Be as the hand. It can close in a mailed fist, become an instrument of ruthless justice. But it can also open in welcome and understanding.

Be as the Hand, heroes.

- Old Teachings

Acquamarine waved her hands in a complicated gesture, the currents flowing around her weaving and twisting in reaction.

The water jetting all across the street answered.

The sprouts from the hydrants and the gutters and the manholes; they twisted like ropes, condensed in thick tubes of violent pressure. They rose, arching in the air midst cascades of twinkling droplets. Turning toward him.

Dark moved out of the way, a column of water crashing into the place where he had been a moment before. He couldn't dodge the second one, though.

It smashed him to the ground, a waterfall-worth of rushing water crashing atop of him with enough strength to wipe out the asphalt of the street beneath.

The water pooled around and beneath him as he struggled against the rush. Suddenly, it rose, lifting him up just as the stream from above relented. Dark blinked quickly, struggling to understand where his head and feet were. Out of instinct, he kicked, but a violent mass of waves was already carrying him across the street.

It threw him a moment later, sending him pivoting into the air. Dark had a vision of the street and the sun and the sky, all spinning around like a merry dance. Then, water. Water filled the world. Why, water was the world. Tumultuous currents slapping his limbs around, roaring in his ears, filling his mouth. All he could do was, well, not a damn thing. Only be tossed and turned like a marionette taken in a storm.

He was on the ground, water, damn water, draining around him. He blinked at the sun, feeling like someone had replaced the inside of his head with cotton. There wasn't an inch of him that didn't feel sore.

He gargled, before realizing that he was full of water. Turning, he let it out of him with a long breath. He was letting it happen when Acquamarine's curious eyes appeared above.

"You don't need to breathe?" The girl asked, sounding more curious than actually surprised.

Dark tried to tell her that no, he didn't need no air, that he was built different than all those squishy humans and their stupid little knives and stupid little glasses. All it came out was a long rattle and a sprout of droplets.

But wait a moment. Weren't they… fighting? Weren't they, like…? Yes, they were. Fucking yes, they were!

Shaking the daze away, spitting water, Dark scrambled at his feet. His body screamed in protest, but he ignored it.

Acquamarine hopped back, easily avoiding his swipe.

"You are kinda tough," she said with a puzzled frown.

Damn right he was. No way that a little water was going to put him down.

Dark put a foot down, wobbled a bit, found his footing again, then grinned.

Acquamarine just stood there, annoyingly unruffled. After all that twisting and spinning and swimming, she could have at least the decency of looking frazzled.

Dark felt a sudden gloominess. It wasn't right.

He didn't have a power that let you move stadium-size masses of water, that let you blast and throw your opponents while standing comfortably fifty meters away. All he had was tough skin and long legs and claws. Why did he have only those?

It wasn't right.

A gentle touch on his back made him tense, before he relaxed once more. Behind him, there was an alley. He could almost see the few shadows, bubbling and twisting into the hidden corners, the tendrils of ink snaking from them to him. He could definitely feel them though, the way they healed his wounds and made him taller and stronger. He could definitely hear the whispers of the one-many thing in his ears.

He grinned. Maybe he hadn't it as bad as he thought.

If she noticed, Acquamarine didn't show it. The girl contemplated him, managing to make drama even of that simple thing. Dark could almost hear the deep "mmmh" as she caressed her chin with slow, exaggerated movements.

If he hadn't been primed and ready, he'd have sighed.

"Has someone made you angry?" She asked suddenly.

Dark frowned. Where did that come from?

He kinda expected her to sneak in a surprise attack after that, but she just stood there, waiting. She actually wanted to know.

It threw Dark off. He worked his mouth, but wasn't sure what to say or do.

He eventually settled on a quick answer.

"A dude." The face of the guy with the gem on his cravat from the store flitted across his mind's eye. It made him angry, but he clamped down on it.

Acquamarine's contemplative look wasn't fazed.

All of a sudden, she put two fingers to her eyes, mimicking a pair of goggles. "Were they looking?"

Dark almost jumped at that. For a scary moment, he thought she was some kind of telepath, mind-reading freak. But no, she was all about water. Nobody had the capacity for more than one superpower.

Right?

His startled expression must have been enough for her.

