Tim the Printer Guy awoke to a lovely, sunny day. Birds chirped just outside the window, along with the droning whine of the cicada and the serene sound of the wind rustling the trees. He got up from the bed and rubbed his eyes, adjusting to the light as he looked around the room again. Fred had placed a bottle of pills next to Tim’s new flip phone, which was the type of commodity that he had grown accustomed to these past few days. Since leaving ProSales, Fred Shudnow had taken in the wayward Tim and was nursing him back to the happiness he once felt as a child. Each day was like a dream, finally living a life away from Skeeter and ProSales. There was no more demand to please and force himself into uncomfortable interactions with gremlins, and without working in that environment, Tim had noticed his stress disappear. While the Adonises were no longer in his life, Tim the Printer Guy could focus on himself. He did not need their beauty to inspire him anymore. His mind was clear of those passionate thoughts, and despite missing them dearly, he knew that this newfound happiness replaced the grief he had over losing them.

Fred Shudnow’s house was so modern, so fascinating. The bed in his room was extraordinary. It had given him all the necessary support and totally rejuvenated his spine. There was medication around, of which Fred had plenty to spare, yet it wasn’t necessary anymore. Tim had been noticing a bottle of pills by his bedside every morning, but he did not indulge. It was very kind of the man to bring him some, but there was no need to escape reality when the future was so bright. Fred had given Tim a new phone—a cheap Jitterbug flip phone. It had Fred’s number in it, so that Tim the Printer Guy could contact him wherever he needed to. He still did not have a car anymore, so for the most part he was stuck at Fred’s house, but there was no need to venture out amongst the gremlins. Tim had everything he needed out here in the woods. The days mainly consisted of taking walks outside and helping Fred around the house. Tim had promised him that he would help out with setting up a camera system, but that project had been put on hold while Fred was going out to buy more cameras. He wanted the entirety of his property covered and surveillanced.

In the meantime, Tim the Printer Guy would walk around the house. He still was not a fan of the photographs that Fred had hung up, especially the one at his bedside. The print of a man, seemingly comatose with a spilt bottle of pills, made Tim the Printer Guy shudder each time he looked at it. Every morning he would wake to the sight and be caught in a long unnerving stare, trying to understand why Fred would photograph such a thing.

Tim the Printer Guy was coming to terms with the madness he suffered through in the past. As he moved away from the Adonises and from ProSales, he started to look back on all those visits from the bandaged Cage and concluded that they were delusions brought by anxiety and the medication he was on. Now that he was sober and happy, Bandaged Cage was nowhere to be found. The kawahime was simply a woman whom Mikeal cared for, and Tim the Printer Guy should just respect that and be happy for the young man. For a time, he’d considered her a threat—not that Tim was jealous in a romantic sense, but she might stray him away in life. Mikeal could have drowned in temptation and desire—a victim to beauty—and given up his dreams, or something… But as Tim the Printer Guy recalled from the conversation between Mikeal and Octavian he’d overheard while sitting in that locker, she seemed to be harmless. The kawahime, who went by the name Raquel, encouraged Mikeal to do more outside of PaperClips. Tim the Printer Guy could see that he was being foolish, and was grateful that he did not strike her down when he could have.

Jamir Sambol was the only true casualty. Last Tim heard, he was to be recruited by ProSales to take over as the new printer guy. It was immensely disparaging, as this was the one thing Tim the Printer Guy vowed to keep the Adonises away from. Jamir did not deserve a life of servitude. It took a few days of nature walks and isolation for Tim to accept his failure and find the ability to move on from it. Fred Shudnow’s kindness taught Tim the Printer Guy to not dwell on that—Jamir was going down a dark road anyway. He knew that the rest of the Adonises started to resent Jamir’s superiority, and he seemed to be already infected by the allure of corporate greed. Tim could see that Jamir was vying for his job and talking extensively with Skeeter. Jamir was too far gone to save. With Octavian focusing more time on a different career path—working at the gym—the other’s were starting to drift away from PaperClips, this was for the best.

