I am a viper at my father's breast.

He has taken me into his home. He has welcomed me to his side. He has given me responsibility and praise. He has made me his right hand.

He has given me love.

I have fought beside him. I have led his men—my men?—into battle at his command. I have passed every test, exceeded all his expectations.

He has given me nothing but support and affection.

I will betray him. I am betraying him. I have always betrayed him.

I will break his heart.

When Tula was lost—when my parentage was discovered—when Robin—no, Nightwing—came to me with this plan I welcomed it.

I needed something to distract me from the pain that threatened to overwhelm me. I needed danger. I needed risk.

If the plan worked, we would finally be able to destroy the Light once and for all.

If it failed … if it failed and I died, then all the better …

I was not sure that Black Manta would accept me. I was not sure that he would trust me.

I did not expect that he would love me.

I knew Black Manta as a villain. I knew that he had done terrible things. His battles with my king are legends among my people. To me, he had always been a monster.

I expected to betray a monster.

I did not expect that I would be betraying a man.

His men follow his orders—my orders—to the letter, but he does not abuse them. He does not belittle them. He gives them respect and expects me to do the same.

They trust him.

They trust me.

They have fought beside me. They have fought for me. They have risked their lives at my orders.

And I will betray them.

I must betray them.

I am a hero.

I am supposed to be a hero.

All my life, I have done my duty, and I will do what must be done. What I swore I would do.

I will destroy the Light.

I will betray Black Manta.

I will betray his men—my men.

I will win.

And the key to my victory is not my courage or skill. Not my bravery or will.

The key to victory is that Black Manta has enough good in him to love his child.

And I have enough evil to take advantage of that.

My father holds me in his arms and sheds tears of gratitude over my recovery. He tells me how thankful he is to have his son back once more.

And I let him.

I let him even though my heart recoils in horror and self-loathing over what I have done to fight the Light. I let him even though part of me wants nothing more than to confess all and let him do what he will.

In another life, I would have been proud to be his son.

Now … now I know nothing but shame.

Not over his sins, his crimes, but over mine.

I am a viper at my father's breast.

And I will never be innocent again.