KISS Halloween

[Tetsuwan Penguin]

You know, that thread about KISS on stage with Atom.
Well the images reminded me of Halloween (the event DOES run till the end of this month, so I suspect Tezuka productions and Kiss had that in mind).

You DO remember the last time someone posted that artwork from a game with Astro, I turned that into a story (Samurai). Well those two KISS/Astro posters have been cooking in my mind for a while now. SO ....

Watch this space!

[Ms freeman]

This is amazing

[jeffbert]

[Tetsuwan Penguin]

Gene Simmons held up his auction card, he and the auctioneer made eye contact. The Auctioneer pointed at Gene and repeated the bid for 150,000 Euros. His palms were getting sweaty as he looked around the room. Perhaps he'd luck out. The nearly 200 year old piano sat on the stage under the bright lights, the current object up for sale. Simmons had heard the rumors about this instrument, and had been astonished that the expected price at auction might be well under a million dollars. Right now the current bit was less than a fifth of that. Had no one else done their research, or had they all done it better than he had?

The heavy metal rocker had been visiting in Paris when he'd gotten wind of the pending estate sale, which mostly consisted of a collection of 18th and 19th century instruments, including several pianos. The one that he was now bidding on was rumored to have once been owned by Frederic Chopin, though that linage hadn't been certified officially.

The Auctioneer pounded his gavel for the last time, and then identified Gene Simmons as the winner. Simmons waited for a lull in the action as his prize was wheeled off the stage, and the next item up for bids was moved into the spotlight. He got up and made his way our of the auditorium, having no interest in any of the other items on the docket. He made his way to the office to sign the required papers and arrange for the transport of the instrument back to the states.

On the way into the office, a man wearing a dark trench coat, with a large brow that sat on top of his thick framed dark glasses, bumped into him. Gene stared at the man, noticing the prominent flat spot on the rear of his skull, perhaps a birth deformity.
“So you're the one who bought that haunted instrument,” the sinister character laughed.

“Haunted?”, Gene questioned.

“You'll find out soon enough,” the man replied, pulling a business card from his pocket which he pushed into Gene's hand. “I'll buy it from your for 5 percent more than you paid for it,” he offered.

Simmons looked at the card, 'Acetylene Lampe, Antiques' it read, giving a Tokyo address.

“I'm not interested, Mr Lampe,” he replied.

“That's OK,” Lampe answered, removing his glasses and holding them in his left hand. “But please keep my card, just in case you change your mind, my offer stands.” The man replaced his glasses, turned about and walked off.

Gene shrugged his shoulders and pocketed the business card. Entering the auction office, he noticed that several stacks of forms were sitting on a table in the middle of the room. Simmons started to fill out the shipping form, pausing when he came to the delivery address. He pulled a folded paper from his wallet, and noticed the address where the bands equipment would be delivered to for their upcoming Halloween gig. “Might as well have the piano shipped to our concert destination, and save myself the extra expensive,” he thought, “Provided I can find a good piano technician in Japan. That old instrument will be perfect for this venue.” He handed the form, along with check made out to the auction house, to the clerk behind the window. The official quickly processed the paperwork, and handed Simmons several receipts. “Thank you Monsieur Simmons,” he spoke. “Your piano will be carefully packed and delivered to the address you requested by your required date.”

Just outside the office, Acetylene cackled a laugh, as he spoke into a cell phone. “Well Hamegg, it looks like our little plan is right on track!”

[Tetsuwan Penguin]

Uran carefully removed the vinyl disk from its protective dust jacket and placed it on the turntable. She knew that Cobalt would be busy all afternoon at the high school doing his research project, so she wasn't afraid of being caught using his vintage stereo equipment. While most kids their age listened to music on cell phones, MP3 players, or on line streaming services, Cobalt was more into the older recordings on CD's, magnetic cassette tape, and even analog vinyl LP's. He had even built himself an antique stereo valve amplifier, and a custom turntable with a magnetic pickup cartridge.

Cobalt had found the schematic for the over fifty year old power amplifier and preamp circuits on line, he'd hunted down the parts on ebay, punched and drilled the aluminum chassis, and wired up the vacuum tube circuit himself. He'd even wound his own output transformers, when he couldn't fine suitable ones of the correct specification. The two KT88 kinkless power tetrodes in each of the amplifiers two channels pumped out nearly 50 watts of power running in the class AB1 Ultra-Linear mode. The Mullard E188CC frame grid triodes in the preamplifier delivered low distortion EIAA equalization and frequency balance processing for the low level signals from the turntable pickup. Cobalt was a hopelessly addicted audiophile.