She giggled, the cheery sound making him bristle.

"And you destroyed a whole street because they looked at you funny?" She asked. It wasn't offensive, or incredulous, or annoying. It was just a question, with some amused teasing in it, but with all the interest to know behind it.

Dark hated it.

"They didn't look at me funny!" He protested, annoyed. "They…"

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Those looks, all around him, telling him that he was different, that he wasn't welcome, that he wouldn't ever fit in. Ever.

He felt queasy. "I am not one of them." It was difficult to say it, and it hurt. Dark tightened his fists. It shouldn't have hurt.

Acquamarine watched him, curious. "What are you then?"

The question took him aback. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked at his hands. They were long and black and razor-sharp. Not the hands of a human. The hands of… what? He thought of the Darkness, of the one-many thing singing to him, making him feel at home. Not a human. A thing of that… of the Darkness.

"Maybe."

Dark looked up, surprised. Acquamarine watched him. Both the light teasing and the amused twinkling were gone. Now, she was serious. Solemnly so.

"But you got two of these." She grinned as she mimicked the goggles again. "Two of these." She clasped her hands together. "And all that matter, one of these." She bumped her chest with her knuckles, a tough gesture that definitely didn't belong to her, but still hit home all the same, like someone had hit him on the head with a steel pillar. "That's human enough, you know?"

Dark repressed the need to step back. Where the hell had the fight gone to? Weren't they fighting a moment ago? Could they just go back to do that? Could they? Please?

"It's… it's more than that," he managed to ground out.

"It is?" Acquamarine touched her chin with a finger, looking pensive. She shrugged, the smile returning. "To me, it sounds like someone made you angry, people looked at you funny, and you decided it was enough to destroy a street, fight an attack helicopter and take enough bullets to fill a closet."

Now that…! That made it sound a lot more stupid than it actually was. Dark struggled to summon the face of the cravat guy, the rage it brought him, but all he got was a blurry smudge. He didn't even remember what gem he had on his tie. Was it a… a diamond? No, it wasn't! What it was?

Not knowing startled him. He squeezed his brain, but he couldn't quite remember.

"It's more than that!" He repeated and it sounded just as lame as his frantic efforts to remember. The looks people gave them were still there but they increasingly felt like soap bubbles: rupturing and flying away as he tried to grab them.

"Is it?" Acquamarine repeated gently. "I am sure it is. So, why?"

That's it! Dark had enough. He was done. Done, done, done!

"Why why why!" He prattled. "Shut up, that's why!" He lifted his fists. "I'll show you how different I am!"

Squatting down, he sank his hands into the street, the claws screeching as they sheared through the asphalt. He grunted as he started to pull. Cracks ran across the street, Acquamarine's eyes following them curiously as they reached her feet. Dark pulled harder, squeezing his eyes shut. His arms trembled with exertion. Cracks resounded as rock broke. With a roar, he pulled a block out of the street, throwing it in the air.

Acquamarine watched it sail toward her, mouth opened in an O as the shadow covered her.

She lifted a leg and daintily stepped to the side. The block crashed where she had been, the blow making the entire street tremble.

Dark panted, grinning as he admired his handiwork. The block was as tall as the first floor of a building and almost as large. It could have crushed a battle tank, smashed a bunker, swiped that stupid attack helicopter straight out of the sky.

"See? See?" He barked, vindication flowing through him. "You think a human could do that?" No way. No absolute way. And that was why he was different, why he was a giant and they were all dwarfs.

Acquamarine watched the wall of ragged rock an inch away from her shoulder, an eyebrow cocked. Then she watched him.

She shrugged. "Sure."

"WHAT?!"

Dark felt the urgent need to rip his hair out. The tophat meekly suggested for him to get a grip, and he almost ripped the damn thing off his head and threw it to the ground.

"Shut up!" He barked. "Shut up and fight!" He was done talking. He was done!

He pounced, filling the distance between them in a split second. It was still enough for her to slip away from his claws, but he didn't relent. He kept chasing her, jumping and snarling and trying his best to get her. But she just kept moving out of the way a moment before, to the point that he ended up looking down.