Despite realizing that the Adonises were unhealthy for Tim the Printer Guy’s rickety mental state, he knew that they deserved more than PaperClips. He felt that it was worth losing one person he cared for, if it meant saving the rest. Tim was also ecstatic that he’d finally stood up to the oni, Adem. Tim could not let that vile, lazy, listless fiend corrupt the minds of the Adonises. Adem reminded Tim the Printer Guy of everything he hated of the corporate world. He was dull and devoid of creativity. Adem did not like Tim or his attempts to mentor the Adonises, as it truly felt that he was distracting them—taking them away from Tim’s tender affections. Was Tim the Printer Guy jealous of him? Of course.

He could slither his way into their conversations and despite being repulsive, they made him feel as though he was their friend. Was this black magic of some sort? Tim also did not possess physical beauty, but he deserved their attention far more than Adem. He was a sensei, a master and an admirer. When he’d jumped on top of Adem and clawed at his face, Tim the Printer Guy had been acting out an urge that, each day, boiled inside his soul. But, again, with Fred, Tim was able to see how futile his efforts were in pursuing them overall. It was crazy to think that those men of superior grace and elegance that inspired Tim to paint would want to stay in a boring, retail job just for him. Attacking Adem was therapeutic, but it also signaled that it was time to move on.

Tim the Printer Guy got out of bed and stretched out. He yawned and prepared for another rousing day. Looking out the window, he saw his buddy, Fred Shudnow, pulling into the driveway, probably with another box of cameras. Tim the Printer Guy was ready to uphold the promise he had made to assist him. He knew that Fred’s house resided near Red Flow Lake, and it bothered Fred to be so close to gremlins. Tim understood their nuisance as those people, gremlins and other such on-lookers, would constantly glare at Tim. If his friend struggled with the invasiveness, or even felt a fraction of the loneliness Tim felt, he would help no matter what.

Tim got dressed, with some of Fred’s clothing: another, billowy, gray shirt with some small shorts that were made for a thinner man, not as bulbous as Tim the Printer Guy. He stuffed himself into the tight waistline and ran out and down the hallway, but stopped in the living room. There was the painting of the geisha and the demon, hanging up on the wall. Fred had rescued it to the dismay of Tim. Judging on his taste in art, Fred seemed to get excited by brutality. Tim was apprehensive of his friend's admiration for twisted subject matter. The models in all his Fred’s photography looked tortured, or drugged. As his friend, Tim the Printer Guy did not want to force his own ideas of what to display in his house, but he also, again, thought that he should at least express his concerns and explain to Fred that he felt uncomfortable about all this.

He left the demon painting and rushed out the door to Fred’s car. He saw his friend getting out and unloading a box from the back.

“Need a hand there?” Tim the Printer Guy asked.

“Oh no, I’m good,” said Fred, picking up the large box, and adjusting his hold.

“What’s in the box?”

“It’s nothing… just some small things I need for the house,” said Fred, walking past Tim.

He shuffled back into the house leaving Tim alone. The box was fairly large, so he was caught wondering what it might be. Moments later, Fred came back out of the house and clapped his hands in an excited gesture.

“Do you want to get to those cameras today?” he asked, rubbing his hands together.

“Of course, friend.”

“Okay, let’s start setting them up. I have a bunch of them and I want to make sure that we cover the whole area.”

“I can take a few and put them out in the back, up in the trees,” Tim offered. “I love climbing trees. My father at one time worked in forestry and taught me some Buri-nawa methods.”

“Okay, I don’t know what that means, but go ahead. I want to get that back area covered good because that's where all those people from the neighborhood over there seem to get in.”

“I’m on it,” Tim the Printer Guy said, hopping to it.

After getting a few cameras from inside, Tim went to the back of the house to survey the entire property. He found the edge of the back yard, which was enveloped by trees. Fred’s property was out in the middle of the forest. It was consumed by thick vegetation, beyond which was Red Flow Lake and the surrounding neighborhood. Tim the Printer Guy knew the area, but the last time he was there, nighttime darkness had consumed his sight, so he did not have much spatial memory of the neighborhood around the lake. His daily nature walks only took him so far, but he assumed that it was fairly close by. Perhaps, he should put the cameras far beyond the edge of the property, just so that Fred could see where the neighborhood begins and watch where the people seemed to come from.