Uran started the turntable motor and carefully lowered the stylus onto the outer landing zone of the record. The opening vocals of the first track, “I Stole Your Love” came booming out of the two large tower speakers, located in opposite corners of Cobalt's bedroom. She quickly grabbed the gain control of the stereo system's preamplifier to reduce the volume. “So this is what Heavy Metal rock sounds like,” she muttered to herself.

“What are you doing?”, Astro asked from just outside the doorway to his brother's room. “Did Cobalt give you permission to use his stereo equipment?”

“Hai!” Uran blurted out, adding “At least he never told me I COULDN'T use it.”

“Well just keep the volume down to a dull roar,” Atom told her, “Hakase is trying to get over a headache.”

Atom walked away down the hallway, after slowly closing the door to Cobalt's room. Uran held the 40 year old record album's outer jacket up and admired the artwork. “These guys must really put on a show at their concerts,” she laughed, “and their makeup is just perfect for Halloween. I hope I can score some tickets for the show in a couple of weeks from now.” Uran had seen the ad in the latest copy of 'Tiger Beat'. That was the reason that she'd snuck into Cobalt's room and rummaged through his collection of vintage LP's. Having never heard of Kiss, (well they WERE a bit before her time), she wanted to find out if they were worth begging Hakase to get tickets for the show. As the closing bars of “Shock Me” rumbled out of Cobalt's 18” woofers, 6” mid-ranges, and 1” dome tweeters, she'd decided that they were.

[Tetsuwan Penguin]

Hamegg was waiting at the gate as Acetylene deboarded the plane. “How was the trip?” he asked.

“Mission accomplished on my end,” Lampe smiled. “Simmons is having that piano shipped here for the concert, I assume you managed to get the arrangements for that nailed down?”

“No problem there, Doc McGhee was a push over,” the former circus owner and thief laughed. “It was also easy to get the services of a few well known anime and manga artists as well. Now all we have to do is to drag the ministry into our trap.”

“What about Dr. Fooler?” Lampe asked. “is he holding up his end of the bargain?”

“I haven't checked on him for awhile,” Hamegg voiced, “but the last time I paid him a visit he was making good progress. I wouldn't worry, Fooler has an axe to grind with Astro, and he wants the cash.”

“That's what I like about this deal,” Acetylene grinned, “we get to collect big on the receipts for this concert, and on the last day we get our revenge on that pain in the butt robot.”



Paul Stanley, Tommy Thayer, and Eric Singer were all waiting when Gene entered the rented studio. “What's up, Gene?”, lead Guitarist Tommy asked.

“I've just heard from Doc, he's finalized the deal with the Japanese media group.”
Simmons held up two color printouts. “Japanese Artist Nampei Kaneko whipped these two up on his computer using our Love Gun and Destroyer Album covers as a starting point. Seems the Japanese want us to perform on stage, the last performance will be on Halloween.”

“That's Perfect!,” laughed percussionist, Singer. “Of course that means performing in makeup again.”

“Well, for a few of the numbers, anyway,” Gene agreed.

“Good thing you speak the language,” Paul smiled. “By the way, I heard you managed to score that piano you were talking about.”

“Strange thing about that,” Gene replied. “Some Japanese antique dealer bumped into me in Paris and tried to talk me into selling it to him before I even took delivery of it. I wonder if he knew I was planning on bringing it along with us for this show?”

[Tetsuwan Penguin]

Pluto wasn't the brightest robot in the world. One could say that he sometimes had a one track mind. His original purpose had been to destroy the most famous robots in the world, with the aim of crowning himself as the world's strongest. Of his six targets, only Astro had escaped Pluto's wrath. But robot's can be repaired or rebuilt, and eventually Pluto's rampage had been forgotten. Even the giant blue horned beast had been brought back from the dead after his final battle with BoraBora. Pluto now worked for the Ministry of science, handling the kind of tasks that could only be performed by a robot of his size and brute strength. Pluto's evil streak had been removed from his programming, but he his IQ was still little above that of a human child's. A sense of right and wrong had been installed into his AI, but he was still naïve and easily mislead. Which might explain why the slimy weasel had been able to convince the blue giant to meet up with him.

Hamegg was a little taken back by the size of the blue robot, but he wasn't exactly afraid of him, after all, he'd once owned a robot circus and never let any of their kind get the better of him. He palmed the object in his pocket that that Fooler had given him, and then hid it behind his back.

“Hello Pluto,” Hamegg said in the most pleasant voice he could muster.

“What can I do for you?” Pluto asked.

“Actually, it's what I can do for you?” Hamegg replied. “I'm going to make you a star!”

“I'm not interested in the circus,” Pluto scowled back, “Astro told me all about your past.”

