Tim the Printer Guy waited anxiously on the steps of the old apartment building. The sky was dark gray, and cloudy and the parking lot around him was wet with rain, still misting all around. Beside Tim, was a drawstring backpack that contained a few clothes he took from home, his Jitterbug and smartphone, a sketchpad, and Shinayaka Shojo. As he looked around, memories of ProSales flooded his mind. The beatings, the tears, and the control, still wrapped around Tim’s neck like a noose. He rubbed the back of his head and took a deep breath, remembering his purpose and his mission. A Land Rover swung into the parking lot at great speed and stopped right in front of Tim the Printer Guy. Getting out of the vehicle was Skeeter, with a lopsided saunter, occasionally bumping into the hood of the car. He then threw back a swig from a small flask, taken from the inside of his jacket pocket. Tim got up to face him. Skeeter was completely ragged, drunkenly eyeing him up and down. He stumbled over to Tim, and embraced him with a sort of empty hug.

“Errr… good to see you Tim,” said Skeeter.

“Yes,” Tim responded with little emotion. “Hopefully, we can move on and I will continue working with the printers.”

“Oh yeah, about that. I told you over the phone, that there have been changes and uh… you got to go through training for a bit…” Skeeter almost mumbled.

“Yes, I said that would be fine,” Tim said.

Skeeter then banged on the hood of the car and ushered for someone to come out. Tim the Printer Guy held his breath as the passenger-side door opened. All of those pain-filled memories disappeared and the sun began to stream through the clouds. Tim was met with Jamir yet again. He moved over to the two with complete obedience, as Skeeter put his arm over Tim.

“Okay Tim, you ride along with Jamir until you get acquainted with everything again,” said Skeeter. “... and listen, my father doesn’t know about me hiring you again, so uh… you won’t get paid until I figure out how to make it so he never finds out. Until then, you can stay in the apartment with Jamir but don’t make yourself known.”

“He has my old room?” Tim asked.

“Yeah,” said Skeeter. “This young man is really dedicated and an asset to our company. He will train you well.”

Jamir training Tim the Printer Guy? The idea tickled him everso; however, it did not distract from the mission. This was the only way to get close. With all his charm, Tim the Printer Guy would have to persuade Jamir to leave ProSales and relinquish the control Skeeter had over him. Another Adonis was about to be saved!

“He also has your old Focus, so ride with him for the day,” said Skeeter, before taking another drink from the flask.

“C’mon Tim,” said Jamir.

Tim the Printer Guy followed the exotic one to the old car, parked on the other side of the lot. It was still worn down and used, filled to the brim of trash and blue polos. He opened the door and threw his bag in the backseat. As he climbed into the passenger’s side, Tim noticed little crumbs, and shards of cheese, still there from when he was traveling store to store. The smells were similar but not the same, as the odor of food and sweat mixed with Jamir’s foreign spices. He started up the car and Tim the Printer Guy was whisked away. Skeeter could be seen in the rearview mirror, looking on as the two left and taking more drinks from his flask.

Tim was living out his dream, as he found himself in a car, alone, with the exotic Adonis of knowledge. Today, Jamir was sporting an interesting turban. It looked like a knitted cap with the ProSales logo on the side. His satin, pointed slippers were also gone, as Jamir was wearing the same posturepedic shoes that Tim would wear.

“So, where are you taking me to?” asked Tim the Printer Guy with a grin.

“We are going to the Cubicle Warehouse then maybe, if we have time, the Best Value,” said Jamir.

“Oh, so proactive…” said Tim, coyly. Though the objective was to show Jamir how horrible ProSales could be, Tim the Printer Guy couldn’t help but flirt. He would twirl his fingers in the door handle and shoot little glances from the corner of his eye. “Do you like this job?” Tim asked.

“It is a job,” said Jamir, sternly. “It will do until I find something else in the tech field. Skeeter says that ProSales is a great stepping stone.”