Het feet sank into two bubbles of water up to the calf. They rushed with currents when she moved, almost making it look like she had two wheels in place of her feet; wheels that carried her along the street pavement faster than anything he could muster.

Dark swung angrily, the girl leaning her body beneath his blow. She lifted her hands, and water surged from the puddles. It gathered around her fists, enclosing them in twins of the bubbles at her feet.

Dark didn't care. Columns and jets he could be wary of, but what was she going to do with those little things? Wash him to death?

He swung, the girl ducking and moving behind him. Snarling, he turned and punched low, a heavy blow that would have caved a steel door. Acquamarine raised a hand and took it. Dark's hand sank into the bubble. It felt a bit like jelly, he thought, surprised by the resistance. The water inside swirled and twirled, and his fist's deadly momentum ended with a soft thud against her palm.

Dark gaped at the very small hand holding his very large fist.

He had the time to see Acquamarine's eyes twinkle with mischief. Then her fist smashed against his cheek.

Dark had no idea how it worked. If it was some kind of water-manipulation that turned the liquid into super pillows, or if it was just her moving the water with her mind, to make it become both a shield and a sword. All he knew was that that was one hell of a punch.

Forget bullets, forget explosives. That was a blow, a real one, one that he would remember as long as he lived. The Top Ten kind of punches, the kind you recalled after being hit very hard and couldn't but make a comparison with.

Not the punch he expected from a human, that was for sure.

He stumbled back, head ringing something fierce, hand running for the sore spot. Bad mistake. The other fist came fast and just as hard, knocking the air out of his lungs. He found himself sprawled on the street, coughing and rasping and wondering what happened.

Blearily, he looked up.

Acquamarine made a couple of little jumps, took a martial art pose, smiled brightly and gestured for him to come.

Dark, that never learned his lesson, snarled, got up and obliged.

He got the shit beaten out of him.

It wasn't like she felt very fast or very strong. It felt more like there was a damn wall between them, an oppressing thing made out of unbreakable bubbles and rubber water. And where that wall wasn't, her body felt like it was made of wind, always swishing away from him, never where his own fingers were, always a hairbreadth away, unreachable. All the while, she handed him blows that made him feel like someone was using his head to smash through a wall, each punch connecting with unerring accuracy.

You wouldn't think that being beaten to a pulp was a conducive way to stimulate thinking, and yet, Dark found himself doing just that. The stares from the people, the mocking smile from the man with the tie, Acquamarine's words, the moon-song from the one-many thing. They all mixed together, dancing around him like a string of kids playing ring around the rosie.

Was he different? He was. He had to be. Otherwise, he was pretty stupid. And he didn't want that. He didn't want to feel stupid. So he had to be different. Only if he was different did all of this make sense.

If he was different, it made sense for him to go nuts and break everything, for people to shoot him, for him to shoot back, to crack open shops, for attack helicopters to shoot grenades at him and for soldiers to stab him with tasers. If he was different and alone, it all made perfect sense. If he wasn't, it didn't. If he wasn't, it was all the stupidest thing in the world.

Why hadn't he realized it earlier? Because he was having fun, he guessed. He liked fighting. He liked danger, bullets bouncing against his skin, people running from him.

But that alone was no excuse for all of this, not of a long shot.

So he had to be different. He had to be hated and left alone and disregarded and thrown out. He needed himself to be a giant and for them to be dwarfs. And they were, weren't they? Wasn't he? He was tall. He was strong. He did things that humans couldn't do, couldn't even hope to do.

But here this girl, beating the shit out of him. She wasn't tall like him, not nearly so, but she was different. Had to be. Because he was strong and that made him different from the others. If she was stronger, she had to be different as well. It made sense, right?

Right?

But, that's the trick. If he was different from normal men, and she was different from him. Better. Then…

"What are you?"

Acquamarine paused her rush to look at him in surprise. Dark didn't feel the pain. He didn't feel his head killing him and his face feeling like a drum someone had thrown a punch through. All he wanted was the answer to that question. His life depended on him.

Acquamarine's expression turned pensive. Then she smiled mischievously and threw her little salute-sign with a hand.

Then she punched the shit out of him.

"I am human!"

As he flew backward, his head turned by the blow, Dark still thought. Not long reasonings this time, only a simple line.

He was a moron.