Other Fan Fiction ❯ KISS Next Generation ❯ True Believers ( Chapter 16 )

True Believers
Latest Chapter in KISS Next Generation Saga
By StarbearerTM
Disclaimer: I don't own KISS, they are real persons. This is a work of Fiction, and is
written for entertainment of KISS fans everywhere. It means no harm to KISS or its members. Other characters are my inventions or from ideas suggested by KISS Girltalk members. This is dedicated to all you gals and guys on the list. Thanks to Shandi and Christine for some good ideas.

She lay on her side, grumbling because Ace had shooed her away. Apparently he was
devoted to programming Jendel about the task of finding the 'survivors' since Paul had last
contacted them. The number of mutants had risen in the last week, making it treacherous to risk
sending someone to get him. Going on foot would be extremely hazardous, even with their talisman powers; they could be overwhelmed by sheer force of numbers, even when taking ground transportation.

To realistically bypass this problem, flying was the best option. Gene had the idea of taking his
talisman to Paul so he could recharge, and Paul had confirmed that Bruce and Eric were indeed in the shelter with close to 100 KISS fans. However it grew far riskier for Gene or anyone to venture out, due to the sudden spikes of radiation Ace said was coming through the smoky cloud cover. Although it screened out most of the UV rays, there were other charged particles that seemed to be seeping through a sort of intensified gamma radiation from a comet he'd seen go past. Raina and he were at work trying to chart its position, and determine the frequencies of the fallout, made worse by the sunbursts. If they hadn't had the dark cloud covering the earth, their situation would have been far worse.

The ruined hotel was their home, and with Paul's help and directions from Ace they had made it an impregnable shelter. A cache of guns had been found, and ammunition. Daily a team of five or more would venture out in the daytime when the mutants were not likely to hunt in the gray day. As night approached, it would be far more risky.

"Big deal," Shandi muttered. Ace had made himself inaccessible, and although Jennie, Mona and Tyler made themselves available to baby-sit Kiara for her, she felt neglected. Paul had been gone three days, and the sun activity would not drop back for Gene to safely fly out till tomorrow. Then and only then would Gene go to take the Star Talisman to Paul to bring him back. And perhaps find a way to bring at least one or two representatives of the KISS bunker with him to explain their needs to Ace.

"He forgot me," she whispered, fighting bitter tears as she hugged her knees. She did not hear the door swing open in the darkness of the night, soft footfalls not discernable on cat paws. Green eyes saw her outline under the sheets, her scent wafting to Peter's nostrils. Sensitive whiskers felt the vibrations of sadness radiating from her body, and he knew it was time for him to take a hand.

Green energies crackled silently around his form, and he collapsed like a deflating balloon. In his place a small black and white tuxedo cat padded to the bed, and reared to leap. Smoothly Peter landed on the edge of the bed and tiptoed over with only the slightest vibrations under his paws. Reaching her outstretched hand, he bumped it with his muzzle, giving a few licks with his sandpapery tongue.

"Brrt?" he mewed, rubbing his cheeks against her hand. In his throat rumbled the motor of pleasure, filling the silence with its rich earthly rumbling. The gaunt silence was filled by the purr of the small cat, but it seemed to come from all around Shandi. She weakly scratched him under the chin as Peter continued to rub under her hand and bump it up to pet him.

"Peter?" she whispered.

"Mrrow?" he answered, walking out from under her hand as he stuck his tail straight up. As cats mostly do, he turned till his backside momentarily faced her, and then turned around. Green eyes glowed in reflected light like twin searchlights. Moving up, he rubbed his cheek to hers, wiping away her angry tears with his soft fur.

"Petey," she whispered as he licked her lips with his sandpaper tongue, and marked her with his
tentative licks. "Stop teasing me..."

"Mrrroooww..." he purred, arching his back as she stroked her fingers along it. Shandi sat up in bed, and Peter curled up in her lap, turning around a few times as he settled in. The vibrations of his purring rumbled just over her nether regions, oddly erotic and awakening her desire. The rumbling crescendoed as she scratched his chin, ears and he turned over on his back to expose his belly. She scratched it, cooing too him as he continued to bask in her petting.