“He said that?” Tim held his tongue for the time being. It would be unwise to unload all the past misery on him now. If he was going to do this right, he would have to understand how Skeeter had indoctrinated him.

“... and he said that I have been doing well. It’s not too hard, and I get this car to drive around,” said Jamir.

“It is a shame though, they have you wearing that uniform. I always liked the PaperClips colors on you—they looked good against your darker skin.”

The comment made Jamir uncomfortable. “Thank you?” he said with a worried and hesitant inflection.

“Also, I miss those shoes you wore. The ones with the bells on the tips. They reminded me of Aladdin.”

“Uh… that must have been someone else. I don’t know what you are talking about,” said Jamir, trying to keep his eyes on the road.

Tim was confused. “Those slippers with the tiny bells, that always matched whatever color turban you’d wear?” he restated.

“Tim, I don’t know if you are joking but please stop. I don’t wear turbans, or slippers. I have always worn hats like this—like ski caps, y’know…” Jamir elaborated, as he seemed offended.

“Well then, why have…” Tim the Printer Guy sat back and thought to all those times he would stop by the store and catch Jamir working. Each time he could picture him wearing a large, beautiful arabic turban with a little feather. Was Tim remembering a false reality? He decided to shut his mouth and play along. “yes , haha jokes…” he said.

The two stayed silent until they arrived at their first destination. Jamir looked over at Tim and remarked on his own clothing, which was nothing but a ratty t-shirt and tight shorts.

“It might be a good idea to just take one of those polos in the back to wear, so we at least look professional. I think one or two might still be yours,” said Jamir.

Tim the Printer Guy reached in the back for a polo, yet all that was there was the smaller sizes, tailored to that of Jamir. As he put it on, he found that it would not go past his belly button.

The two got out of the car and Jamir looked down at Tim’s stomach poking out. He shuddered and then sighed. “Whatever, we can get more from Skeeter,” he said.

They walked in the door, and Tim the Printer Guy was met with a different type of office supply store. There were large printers, similar to those he saw at the print shop. Actual walls for cubicles, available on shelves with televisions and projectors. ProSales had been working hard it seemed, securing new contracts.

“Over here!” Jamir commanded, leading Tim to the printer aisle. “I like to just sit over here and wait for people to come up.” He then started to adjust certain aspects of the printers and straighten the pamphlets beside them.

Tim the Printer Guy was impressed with Jamir’s diligence. A tear came to his eye, as perhaps the teachings had an effect over him after all; however Tim had to refocus on his mission. This life was not for them.

“You sure have taken to this job,” said Tim. “Are you happy doing this?”

Jamir did not break from his tasks. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean, don’t you hate it when you have to talk to people about these things?”

“Well, it's not too bad. The job is pretty easy and everyone is nice for the most part.”

Tim the Printer Guy couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Nice?” he asked. “These gremlins! Every time I would come to a store they would just make me go insane.”

“Is that what you thought about us?” Jamir asked.

The question almost felt like a sword through Tim’s heart. “No,” he said. ‘You all were different. You actually paid attention and asked questions. I loved your store. I mean, except for Adem.”

“Didn’t you yell at him, or something?” Jamir asked.

Tim’s face got red. “Well, he uh… provoked me… I was having a bad day,” he muttered. “You saw that?”

“I was talking with Skeeter at that time, so I really just heard about it,” said Jamir. “I was already so done with working at PaperClips, so I didn’t really care to ask what really happened. I didn’t really like him either.”

“You didn’t?”

“He was pretty lazy and didn’t want to do much. When I took over as supervisor, I was always writing him up for something,” said Jamir.

“Yes!” Tim exclaimed, with more tears in his eyes. “You do understand.”

“I am just happy I am doing this and not at that store any more,” said Jamir.

Tim the Printer Guy had to make a stand, as perhaps this life of ProSales was starting to appeal more to the young Adonis. “I just think you can do so much more,” he said. “I mean you are already so smart and beautiful, the job offers should be rolling in. This may seem fine, but ProSales can be controlling.”