“That's ancient history,” Hamegg answered, holding up a poster. “I'm offering you the opportunity to appear on stage with the famous rock group, KISS. Your mighty appearance is perfect for the setting of their Halloween performance.”

Pluto bent down and gently plucked the poster from Hamegg's fist, and held it up for a closer examination. “I like their makeup and costumes,” he laughed, “but I'm no musician.”

“This gig doesn't require any artistic talent on your part,” Hamegg explained, “you just have to stand on stage, and maybe pick up a few props. Your mighty physique will lend the perfect ambiance to the stage setting.”

“I don't know,” Pluto came back, “It sounds a bit demeaning in a way.”

“Well you won't be the only robotic performer on the stage,” Hamegg grinned, getting to the punch line. “That is if you can convince Astro and Uran to be there too. What I have in mind is a bit of a re-enactment of your greatest moments, set to the music of Heavy Metal Rock-n-Roll.”

“I don't fight other robots anymore,” Pluto boomed back in anger.

“Not for real,” Hamegg quickly blurted out. “You do know how to act, don't you?”

“You mean like pretend?” Pluto asked.

“Yes! Exactly!”

“Well, that I can do!” Pluto laughed. “Sure, I'll do that.”

“Can we shake on the deal then?” Hamegg asked nervously, extending the hand he'd been hiding behind his back, the palm still closed.

Pluto extended his own huge hand, which Hamegg quickly slapped with his own gloved one. The thin membrane of the object he'd been hiding broke open, spilling out the liquid that it contained. Several thousand nanites, that had been suspended in the fluid found their way into Pluto's body via tiny pores in his metallic skin. They quickly dispersed in groups, seeking out his control interfaces to hack into his AI. Pluto's eyes briefly glowed red, then went back to normal. Hamegg smiled as he noticed the effect. “Excellent!”, he thought to himself. Dr. Fooler has got the first part of his task right.

[Tetsuwan Penguin]

Uran had been waiting for the right moment to beg Hakase to get her the KISS concert tickets. She finally found the Professor distracted by the mail, and decided that now was the time, but before she could speak up, Ochanomizu approached her with an envelope in his hand. “Looks like a fat letter for you, Uran!”, he smiled. “From your friend Pluto.”

Uran had befriended the giant robot when he had been on his rampage fighting the worlds most powerful robots in his pointless quest to crown himself with the honor of being the champion in that category. After Pluto had been rebuilt, following his battle with BoraBora, Uran had been the first friend that he found by his side. Pluto now worked for the Ministry, and he would stop by to see Uran often, usually with a bouquet of flowers.
Uran momentarily forgot about the KISS tickets when the envelope was placed into her hands. She quickly tore it open, and her face lit up when she saw the contents. “OMG!” she cried out.

“What's the matter?” Professor Ochanomizu asked.

“I was just about to beg you to get me tickets for the KISS concert, but look what Pluto sent me!” she exclaimed.

Uran held up the contents of the over stuffed envelope. Wrapped inside of a type written letter were 5 tickets to the Halloween eve KISS concert. Uran pushed the letter towards the Professor who quickly read it.

“Hello Uran,” it began. “I've been asked by the stage manager for the KISS concert to appear with the band during the show. I think they want me as part of the 'background', 'cause I'm so big and powerful looking. They also want you, Astro, and the Professor to make an appearance, along with Mr. Mustachio. I've been told to send you guys tickets to the performance. I hope you can all make it. Your best friend, Pluto.”

“Well!”, the professor laughed. “I guess we can't refuse that invite.”

Uran giggled back, “You bet! But poor Koby! There is a ticket for him, but Pluto didn't say that they wanted HIM to appear on stage.”

“You're right,” Ochanomizu agreed. “Well, I don't need to make a fool of myself in front of a bunch of younger Heavy Metal Rockers. I'll just sit in the audience with Kobaruto then. You and Astro have fun. Also if I know Mr. Mustachio, he'll probably do the same.”

“I don't think so,” Uran laughed. “He's such a ham!”

“You just might be right about that,” the Professor chuckled.




Dr. Fooler carefully mixed the contents of several test tubes into a large beaker. He stirred the liquid with a glass rod, and carefully noted the color of the fluid. “Almost right, I think,” he muttered.

“We'll need to test it,” Acetylene Lampe insisted.

Fooler ignored Lampe's remark. “The drug is absorbed into the skin and quickly enters the blood stream. It is only consumed by the specific cells of the cerebral cortex that control voluntary will, rendering the victim subject to suggestion. I've added some of my special nanites into the mix, they will act as tiny radio receivers, and once they attach themselves to the optic and auditory nerves we have the ability to issue such suggestions from a distance.”