Tim the Printer Guy ventured into the woods. He felt serene and at the will of the breeze. It was quiet, peaceful, and reminded Tim of his childhood walks through the tea garden. Nature inspired him immensely. As he caressed the drooping leaves and branches of the shrubbery, he imagined himself painting. Since being with Fred, he had not painted one bit. The long and short strokes done on the canvas gave a sort of stimulation for Tim. Since creativity was yet to come, the forest vegetation had a way of mirroring the sensation. He would touch each branch and blade of grass, to carefully slip into his zen. He’d made Fred a promise—he was to paint Fred a self portrait, and Tim was overjoyed with the assignment. He thought that maybe it was because of this that no other inspiration would come to mind. Tim the Printer Guy was mentally preparing himself for Fred Shudnow.

He saw a large tree that had a lot of branches and pockets for cameras, so Tim shimmied up. Despite his size, he was quite good at getting up trees. He brought a rope that he would wrap around the base, and then would pull his way to the top. Once he was high up, sitting on one of the branches, Tim the Printer Guy could see the tops of houses and fences. This was the neighborhood. It was now daylit and expansive, formed by many different shapes and sizes of houses. There were winding streets and hills all along the water. Tim was briefly captivated by the urban sprawl, sitting quietly in nature, almost secluded from the rest of civilization.

He then heard a bit of chatter from below, and realized he was on a branch right above someone’s backyard. Tim the Printer Guy eased back towards the trunk, readjusting his position as he continued to look downwards. The yard was eerily familiar, yet Tim could not place it. Then, a startling sight came out the back door. It was Mikeal! This house was where he’d left Shōgun no fukushū, and where he’d almost committed murder. Tim held his breath and tried to keep still, as Mikeal was too close and at the risk of seeing Tim.

“Why did it have to be here—why you?” Tim thought to himself. The pressure coming back into his head.

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He did not ever wish to see the Adonises again. The conquering of Adem was the final chapter to his days at ProSales and PaperClips. There was no need to return to the Adonises, however Tim at one point would’ve literally killed to have this view of Mikeal. It was so nice to see his long, golden locks of hair again.

“Yeah, so this is the place!” Mikeal said to an unseen entity. He was conversing with someone else.

Tim felt discomfort in his stomach, wondering if he was speaking to the woman that was once thought to be a kawahime.

“It’s awesome, you are sure your parents are cool with us using it this weekend?” asked a familiar booming voice.

At that moment Tim knew it to be Octavian. He walked out to join Mikeal, admiring the house and the yard.

“Yeah, they don’t get to come out as much as they want. They are happy that it is getting some use,” said Mikeal.

“Is this where you found the sword?” asked Octavian.

Tim the Printer Guy sat breathless, knowing that an Adonis was still in possession of his family heirloom. The mental anguish developed into a nervous bout of gas, which sent his stomach into a series of gurgles—he was in danger of revealing his position! Tim had to let out a steady, silent release that would hopefully resolve the groans and not cause any more attention. He slowly lifted up his leg and…

Tim the Printer Guy let out an explosive fart.

It rattled the branches and sent birds flying away. The wind from his seat almost ripped the tight shorts in half. Tim was red in embarrassment, but kept still and carefully looked down, wondering if they had spotted him.

“What was that?” asked Octavian.

Mikeal looked around, but did not inch his head upwards—not noticing Tim in the tree and therefore leaving him his dignity. “Maybe a bird or an animal, I don’t know,” he said.

“Do you think something died? It smells like it,” Octavian remarked with a wave of his hand, attempting to bat away Tim the Printer Guy’s stink.

“I smell it too,” Mikeal said before coughing a bit and covering his nose. “I hope it goes away before the girls come up. Racquel is already a little apprehensive about coming back since last time.”

“Yeah that’s a wild story,” said Octavian. “But if someone jumps in your backyard again, Sindy knows Krav Maga.”

“So she can protect us from deranged homeless men in dresses?” Mikeal laughed.

Tim tensed. Who was Sindy? Had another bewitching female taken an Adonis for her own? The thought of it made Tim the Printer Guy worrisome. Yes, there was never a doubt to Tim that Octavian would find a mate. His large muscles and thick beard certainly made him desirable to the opposite sex. Though, what was this Krav Maga? Was this some kind of fighting style not known to Tim?