"C'mon don't be a douchebag," she urged. "I want more..."

"Brrrt," he answered, rolling over and licking his paws as cats often did.

"Damn pussy tease," she laughed. Suddenly there was a crackle of light and only his head and shoulders lay in her lap, Shandi stroking his soft furry mane. Peter lifted his head and peered up at her, cupping her chin with his paw.

"I couldn't let that go by, little girl," he laughed. "Man, you sure talk a mean streak to a guy who just wants to make you feel better..."

"You know what I want, don't you? Can you smell it on me?" she teased.

"Mmm," Peter laughed as he rolled her over and pressed her down on the bed. His claws traced down her back, and then dug into her nightgown, shredding it. Shandi laughed as she felt it ripped off, and his tongue raking its sandpapery texture down her bare back. He pinned her down with one hand on her neck, and lifted her hips.

"Dammit Peter, you're not playing fair," she laughed.

"I like playing with my prey before the kill," he laughed with a low purring in his throat.

"Finish what you started..." she purred, her eyes filled with passion.

Jungle heat built up to fever pitch as he came to his maximum, and she did too. Clammy and wet with her sweat, Peter curled up with her, and she lay on her side, purring
along with him.

"My sex kitten," Peter purred.

"Stay with me," Shandi whispered. She felt a nip on the back of her neck as Peter's arms wrapped around her. When she stopped shaking, she lay there till she fell asleep. Peter purred softly, lulling her and himself to sleep. Forget Ace. He had her to himself now.

"Here's the ethanol you wanted," said Cinnamon as she lugged in a bottle and put it on the kitchen counter. Several flasks bubbled with what seemed like a witch's brew as the white-coated woman moved along with them.

"Thanks, Hon," Tamara muttered gratefully as she poured the ethanol into a separation flask, and swished the mixture around inside. Momentarily she vented the vapors.

"It blows me away Hon, how you can make the drugs we need… from simple things," Cinnamon mumbled as she watched Tamara extract a milky white liquid. Putting the cone shaped flask over a ring, she emptied the bottom fraction into a beaker, and swirled it. She took the beaker and poured it into a small round flask with a neck. Then she attached it to a vacuum pump/heater contraption, which had several other flasks. By applying rotation, vacuum, and other principles she ended up with a purified white powder.

"But at least you all can still find drugs. We have to be able to make medications for all of us… when the drugs run out and expire…" Tamara muttered. She held a bit of the white powder in a flame of a Bunsen burner, and recorded the temperature at which it melted. A sure way of identifying a chemical's identity as she looked up the melting temperature in the book.

The contents of UCLA's Chemistry lab had been slowly moved here, to give Tamara a makeshift lab in one of the hotel kitchens. She was one of the KISS Army who knew science, and she was teaching her friend Cinnamon about chemistry in turn, in the hopes her friend could take over and help her out. Already Cinnamon had learned much to help Tamara, and learned the ways to make many of the painkillers, and antibiotics that people would need when the drugs in the pharmacies either expired or ran out.

"How's it going?" asked a tall thin man, with curly brown hair, a goatee, and dark eyes.

"Um, it's going pretty ok, Bruce," said Cinnamon, as she grabbed a flask off a Bunsen burner that she'd been cooking up some of Tamara's stock of Phenobarbital. One of the people had epilepsy, and Tamara and Cinnamon had worked hard to make the drug to stop convulsions for her.

"The last party just got back with more supplies…" Bruce Kulick said as he walked over and looked at the lab from Frankenstein. Large electric boxes were hooked up to hydrogen tanks, and Tamara injected a syringe of another chemical into the box. The box was an oven, which had a long metal tube packed with a special powder that separated chemicals by boiling point. If you knew the boiling point, you could tell what chemical you had. Gas Chromatography.

"Thanks," Tamara said as she glanced up. "But I do wish you'd let ME and Cinnamon… go out…"

"WE can't afford to lose you," he said softly, but sternly. "You're only two of a few who know how to make the medicines, and other things we need."