“Well, the health care is alright…” said Jamir.

Tim the Printer Guy was confused. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Jamir turned to Tim. “I was at one of the stores and some kid kicked me in the shins,” he said. “Skeeter went to some doctor and got me some painkillers and I didn’t have to pay for anything.”

“Painkillers?”

Jamir took out the same plastic vial from his pocket. It contained the drugs that Skeeter’s mysterious doctor had given to Tim, to dull his mind—to hopefully make him more subservient. Tim the Printer Guy quickly swatted the vial out of his hand, then grabbed hold of the Adonis’ shirt.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Tim, what the hell?” exclaimed Jamir.

“Listen, I wanted to ease you into this but I can see that you are already too far gone,” Tim the Printer Guy aggressively whispered. “Look, ProSales will just use you up and spit you out and I would know because…”

Just then, Tim was cut off by a feathered gremlin employee. “Hey are you the guys who are supposed to train me or whatever?” it asked.

Tim the Printer Guy looked over at the dull, insignificant gremlin. He stood tall with a husky frame, and his hair was curly and molded by sweat. He wore glasses that did nothing to cover his face, which was full of acne and grease. Tim could see a bit of drool coming from his mouth which hung open.

“Please go away,” Tim calmly told the gremlin.

“Yeah, we are the guys,” Jamir piped in, stepping away from Tim’s grasp. “Do you know about the ProSales app?” He began to show the gremlin how to sign into the courses on his phone. “You can just answer these questions on this app, and then watch a video. If you have any questions, just ask us.”

The gremlin began to mindlessly poke at his phone, while Jamir turned back towards Tim.

“Those pills are not good for you,” Tim the Printer Guy whispered to Jamir. “Skeeter will start to control your mind.”

“Okay Tim, you are acting stranger than usual,” whispered the Adonis, before looking around—seeing if anyone was noticing the commotion.

Tim the Printer Guy, it seemed, was losing his grasp on the situation at hand. Even the gawky, feathered employee started to cautiously back away from the two of them. Jamir started to develop a slight sweat that formed on the back of his neck.

“I just want to protect you,” said Tim. He put his hands over Jamir’s shoulders again, attempting to soothe him. “This job is nothing more than a pit of darkness.”

“Then why are you here?” asked Jamir, before forcing Tim’s hands off of his shoulders.

“For you.”

Jamir’s eyebrows lifted. “What are you talking about?” he asked, nervously.

This was the moment Tim was waiting for—an overwhelming situation that he always dreamed about, wanting it to happen, but also dreading it. “You are an Adonis,” he said. “You showed me the meaning of beauty and creativity. I came to protect you.”

“Adonis?” Jamir asked, with uneasiness.

“You are a true beauty. I have always wanted to be close to you—to guide you. You gave me the urge to be creative again. I paint—you see—and you provide the will to do so!”

Jamir Sambol, a man who wanted nothing more than to just do his job quietly, was suddenly put in an extremely uncomfortable situation. Tim the Printer Guy always seemed harmless to him. His quirks were seen as nothing but the typical, anti-social behavior one would see in anyone throughout the IT field. Yet, as Tim stared at Jamir with a pair of bulging, bloodshot eyes, face drenched in sweat, desperate for a response, he knew that he may have made a mistake. This man may have been unstable.

“Tim, listen…” Jamir began, trying to remain calm. “I don’t know what you are feeling right now, if you are in love with me or what?… But I don’t feel the same.”

Tim the Printer Guy felt his chest swell, which forced more tears through his eyes. “What?” he asked.

“Just… Let’s keep this professional, okay? If not, then I will have to call Skeeter, because you are making me really uncomfortable,” said Jamir, who returned to mindlessly straightening printers and pamphlets.

“Professional?” Tim restated, trapped in the fog of this unexpected request. He looked on as his precious Adonis worked hard to avoid him. Each painful attempt to serve these men ended in failure, and now Tim was pierced by direct rejection. Jamir had chosen ProSales over him—his worst fear.