The two Adonises left the backyard and returned into the house. Tim the Printer Guy felt a wave of relief wash over his body. He started to relax and ponder the event he just witnessed. It was like the fates had brought him to this place. His long purge of the Adonises had brought him some inner peace and clarity, so this was a test by the gods to see if Tim could handle his desires. He reminded himself that he did not need those men anymore—that their beauty took over his mind. They filled a void in his heart, and distracted him from the tyranny of Skeeter. Now he had Fred, his friend.

He shimmied down the tree and headed down the path towards Fred’s house before stopping. Tim the Printer Guy started to think about how he could properly test himself. He saw the camera in his hand. Those Adonises still deserve someone who would look out for them. Fred still wanted cameras by the neighborhood, so that he could watch out for any “would-be” intruders. Tim could put a camera here and still watch out for Mikeal and Octavian. He placed the camera by the fence, the same one he’d once vaulted over.

“It wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on them,” he said while covering the camera with leaves and dirt. “Maybe if I just watch over them and those women that they are seeing, I can rectify my failures. I can make sure that they stay off the path of darkness. Even if those women are not demons or trickster yōkai, they could still be bad matches for the boys. A true sensei should be able to guide his pupils in the ways of love, right?” Tim the Printer Guy thought to himself.

With the camera buried, out of sight, and pointing at the house, Tim returned to Fred’s.

* * *

“Did you put a camera somewhere?” Fred called out from up his ladder, setting a camera into the tree.

“Yeah I hid one, facing the neighborhood.”

“Good, then I can see who might leave and wander into my property. It’s good to always keep an eye on the source of all that!” exclaimed Fred. “It is great having you here. Now I can get more of the housework done too!”

Tim the Printer Guy smiled, feeling that Fred saw his value. “Of course, I’ll do what I can to repay you for saving me from that job.”

Fred still was fiddling with the camera up the tree. It took a few moments to finally get the position right. “Yeah that boss that you had was out of his mind,” Fred said, climbing down the ladder. “How did you ever get involved with a guy like that?”

The sky got dark. A cloud listlessly covered the sun and cast a shadow on the two men. Tim the Printer Guy felt an itch in his pants—more discomfort from the tightness. He tried to adjust himself and take a deep breath.

“He had a way of getting me to do things for him. I felt like I had to repay him for doing something for me and I thought ProSales was going to benefit my future,” he said.

“The guy must have got you good. That apartment was a shithole! My spare room is much better. Now you got sheets and pillows… what made you want to continue living like that?”

Tim just hung his head, and felt the shame and failure again, wondering if he could have done more to get out of ProSales. “I just didn’t know of a way to escape,” he said. “When I was young and going through my troubles in art school, Skeeter was the only one there for me. When I lost my scholarship, he told me that he could put on an art show for me and sell some of my paintings, and then I could make all the money I needed.”

“So what happened with that?” asked Fred.

“It, uh, did not really go that well,” said Tim. “He invited some of his rich friends and they ridiculed me. They said that my paintings were amateurish and that I was not a notable name.”

“Well those are rich people! They don’t know anything about art. People like that only buy what's in style—what they can impress their friends with.”

“Even so, the show cost a lot. He got it catered and rented out a space for me, and then he paid for a bunch of copies to be printed out and expected to sell those. It really just put me in debt to him.”

“Then it's good you're with me now,” said Fred with a grin. He put his arm over Tim’s shoulder. “Could you help me with getting some things printed as well?”

“Sure thing, Freddy my man! I do know how to print things,” said Tim the Printer Guy ecstatically.

“How was it working with printers? Weren’t you a printer guy or something for that company?”

“There was something about printers that made sense to me. While we were getting ready for that art show, I went down to a print shop to make all those copies of my artwork. I walked in and was just captivated by it all,” Tim said, while his face lit up, beaming from the memory of seeing a room full of printers. “So many machines, big and small, which painted things onto paper. Someone at the print shop just showed me around in the self-serve area and I naturally took to it and enjoyed pressing all those buttons to make beautiful pictures come out.”

Fred squeezed Tim the Printer Guy’s shoulder. “Great!” he exclaimed, before giving him a rough pat on the back. “I have some photographs that I took a while ago that I have been meaning to print and put up around the house.”