"That's why I'm teaching Cinnamon, and she or I can teach others," said Tamara slowly. Because she had worked as a chemist in industry, and then as a high school chemistry teacher, she could be called upon for the so-called 'next generation.' Cinnamon, since she had her college degree, and was a quick study in science and other skills was rapidly learning Tamara's chemistry and other things. Luckily there were two dentists among the KISS army collective, and at least one doctor. They had what they needed.

"True, but I hate being cooped up here, I'm getting a bit freaked," Cinnamon muttered. "God I want to see open air for a change."

"Those mutants are only gonna get worse," Bruce said as he wandered out into the main 'lobby' where several people were gathered to play games to pass the time, or read to the children. A banging and clanging came from outside and they heard the crackle of static over a CB radio that one of the members, a trucker had adapted for communication usage. Tamara's equipment and the lights were hooked up to a large diesel generator in the basement that a few of the men who were mechanical and automotive experts had rigged up.

"What's going on?" Tamara asked.

"I'm gonna find out," Cinnamon muttered as she moved out of the 'lab' where Tamara rushed to grab another bubbling flask off its flame.

"Crap," Tamara muttered, glancing at the lab that was her 'station'. It sucked sometimes that so many depended on her. At least she wasn't a leader. Bruce Kulick and Eric Singer were the 'leaders' since people knew and respected them, and they had the necessary charisma. However, the 100 or so KISS Army soldiers who had been trapped at the hotel at the time the comet had hit had elected them.

From being huddled in the basement bomb shelter they had emerged into the twilight world, Tamara remembered. She and Cinnamon had shared a room for the KISS expo in LA, and were trapped with the others. Luckily the number of men and women made it a small nucleus of like-minded people. Angel and her daughter glanced up, and the door was drawn back. Cinnamon burst into the hotel lobby and sitting area, where Shea was teaching karate to a few of the youngsters, and Leanne was slowly drooling over the pictures of Paul. Eric gave the word to swing the door open, and slide the bolts free from the master door that the mechanics and the one man who was an iron worker had set up over the glass lobby doors.

Five men stumbled in, shouldering their semi automatics and shotguns. At the hip of each hung a smaller weapon, opposite hunting knives. Many of the men had come from places where they had learned to hunt, so it was little trouble for them to hunt down the escaped zoo animals for food. Among them was the tall man with dark curly hair who called himself Paul, and looked exactly like Paul Stanley in his early thirties late twenties. They had accepted him as one of them, but Bruce and Eric were NOT convinced he WAS Paul Stanley. He had been close to Angel, till they had found her husband the other day, in another bomb shelter nearby where several fans had hidden in someone's basement. Now he hugged his wife, and rushed up to help the party relieve themselves of their burden of food, and the game they had hunted. Eric slid shut the door and the wives/girlfriends rushed over to collect the food that had been gathered from the stores along with garments, and blankets. Cinnamon rushed over to one of the men, who had fancied her, named Ruby.

"It's getting damn worse," said he, as he hugged her a bit possessively. Another girl, a blonde named Sandy also came to him, and he embraced her as well. There were more women than men, and many of the people had started to pair off if they were not already married or in relationships.

"Good, we got some more Band-Aids," said Eric as he looked over the first aid kit. "Give 'em to Sam… our Doctor."

"If you'd only let Gene or one of the guys come here," Paul said as he set down his rifle, and unzipped the leather jacket over his white button up shirt.

"Look, Paul… they haven't busted their asses to come here, so why should we welcome them with open arms, even if they ARE really here…" said Bruce as he drew Paul out of the line of main conversation. Interested, Cinnamon broke away from Ruby and wandered over to overhear the conversation. Tamara and she had figured he was most likely Paul Stanley or else some close duplicate despite the youth factors.

"But we have the power to help you. Gene said that he couldn't come till today, when Ace said the solar flares will have died down," Paul insisted.

"Look I can get that they might have survived the plane crash, but you as Paul Stanley looking not a day over the age I met you?" Eric said as he moved over to join them. "Get real."