Mikeal and Octavian were still yet to return Tim’s affections, as was Cage. After going through hell to come to terms with what they meant to him, Jamir made it clear that it was all for nothing. Tim had saved them from Fred Shudnow’s lust for manipulation, who had come to PaperClips all those times, looking for them. Tim the Printer Guy was the one tied up to the bed, at the other end of Fred’s camera, and high on his drugs—all for them! Though he did not want the Adonises to know each detail of his exploits, Tim thought, at least, they would be glad that he nurtured their inner beauty. Was this the final straw? Had the Adonises finally proved to Tim that they were just like the rest of society—like the gremlins? They did nothing to show him that they were worth his devotion.

As more silence filled the void between the two of them, Tim began to huff and sweat. He could feel his stomach gurgle with that same anxiety—festering within him and forcing noxious gasses to exit his body. Jamir made a grimace as he began to smell Tim’s rotted soul and utter humiliation. The same anger that showed itself with Fred began to build in his mind. Despite Jamir telling him that he did not like Adem, he could have sworn that the two of them had friendly chats, different to those had with Tim. Was this the clarity that he needed? Where was the Bandaged Cage now?

“I am going to the bathroom,” said Tim the Printer Guy, cryptically. He turned and silently walked away from Jamir—devoid of life.

Suddenly, he found himself back before a mirror, clutching the sink. This time he did not want to see that vision of Cage again as it always beckoned him to return to a life of misery. Tim the Printer Guy let out a long scream, as he needed to purge those feelings from his body. He thought of every moment with them, and kept finding the same empty promises within their interactions. Everyone thought he was crazy, even his own mother—the guiding spirit of his life. There was nothing left in the world for him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a pair of feet in one of the stalls.

“Bandaged Cage!” he shouted, before violently kicking down the stall door.

Instead of the ghostly apparition, Tim was furiously standing over a small, cowardly child. The child, for a moment, was silent and cemented to the toilet seat until Tim’s visage of rage broke his psyche, causing him to cry and scream for his mother. Tim the Printer Guy withheld his anger as the young child wept. He seemed to be male and chubby, reminding Tim of himself.

“I was once like you,” he said to the boy. “Stop crying young one!”

The child did what it was told and shut its mouth, giving Tim another reflection of what it felt like to be subservient and trapped in fear. He wanted to show the Adonises and his father that he was worthy. Jamir could not see that Tim the Printer Guy was a champion and it was of such disrespect that he could not find love in his heart for him. Tim was no longer a child.

“Focus on your passions!” he shouted, before storming off.

Tim the Printer Guy left the restroom and began to walk back to the printer aisle. “Jamir chose Skeeter over me,” he whispered to himself. “They chose Adem over me. They chose those ‘girlfriends’ over me.” He thought about what he had in the back of the car. Shinayaka Shojo lay in the backseat, beckoning Tim to use it. There was to be no more pondering—no more time wasted on them. Tim the Printer Guy’s heart was racing with frustration and pain, feeling the world crumble. He needed something in his life to go right—just once!

“Alright Tim, let’s finish up here and then we can go back to the apartment. I uh… have a meeting with Skeeter,” said Jamir, feigning forgetfulness.

Tim narrowed down on him, with the same amount of anger he mistakenly showed that child. “You lying little shit!” he yelled.

“Wha…”

Tim the Printer Guy grabbed Jamir and threw him over his shoulder. He ran to the car and yanked open the back door, as the key was still in the pocket of the former Adonis who was kicking and screaming in Tim’s arms.

“Tim!” screamed Jamir. “What are you doing?”

“You think of me as nothing!” shouted Tim. “Don’t you know that I am doing this to help you? You are ungrateful just like the others!”

“Holy shit, calm down!”

Tim the Printer Guy slapped him across the face. Do you think I like doing that?” he asked. “No! It kills me inside.” Tim shoved his hand down Jamir’s pocket and fished out the key. “Let’s go,” he said, slamming the door shut.