Tim the Printer Guy felt his stomach gurgle with an anxious feeling. “Oh hey, actually, I was going to ask you about that,” he hedged.

Fred stopped his jaunty excitement.

Tim eagerly wanted to express his distaste for the pictures his friend was so fond of and thought now was as good a time as any. “Are those pictures that you want to print, anything like all the ones you already have hanging up?” he asked.

“They were part of my past photography so yeah, they are pretty much like what you see around the house.”

“Oh… uh.” Tim was a bit nervous. “Well, I sort of feel uncomfortable around those pictures.”

“Uncomfortable?”

“Especially the big one in your spare room. I was actually wondering if we could take that down or move it…”

Fred put his hands on his hips, looking dumbfounded. “I don’t know, Tim,” he said. “I mean that is a very large picture, it took me forever to get that up.”

“Oh, I guess…”

“What about it makes you uncomfortable?” Fred demanded, yelling.

Tim the Printer Guy felt choked up. His mind suddenly searched for a way of eloquently expressing his concerns or discomfort. “It's… just the way it is… I mean,” he said, fumbling through and not finding anything even remotely coherent.

Fred cut him off and said, “I have given you a place to stay and food to eat and all… If I were you, I wouldn’t really care what the room looked like.”

“I’m sorry,” said Tim.

“Can you just give it a few days? If you still feel uncomfortable then, I will move it.”

Tim the Printer Guy looked down with shame in his soul. “I did not mean to insult you,” he said.

“What about it makes you uncomfortable?” Fred asked again.

“The man in the photo, he just looks dead and the whole scene is really dark…”

“Yeah, so it's dark—maybe a bit scary? But I think it’s good for you to see that,” Fred said. “Real art is not all just what is pleasing to the eye, it's about digging at something that troubles you and forcing you to come to terms with it!”

Tim understood that assessment, as he found painting did that for him. “You are right, I am sorry. Maybe I just have to work to understand that,” he said.

“You did a great painting! That one with the demon and the girl is dark and provocative,” said Fred. “I don’t see any difference between that and what I do.”

“Well… That painting came during a dark period…”

“And I got something from it. The demon is breathtaking! The way its tongue twists and turns and is scaring the girl—that is something really cool!”

Tim the Printer Guy was a bit confused about what Fred got out of the painting. An unconscious, emotional response, made Tim paint that demon, as a reflection of the ugliness he wished to purge. It was more discomforting to know that Fred either identified with it or thought it was aesthetically pleasing.

“Okay, I am sorry. How do you want to connect all these cameras together?” Tim solemnly asked.

“I have a laptop in the house. I think we just go somewhere on that and it just syncs up.”

Fred was an enigma today. He seemed so confident in the setup of these cameras—not needing Tim’s help at all. Different from the computer illiterate man that Tim the Printer Guy met at PaperClips some time ago.

“Let me go and see if I can do that for you,” said Tim, before walking back into the house and finding the laptop, sitting on the kitchen table.

It was already logged into the camera system and Tim the Printer Guy saw a square button in the right corner that read “sync”. He pressed that button and all the camera angles fluttered on the screen. There was a box that contained the footage from Mikeal’s backyard. Tim the Printer Guy saw Octavian and Mikeal hanging around two women. He recognized Racquel, but was not yet familiar with the other. This must have been the one they called Sindy. She had long curly, brown hair and pale, alabaster skin. Despite the heat outside, Tim noticed that she was wearing a long-sleeve shirt. They looked like they were having a good time—laughing and sipping on cool drinks. Anger started to dwell within Tim the Printer Guy. The seed of jealousy was planted and sent his heart into a furious tempo. His breathing was rapid again, finding the anxiety he thought was extinguished from his life.

Tim the Printer Guy ran up stairs, to his bedroom, and opened the dresser drawer by his bed. He looked down and saw Cage’s hat. Tim, along with Fred, had saved this relic, yet his friend still did not know its significance. He shoved his face into the hat and inhaled—breathing in sweet relief. He then turned back and saw that portrait again. It disturbed him and sent more anxiety in his soul. Tim breathed into the hat again, and again, and again…