"The talisman…" began Paul.

"Sure that may be, but I don't want to give these people false hopes. Anyway, what's GENE going to do?"

"You can't seriously believe that…" Eric got out before Bruce's cautionary look told him to keep his voice down. They moved over into what had been the hotel bar, and closed the glass doors. Cinnamon put her ear to the glass door and listened to them, her interest kept up.

"I can't believe you've not told anyone here that Gene, myself, Ace and me are just a half hour away," Paul hissed. "We can help you."

"We're doing quite well without their help," Bruce said annoyedly.

"If you'd just consider letting Gene or one of the others come, and give help fighting off these mutants, and determining WHY they're so…" Paul said, folding his arms across his chest.
"He has a point. If Gene and the others do have the Talismans," Eric said, fingering his chin. "Maybe they'd be better off here… or we could move some people there… but if they're at Gene's house… he doesn't have enough room."

"Ace has told me over the radio he's considered building some of the local mansions into adjoining units with his 'bots' and Jendell," said Paul, rubbing a hand through his dark hair. "We could start moving people from…"

"Nothing doing," Bruce said quietly, but firmly. "I am not putting these people at risk. Even with the cars we have to plough through those herds, we don't have enough gasoline to keep them going. We've already siphoned the local gas stations dry."

"You could try the local refinery," Cinnamon said as she slipped in.

"Cinnamon, didn't see you there," Eric singer said. "We were just…"

Tamara glanced in over Cinnamon's shoulder, and said, "If this is a meeting that involves chemistry or science in some form at least let us listen in on it."

"This is mans…" Eric got out.

"Say that and see if you can survive," Cinnamon wagged a warning finger at him.

"There may be a way to make our own gasoline," Tamara said. "If we can get some zeolite clay, a big boiler still like moonshine still, some coal and a…"

"Here?" laughed Eric. "Tammi, I love ya to death but you're…"

"We could build a catalytic cracker," said Tamara. "Take the parts from that refinery that's up the coast and bring some here. I read a book on how refineries make gasoline from crude. And there must be crude oil in some of the larger tanks there."

"Even if we could go there," said Bruce. "It would take a lot of manpower and vehicles… and the mutants are coming out of every rat hole."

"Gene and Ace and I could help you," Paul said.

"Look, hasn't this gone on long enough?" asked Bruce angrily. "Look, how can you prove you're Paul anyway? No powers… looking so young… it's driving me nuts."

"He could be Paul," said Tamara as she moved over and stood by Paul Stanley. "I mean after all he does look and sound very much like him. And if these talisman do exist, maybe they have a way of slowing or reversing age."

"The talisman couldn't do that," said Eric Singer. "Maybe slow down age, but not reverse it."

"Hocus pocus," Bruce said slowly. "Look I'll buy they exist and give KISS certain powers… I mean yes… but you can't be Paul Stanley."

"How do you know?" Cinnamon asked suddenly. "And I mean, we can't stay HERE the rest of our lives like some damn rats. We have to get the hell out or we'll go NUTS!"

"Won't you at least listen to him, even if you don't believe he's Paul?" Tamara asked. A flicker of purple power still crackled in Paul's right hand. He could still sense snatches of emotions, even without his talisman, so long he'd been exposed to the Star power. Anger of Eric and Bruce, and the fear of the others were difficult for him to block out. Yet the genuine belief of Tamara and Cinnamon heartened him. True believers out of those who had been jaded by fear and the will to survive.

"Okay, okay, but we AREN'T moving from this spot. Gene will have to deal," said Bruce. "He can pay a visit, but he's not going to take over… got it? You get on your collar radio and tell him that… are we agreed, Eric?"

"100 percent," said Eric. "And he has to bring some of his futuristic stuff Ace cooked up… and help us HERE. On our terms. We don't want to battle these damn mutants. If they're so hot to have us move, have them bring a laser gun or transporter or whatever."

"Fair enough," Paul nodded, jaw clenching in anger. Eric and Bruce nodded, and motioned for Cinnamon and Tamara to follow.

"Why?" asked Tamara suspiciously.

