Dion was terrified. He didn’t understand why someone would want him for ransom, and how he knew his mother. Dion was also upset that he had only asked for five grand! Surely his life must be worth more than that! He nearly jumped out of his chair when Nero turned to look at him.

“I’m not going to kill you," said Nero. “I’m not going to kill your parents either."

Dion cried harder because his fate was sealed with a kiss.

He knew he was going to die; he didn’t even know his father. Dion’s father walked out on him and his mother when he was still a baby. His mother said he died three years ago. A dead man could never come to his rescue.

Nero looked at the blubbering popstar awkwardly and tried to apologize without apologizing because he never did. He opened the fridge got out a milk jug, poured out a cup, and walked over to Dion.

“Drink," he said.

Dion was confused but he did as he was told, hoping that it wasn’t laced with a strange concoction. Anything to keep him alive a little bit longer. When he was done, Nero left the room and returned with a second gun.

He sat at the table across from Dion and waited. His father had 45 minutes. Nero felt that was more than generous seeing as his father didn’t live very far from the dilapidated beach house they were inside.

They were inside one of many safe houses littered across the city. This one was barely used as it was falling apart. The floorboards creaked, and you could feel the wind pass through the house. Nero knew that no one would ever look there and that Alto wouldn’t complain if he set this house on fire.

A knock came at the door.

“Hello! Is this the place," yelled the man.

Nero opened the door, and before him stood the tattoo artist.

“Who are you," he asked.

Nero didn’t say a single word, as he moved to the side to let the tattoo artist inside.

“I said, who are you," repeated the man.

Tears spilled forth from Nero’s eyes, and the tattoo artist gave him a look of utter disgust, that a strange man lured him to an abandoned house while the town was raining fire and metal.

“Of course, you don’t remember me, you piece of shit. You violated me. You ruined my life,” Nero screamed.

“I have no idea who you are, and why you took my son," yelled the tattoo artist. Nero turned his back towards him and lifted his hair to show the tattoo.

The tattoo artist had seen another piece of his work, easily recognizable because it is usually done in haste before his canvas woke up from the medley of drugs pumped into their systems.

He never thought that this would ever come back to him, but somehow one of his many canvases had tracked him down and was going to kill him inside an old house.

“Please let my son go," said the tattoo artist.

Dion had never seen that man in his life, he didn’t recognize his face or his voice. How could a stranger save his life from a pyromaniac?

“I don’t know who you are," said Dion. “What’s happening ?”

Nero laughed, enjoying that he would now take away what was most important to this man.

His son's love.

Somehow, that love was never there, because Dion had no idea who the tattoo artist was. Nero saw the pain on the man’s face and knew that this enough could deal the damage he wanted.

“Gods above, he doesn’t even know who you are. You’re a deadbeat dad," said Nero.

“I don’t want to be lectured by someone like you,” said the tattoo artist.

“Fair. I’m no better than you in that regard.”

Nero pulled the gun out of his pocket and pointed it at Dion.

“I want you to tell your son what you did to me," said Nero.

“I, I'm sorry I don’t remember," said the man. “I don’t remember."

There was a gross silence. The safety clicked, and it sounded louder than usual in the empty house.

“Start remembering."

“There were so many," said the man. “So many people. Just because you regretted joining Enemy doesn’t me-”

Nero took a few great strides over to the table, grabbed Dion by the head, and slammed it against the table, repeatedly. He screamed with every hard whack onto the table, blood coming out of his nose, milk, and bile rising out of his throat and onto the floor.

Dion tried to fight back, the chair squeaking and his hands jerking while his skull was bashed into the table, and his father pleaded for him to stop, but Nero kept going, looking the tattoo artist in the eyes while he continued until he was out of breath, and let go, his eyes never leaving, making it clear, that he was in charge.

Dion looked up at the man, unable to keep his eyes open all the way, and said, “Just tell him what he wants to hear.” It was hard for him to speak, his nose broken and bleeding into his mouth, lip busted.

