You hadn’t expected this kind of mission. No high-rise battle in the city, no grim Bat-family stakeout, no Omega-powered tyrant threatening reality. Just the beach. The Atlantic stretched out before you like a mirror cracked with sunlight, waves rolling in steady beats against the sand, their foam curling around scattered driftwood, plastic, and abandoned bottles. A seagull screeched above, dipping low, its cry half-laugh at the sight of two superheroes stooping in the sand with garbage bags instead of wearing warfaces against villains.

Dolphin looked radiant even here, her hair catching the light like spun silver, her eyes—those wide, sea-colored eyes—constantly shifting toward the horizon. Her white-and-blue outfit seemed too clean, too luminous for the grit of the shore, yet she didn’t care about appearances. She knelt in the sand, scooping out a crumpled fishing net tangled with dead seaweed. You watched her, then quickly bent down to collect your own share of the mess before she caught you staring.

It was hard not to. Dolphin was silent by nature, words coming rarely, sometimes not at all, but her presence spoke volumes. Every movement she made was efficient, flowing like waves in shallow tidepools. She didn’t just clean. She rescued the beach, like each fragment of trash was an enemy holding her ocean hostage. You felt clumsy beside her, awkward gloves fumbling at cans, boots slipping in wet sand, but you reminded yourself: heroism starts small.

You wrinkled your nose as you pulled up a cracked bucket half-buried under wet sand. Dolphin noticed, tilted her head, and gave a small smile, soft, almost shy. It was the kind of smile that made you feel you’d just been let into a secret world.

“Not the work you expected?” Her voice was quiet, lilting, strange with its ocean-deep cadence.

You swallowed, then shrugged. “Thought we'd be fighting some aquatic kaiju."

Her gaze lingered on you, unreadable for a moment, before she returned to her task. She didn’t need to lecture; the way she cradled a tiny turtle caught in plastic rings said enough. You hurried over, helping her cut it free with careful hands. The creature kicked once, twice, then scuttled toward the water, leaving faint trails in the sand. Both of you followed its path until the tide carried it away. A silence settled, heavy and oddly moving.

The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in molten pinks and oranges, shadows stretching like dark brushstrokes across the beach. Your bag was nearly full, heavy with discarded wrappers and shards of glass. You wiped sweat from your forehead, glancing at Dolphin again. She had paused, standing at the edge of the surf with the waves lapping around her ankles. She breathed differently out there, ocean was her second set of lungs after all.