"You've got a potion to cook up, and Cinnamon, we need your help with some of the other gals who are suffering from burns."

"I'm not a nurse," Cinnamon mumbled as Eric moved over and lay a hand on her shoulder.

"Please Hon?" he asked her. "I mean, one of us would be VERY grateful."

"Just as long as you don't hold me back when GENE comes," she relented, pushing his hand off her arm and walking out.

"You stay here and talk in private. I'll see you're not disturbed," Eric said as Bruce wandered out. Through the glass doors Paul could see him walk into the arms of Lori, who hugged him tightly, and he took her hand to lead her up the flight of stairs. The flash of lust and desire that flooded him told him what Bruce would be doing with his girlfriend for the next hour or so. Eric wandered out and glanced at Tamara.

"Coming?"

"I'm not a dog, thank you. I want to talk to Paul alone," she huffed,rolling her eyes.

"Whatever. But don't let him get your hopes up. Even if they CAN get Gene through, we don't have to go anywhere we don't want to. We're safe here."

"Yes Eric…" Tamara said as she turned to Paul, who sat on a worn barstool and glanced at Tamara with a question in his eyes.

"Interesting," he said. "You believe. Why?"

"It's logical,' Tamara said as she sat opposite him.

"And you're not just interested in a pretty face and my stunning voice?" Paul winked as he reached for the collar at his throat.

"That choker radio. Your voice, and well… you DO have the tattoo," Tamara said slowly. "I've watched enough videos of you throughout the years to know Paul when I see him."

"C'mere," Paul said as he waved one finger to the dark haired girl. She pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose and took the stool opposite him. She thrust her hands in the pockets of her white lab coat because she wasn't sure of what to do with her fingers that shook in mixed desire and anticipation.

"And secondly, I have to believe.. in something," Tamara said as she moved closer, and touched his arm with the gesture she often used to connect with friends. A platonic pat on the shoulder or arm was her style. Paul glanced at the eyes as dark as his own behind the thick glasses, and caught a glimpse of the KISS T-shirt, studded belt and jeans underneath. Although the lab coat hid her figure, he could tell from the contours of the lab coat buttoned over her hips and chest that she had nice curves. Curves that many a man would like to run over a bit more.

"You have a tattoo also, they say," Paul said with a wink.

"Want me to show you?" she blurted out, and then flushed. Paul reached out and traced his finger down her neck, her skin trembling at his touch. A burst of desire surfaced from the control of the scientist, and he glimpsed a deep-seated passion that floored him. It quickly vanished under her mental walls. She unlike some others, did put up high walls. Strange. She pulled down the neck of her shirt and he saw his own face peering soulfully back, tattooed in six colors of purple and red and black on her left breast.

"A star girl," he pursed his lips. "Figures."

"Well, most of the other women want to believe. And even if they don't why you should complain, I mean they ARE attracted to you…" she said with a slight tease.

"Why aren't YOU attached to someone?" Paul asked her with a low whisper.

"Good question. I guess nobody's interested?" she shrugged. "And most people have paired off."

"Pretty girl like you shouldn't put herself down," said Paul.

"They want me for my brain," she said. "Or else a cheap tumble. Sex is good, but there are only so many times you can have it before you want something more. I guess I like to um… get to know the person first?"

"And something else?" Paul asked. Tamara's eyes did not quite meet his, but she looked up at his beautiful eyebrows. Taking his hand he cupped her chin.

"And even if you aren't Paul, you're a good man, and you need someone to believe in you. And in these past three days you've fit right in… and given us hope in some form. I mean I believe you're Paul. I have to believe…" Tamara said as she lay her hand on his arm, sliding it down to put her hand over his. Her fingers were small, her nails painted red and slightly long. Her hands were scarred with chemical burns, but still had the sensitivity on their palms.

"Tammi," he got out before his radio crackled. She saw a flash in his dark eyes of purple as his hand tightened on hers.

"Someone…" she asked, reading his face like a book.

"Gene… he's here… and fighting mad," Paul said as he grabbed Tamara's hand.