“How long does it last?” Hamegg asked.

“That depends on the dosage of the drug,” Fooler replied, “The stuff is quickly broken down by the bodies' immune system, so we have to keep replenishing it. The nanites built in power packs will last for a few hours, long enough for the length of the performance.”

Fooler then picked up the jar of white makeup that he'd left on the table and unscrewed the lid from the container. He then slowly poured some of the beaker's contents into the jar, stirring the mixture constantly.

“That should do it,” he said. “We'll substitute this tainted jar of clown white for the one in the performers' dressing room. With a liberal amount of it applied to their faces, there will be high enough dosage of the drug to last as long as the nanites do.”

“Excellent,” Lampe said, “But I still want to test it.”

Fooler stuck the gloved finger of his right hand into the jar and wiped it on Hamegg's face.

“Not on ME!” the weasel like thief yelled, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe the clown white from his cheek.

“The stuff is absorbed instantly,” the diminutive scientist told him, “The active ingredients and my nanites move though the blood quickly.” He removed a small pen like device from his pocket and spoke into it.

“Slap yourself!” he ordered.

Hamegg's face started to sweat. “No I won't” he said. “I'll slap you!”

Hamegg raised his right hand and lunged forward towards Fooler. He swung at him, but his open palm landed on his own face.

“Give yourself thirty lashes!”, Fooler ordered.

Hamegg, proceeded to slap his own face until the skin had turned quite red.

“Satisfied?” Fooler asked.

“Quite.” Lampe smiled.

[Tetsuwan Penguin]

Gene Simmons watched as the workmen carefully disassembled the crate in which the antique instrument had been shipped halfway around the world. The large grand piano appeared to have survived its trip without a scratch. Once unpacked, the piano technician that had been waiting in the wings off stage walked over. The old man ran his fingers gently over the instrument, admiring the finish on the wood, and the sculpture of the wood work.

“Do you know what you have here?”, he asked Gene in Japanese.

Simmons was fluent in the language, and he answered the question in the same tongue in which it had been asked. “Supposedly, the keys of this instrument were once tickled by the very hands of Fredric Chopin,” he replied. “I was even told that it was now haunted by his spirit, though I don't believe in ghosts.”

“Who knows?” the artisan replied, lifting the lid of the piano to expose the access to the adjustments to the strings. “Would you strike middle C?” he asked, holding the handle of the wrench in his right hand, while standing on a low ladder to reach inside the box.
Simmons sat on the bench and lifted the cover over the keys. He placed his hands on the keyboard and gently played the note. The technician frowned, and tightened several of the pegs on the metal framework. “Again,” he asked.

This went on for the better part of an hour and a half as the piano tuner adjusted the tension on each of the sets of strings, for all of the instruments 88 keys. Simmons was curious that the man didn't once use a tuning fork, but went by his own sense of pitch.

“Now, let's see about the action,” he replied. “I've already noted that many of the hammers and dampers need replacement or adjustment.”

Gene got relinquished the bench seat to the technician, who adjusted it to suit his own stature. He took his position in front of the instrument and started by running up and down the scale. Periodically he got up to lean into the instrument to access the hammer adjustments. Every now and then he rummaged though his large box of parts. Soon he'd replaced quite a few hammer heads, and damper pads. Less often, he found a complete arm assembly that needed replacement.

The man then flexed his fingers, seeming to do some isometric exercises to limber up his digits before a performance. He again placed his hands on the keyboard, but this time with the aura of a well trained pianist, rather than that of a piano mechanic. Gene watched as the man slowly began to play. The music started slow and quiet, but gradually built up in volume and speed. He recognized the piece at once, Rachmaninoff's Prelude Number 2 in C# Minor.

When the elder Japanese man finished playing the short work, Gene quietly applauded. “I could almost picture Rachmaninoff himself at the piano,” Simmons remarked, “I've seen some films of him playing that very piece.”

“Arigatōgozaimashita,” the technician replied. “As a small boy of 12, I had the opportunity to briefly study under Rachmaninoff himself just before the great man died.”

“So what do you think?”, Gene asked.

“It is a fine instrument,” the man replied with a twinkle in his brown eyes. “And it certainly is haunted by the spirit of Chopin, I could feel him looking over my shoulder as I played. I think Fredric would have liked Rachmaninoff, he approved of my playing.”

[Tetsuwan Penguin]

Dr. Fooler stood as far from Pluto as he could. Standing barely 125 cm tall (just about Astro's height really), he was really dwarfed by the giant blue robot. “You sure you followed my instructions?” he asked.