“ Tell him," yelled Nero.

The tears started again, and his insanity was clear as day, his entire body heaving, beating his fist against the table and screaming, his voice cracking.

“Tell him what you do for a living. Tell him what you did to me. ”

“I took the job because we had no money. We were broke. Have you ever had to listen to your child cry because there was no food," he asked.

“No," replied Nero. “I would do anything for my son. I would kill anyone for my son. I’m not a failure like you."

“Leave him alone," said Dion. “I’m sure he-” Nero slammed his head into the table again, and Dion was silent.

“Don’t interrupt us. I don’t give a fuck about you."

“I…. I didn’t leave you because I didn’t want you, Dion," said the man. “Your mother found out what I was doing, and she was so upset with me. She didn’t want anything to do with me.”

This story sounded very familiar to Nero.

“I wanted so badly to be in your life, so she agreed that she would send pictures of you, and videos, as long as I continued to pay to support you," he continued. “I just wanted to never hear you cry again. I’m so sorry."

Dion’s father had failed him once again. Here he was, crying, face broken, because of his father’s choices, leading to a madman holding him for ransom.

“You never told him what you did," said Nero. “I don’t give a fuck what your reasoning was. This is the last time I’m asking you nicely."

The man started to breathe hard and fast. He was forced to bear his shame to the last person he ever wanted to know, the only person he loved.

“I would travel to different points in the city," said the man. “Tattooing the property of the Enemy cartel. Women, men, children, it didn’t matter.”

“You think my body doesn’t matter,” Nero screamed. “I matter!”

“I never said that,” the man whispered. “Besides, it’s all okay, because all the money I earned paid for your singing lessons.”

Dion got his head up from the blood-smeared table and looked at Nero, his eyes now wide open, and spat out the rest of the milk inside his system.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry sir,” he said. “You didn’t deserve what happened to you." Nero looked at Dion with brand-new eyes. Dion rolled his head back in an attempt to keep the blood out of his mouth.

“This man is a stranger to me. He…. hurt all those people. He hurt so many people, he doesn’t even remember what he did to you."

“Don’t say that Dion," said the man. “I’m your father. You know me. You know me ." With a cold stare, Dion looked him down.

“I don’t even know your name.”

“ You know me, ” said the man. “My name is Usher. Surely your mother told me stories about you."

“She told me you died three years ago.”

One could hear the man’s soul break in the few moments of silence.

“Don’t say that. Don’t say that. I came for you," said Usher. “I even brought the money." Usher unloaded his backpack onto the table, the bills sliding all over the blood-stained table, and Nero smiled.

Now he could pay his child support for two months.

“Please let my son go," said Usher. “I did exactly as you asked of me. Let him go .”

“I’ll let him go," said Nero. “There’s just one more thing I have to do."

Hope rose inside of Dion. He knew siding with his captor would work. He saw it in the movies, so of course, it would work.

Nero got out a second gun and set it on the table.

“You can shoot him if you want,” said Nero.

“What, why would I shoot him," asked Dion.

“I would. He financed your entire lifestyle from the pain of others.”

Dion’s eyes opened wide. “The singing and dancing lessons," he muttered. “You paid for those with your blood money?"

“Don’t put it like that," said Usher. “And besides, most of those people were used anyway. I was doing them a service to find another way they could make themselves of use.”

Dion was disgusted with Usher. He was disgusted with himself. For years, his fortune and fame were based on the pain of others, facilitated by a man who happened to share fifty percent of his DNA.

His fake sympathy for Nero was now starting to grow, and he didn’t want to ever see Usher again. Dion knew that Nero wasn’t a saint, but the tears and pain coming out of him were all too real.

“My mom was right to never tell me about you. You’re a monster,” Dion said.

Usher believed deep in his heart he was doing what was best for Dion. That eventually Dion would understand. The truth was that day would never come. A flip switched inside of Usher, now that he could never get what he treasured most.

“You ungrateful brat," spat out Usher. “ I did everything for you. I worked my butt off for you.”