A crowd of gremlins started to form around the car. Their feathery eyes stared on with dumbfound shock and awe. Some were taking out their phones to shoot video, while others were making calls, perhaps to the police.

“Is this what you want?!” Tim shouted at them. “My pain for all to see? Your eyes reign down on me, yet you do not even see who I am. I am a gentle soul, who just wanted to paint and bring beauty into this world.”

“Someone help me!” Jamir shouted from the car.

“That is enough out of you!” screamed Tim, before getting into the front seat and starting the ignition. The car barrelled out of the parking lot, almost hitting a few of the on-lookers, who jumped in his way. Tim sat behind the steering wheel, in tears, tense, and shouting expletives at each turn and person he passed.

Never in his wildest dreams would he think that a situation like this would happen—forcibly restraining an Adonis! Tim the Printer Guy knew deep in his heart that this was the only way to save him, yet he was at a loss for what to do next.

Jamir did not fidget all too much. He thought that if he were to reason with this mad man, he might have a better chance at escaping with his life.

“Tim please… What do you want from me?” he asked.

“Oh, so now you want to know what I want,” said Tim, trying to keep his eyes on the road.

“Of course Tim, I care about you, okay?”

“No you don’t,” said Tim, wiping away tears. “You just want me to let you go. But you are not going anywhere.”

“Then where are you taking me?”

“We are going back to the apartment,” said Tim, flustered and trying to not give Jamir much attention. “You wanted to go back to the apartment!”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know, just give me some time to think! I… I need you to know that this is what you get, when you work for Skeeter,” Tim sputtered. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“If you don’t want to hurt me, please let me go,” said Jamir.

“I can’t do that,” said Tim.

“Why not?”

“Because you need someone to keep you safe! You don’t understand what the world is like out there,” Tim shouted, like a nagging parent.

The car swerved through the roads, catching dirty looks and honks from disgruntled drivers. A pill bottle was rolling around by his feet. Tim the Printer Guy picked it up and swallowed everything in one inhale.

“These pills are bad for you!” Tim screamed at Jamir. “Do as I say, not as I do.”

“Tim, please. I don’t feel safe now. How about you pull the car over so we can talk things out?” asked Jamir, attempting to ease the situation again. Out the window, he could see a small gas station that he knew was still close to downtown. “Tim, why don’t we pull in there and we can get gas and talk some things out. I can buy you a coffee.”

“No, no coffee…” Tim muttered.

“Well, I wanted to get gas anyway. If you fill the tank, I would really appreciate it,” said Jamir, talking more sweetly to his captor—desperately trying to get him to stop the car.

“We will go back to the apartment,” said Tim, who then reached in the backseat to grab his bag.

Jamir almost forgot about that long drawstring bag. It looked lumpy but had something peculiar protruding from it. “What do you have there?” he asked.

Tim the Printer Guy pulled out his katana, which caused Jamir to panic. “Oh shit!” he exclaimed.

“Now you know my true self—a life I wanted to keep hidden from all of you,” said Tim the Printer Guy. “I am a samurai, fearlessly fighting off evil and protecting what's beautiful.”

“What in the hell are you talking about?”

“The world is not safe! I can use this to protect you,” Tim shouted.

Quickly, Jamir realized they were already back at the apartment complex. Tim stopped the car, and got out—sword in hand. In a strange, awkward fashion, he started to adapt this square stance, holding the katana in a defensive way. Tim the Printer Guy’s eyes darted around the complex and parking lot. As he hopped around, Tim imagined himself fighting off invisible forces. He waved the sword around, which truly petrified Jamir. Tim the Printer Guy’s mind was deteriorating rapidly, as he was making sound effects with his mouth: “woosh, whew!” He then pulled open the door and thrusted the sword at Jamir’s face. “Come with me!” Tim grunted, motioning for him to follow.

Jamir put up his hands. “Okay Tim, I’ll listen…” he said as he slowly stood.

“Get inside! But be quick; evil is all around us!” exclaimed Tim the Printer Guy.