“To the letter,” Hamegg replied.

“Well in that case,” the scientist replied, as he walked slowly towards Pluto., “please open your chest access panel,” he asked meekly.

Pluto sat down and opened the plate on his chest. Fooler looked inside, and then removed a small device from his pocket, and carefully connected it to the robot's circuitry.

“What's that for Doc?” Lampe asked.

“That will allow big blue here to communicate with the nanites inside of the drugged makeup,” Fooler explained, “Pluto will be able to control the rock band, as we will be able to control Pluto.”

“I get it!,” Hamegg laughed. “Looks like tonights performance is going to be a bit spookier than usual.”



Simmons and the other members of the band entered the empty hall, and walked onto the stage. They looked around, inspecting the props that had been installed for the night's concert. Two large columns resembling the stonework that might be found inside of an ancient temple stood on either side of the large stage. Standing at the back of the platform was a large blue robot with demonic looking horns on his head.

“Is that guy real, or just a prop?” Stanley asked.

“I was told that he's quite real and will be part of the performance,” Gene answered. “He's probably powered down at the moment, though I don't know why he was brought in so early.”

At that moment, the door at the far back of the auditorium opened, and three people entered. A small girl was dragging an older balding man with a large nose by the hand, and a boy child followed behind them.

“Hi Pluto!” the girl yelled toward the stage.

Pluto opened his eyes, but made no other movement.

Uran let go of her guardian's hand and broke into a run toward the stage. She bounded up the stairs, and walked towards the giant blue robot. “Wake up Pluto!” she yelled up.

“Sorry, Uran!” Pluto voiced. “I was saving my energy for tonight. I was told to get here early and take my place on stage.”

Astro and the professor now climbed the stairs from the first row level up to the stage.
“You must be Astro, and Uran,” Gene said. “We were told that you and Pluto were to be part of our show tonight, but I wasn't given any details. Just that we'd be performing our music while Pluto acted out something with you.”

“Nobody told me anything,” Uran said. “Pluto sent me the tickets and a letter.”

“You know anything about this?” Ochanomizu asked the big robot.

“A guy who said he was the band's stage manager asked me to be in tonight's show,” Pluto answered. “He gave me a few tickets to send to Uran and to ask her and Astro to perform with me.”

“What kind of performance?” Astro asked.

“We're supposed to pretend to fight, like we did a few years ago,” Pluto replied, “when I wasn't right in the head.”

Meanwhile, Uran had wandered off toward the other side of the stage. “I didn't know that there was Piano in heavy metal rock,” she said.

“That's an antique Piano I found in Paris,” Simmons told her. “It's a prop for the show, I wasn't really going to play it in any of our numbers, but I had an idea of making use of in a skit for Halloween. This instrument is alleged to be haunted by the ghost of Chopin.”

“Can I play it?” Uran asked.

“Please don't,” the professor told her, “That looks like a rare and valuable instrument, you might break it.”

“Please, I'll be careful!” Uran begged.

“Do you know how to play piano?” Simmons asked.

“Sort of,” Uran answered. “I can read music, and I have good motor control.” She held her hands up and wiggled her fingers. “See?”

“OK, let's see what you can do,” Gene laughed.

Uran pushed the bench seat closer to the keyboard before hopping on board. She frowned to discover that her feet didn't quite reach the peddles, but she had no difficulty accessing the keyboard.

“Gee, what should I play?” she wondered.

As soon as her fingers lit on the ivory, something strange happened. Uran's face seemed to turn a gray color, and she had a far away look in her eyes. Like a zombie her hands started to move slowly across the keys, and very somber melody wafted across the auditorium. It was as if the ghost of Chopin had taken control of the girl robot, the third movement of his second piano sonata was now filling the stage.
She reached the middle of the movement and the key changed from Bb minor to Db major. This calm interlude soon ended as the melody went back to the somber minor key.

Uran stopped playing and lifted her hands from the keyboard. The grayness was gone from her complexion, and the usual sparkle back in her eyes.

“Did I just play something?” she asked.

“You don't know what you just played?”, Astro asked. “You looked like ghost had taken over your body, and you were playing a dirge!”

“I was?” Uran asked.

“Did you say that piano was haunted by the ghost of Chopin?”, Ochanomizu asked.

“That's what I was told,” Simmons answered.

“As far as I know Uran has never heard any music by Chopin,” the professor said, “Yet she just gave a flawless rendition of his funeral march on that piano. Almost as if Chopin himself had taken control of her.”

“Would you mind playing that again during the show?”, Gene asked. “That would be perfect for Halloween.”

“I don't know.” Uran stammered. “That felt too creepy!”