“You don’t get an award for doing the bare minimum for your kid,” yelled Dion. “And you don’t try to guilt-trip them for the life you forced on them! Your choices are not mine !"

Nero watched with deep satisfaction as Usher was being torn apart by Dion. Usher couldn’t comprehend what was happening, his years of sacrifice meant nothing to the stranger in front of him, the only bond was the fact that he was a sperm donor.

Usher lunged for the gun on the table, and Nero lunged as well. They wrestled on the floor for it, and Nero screamed that he changed his mind about killing him. Nero took his fingers and stuck them straight up Usher’s nose and twisted them.

Usher cried out in pain and writhed all over the floor like the snake he was. Nero picked up the gun, put it in his pocket, ran to the kitchen drawer, and took out a pair of scissors.

He set Dion free.

“You’re letting me go," asked Dion. “Why?”

Nero stared at Usher with contempt.

“ I wanted him to have his deepest, darkest secret known, just as mine is when people see this tattoo,” Nero replied. “Now I got what he wanted. He can’t hide, just like me. ”

Dion stared at Usher on the floor.

He held no resemblance to Dion at all. His body was covered in tattoos, and he had piercings all over his face, and Dion took solace that no part of him would ever be like him.

“You filthy whore," yelled Usher. “You tricked my son! You turned him against me!”

“You’re a monster,” Dion whispered.

“My offer still stands," said Nero.

Dion looked at Usher and realized what he was. That he was his greatest shame, and his mother’s. Unlike most people, he had the chance to hide it.

“I’ll do it," said Dion.

Nero handed him the gun.

“Don’t do it," said Usher. “Don’t kill me. I’m your fa-”

Dion shot him until the chamber was emptied of bullets.

The sun began to rise, and its light filtered through the window, giving an eerie glow to the blood-stained room.

Nero asked Dion the same question Alto asked him the first day they met.

“How did it feel,” asked Nero. “Did you like your first time?”

“No," said Dion. “I just wanted to get rid of someone who hurt my mom.”

Nero went into the cabinet and got out the first aid kit. He spent time cleaning Dion’s wounds.

“I’m sorry Dion," said Nero. “I promised I wouldn’t kill you. I just had to make it look real.”

Dion nodded in acknowledgment. He understood, but that didn’t make it okay. He was still afraid of Nero, but he knew that he would get to leave alive.

He also felt stupid that he didn’t turn the gun on Nero and emptied the entire chamber on Usher, when he had the chance, now having to sit through the end of the madman’s cathartic process, by cleaning his wounds.

Nero packed all the money into the orange backpack with the guns and the remaining cell phones.

“It’s time to go," said Nero. “You can leave."

Dion exited the old beach house building and was greeted by the warm sun. The blinding light felt strange since he was inside the dark house all night. It reminded him of the bright stage lights. He stared at the ocean as he wondered what he would tell people about last night; no one would believe that a man had kidnapped him and let him go free for no reason.

Dion felt something warm on his back, and he turned to look.

The beach house was engulfed in flames.

Nero stood dangerously close to the burning building, but Dion realized that he probably wasn’t afraid. He didn’t seem afraid of anything, always some sort of extreme emotion plastered all over his face, screaming the entire night until he got what he wanted.

Dion slowly walked, then sped up until he was sure it wouldn’t look too odd, and then finally ran away.

Nero closed his eyes, and smiled, enjoying the sound of the crackling fire, and smoke, sighed, heat pulsating over his body, and something inside of his small, little horrid soul grew.

“Does his death ease your pain?”

He opened his eyes and Nero realized a man had suddenly appeared next to him. He was tall and had deep, brown skin. Instead of hair, his head was ablaze, dancing in the wind. His robes covered only his lower half, and he wore gold anklets. Nero knew who he was.

“Yes, it does Unas."

His pain was still there, the memories always returning in his dreams or daylight, and as he stared into the flames, Nero’s mind wandered back to the root cause of it all.