Cal groaned as he rolled over, his body still heavy with exhaustion. The faint light of early morning filtered through the blinds, casting pale lines across the room. His phone buzzed incessantly from the nightstand, and he could hear distant banging—someone at the door.
With a sigh, Cal swung his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed his eyes. His body still ached, though most of the pain from last night's fight had faded. He grabbed his phone, seeing several missed calls and texts from Ryan. The banging on the door continued, more insistent now.
"Alright, I'm coming," Cal muttered under his breath as he shuffled to the door, still shirtless.
He swung the door open, revealing Ryan on the other side, looking anxious and wide awake, his hand mid-knock. Ryan stood there in his usual getup—a plain hoodie and jeans, his hair slightly tousled. He had an athletic build, lean but fit, with a quick, sharp expression that always seemed a step ahead. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of Cal.
"Holy shit," Ryan blurted, his eyes scanning Cal's torso. "Dude, you're ripped. What's your ab routine? Getting stabbed in the gut?"
Cal smirked. "Getting shot more often than stabbed now."
Ryan raised an eyebrow, but his expression softened as he stepped inside. "Yeah, well, I guess that's one way to go about it."
Ryan stepped inside, his expression shifting from his usual easygoing humor to something more serious as he glanced around the apartment. "You good, man? I was blowing up your phone. When you didn't respond, I figured I'd swing by."
Cal shrugged, walking over to the kitchen counter and grabbing a glass of water. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just needed sleep. Last night was… rough."
Ryan crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. "Rough? You went toe-to-toe with a bunch of armed guys in a drug warehouse. That's not just rough—that's insane."
Cal drank deeply from the glass, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Yeah, well, I got it done. Found a computer tower, should give us something. But I'm not gonna lie, Ryan—it hurt. Even with the healing, getting shot still sucks." He set the glass down.
Ryan nodded, the concern still clear in his eyes. "So, what now? You just gonna keep going like this? What if it had gone worse?"
Cal didn't respond right away. He was already in the kitchen, pouring hot water over the siphon chamber with practiced control. The aroma filled the apartment, sharp and earthy, grounding. Steam curled in tight ribbons. He set a second cup on the table without asking.
Ryan took it, watching Cal for a beat. "You use this coffee thing to avoid eye contact or is that just a bonus?"
Cal smirked faintly. "Bit of both."
They drank in silence for a moment. Then Cal set his mug down and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his knuckles with his thumb.
"I don't know exactly how it works," he said finally. "The healing. It just… started."
Ryan looked up. "Haven't you tested it?"
"I've tested it plenty," Cal said. "Not by choice."
He flexed his right hand, watching the movement. "It's not just healing. I think something in me turned off—something that's supposed to stop you from going too far."
Ryan's brow furrowed. "Like what?"
"You ever hear how your brain limits your strength? Keeps your muscles from tearing themselves apart?"
"Yeah," Ryan said slowly. "Like moms lifting cars off their kids."
"Exactly. That limiter? Mine's gone. I can hit harder than I should be able to. But the damage still happens."
Cal tapped his fingers against the side of the mug. "I've broken my hand punching someone. Dislocated my shoulder pushing too hard. The healing keeps me going, but it doesn't stop me from getting wrecked in the first place."
Ryan let out a low whistle. "So your body's like… fully unlocked, but made of glass. Bet you wish you were the man of steel instead."
They sat in silence a little longer.
"Why the hell would you keep pushing if it hurts like that?"
Cal stared at the coffee for a long second. "Because I can, I guess."
Ryan shook his head, his expression still tense, but he didn't press any further. Instead, he grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV. "Alright, let's see what the news is saying about this. You can't just hit a warehouse full of drugs and not have it blow up in the media." He turned on NY1.
Cal leaned back on the couch, watching as Ryan flipped through the channels. For a moment, it seemed like nothing out of the ordinary was being reported—just the usual morning headlines. But then, Ryan paused as the words "Breaking News" flashed across the screen.
"There it is," Ryan muttered.
A local reporter stood in front of a large, run-down building, police cars and flashing lights filling the background. The headline at the bottom of the screen read, **Drug Warehouse Busted—Mystery Vigilante in Black Involved.**
Cal sat up, his eyes narrowing as the reporter spoke. "Authorities are investigating a warehouse in the industrial district, where a massive drug bust occurred late last night. Law enforcement sources say they discovered tens of thousands of dollars' worth of illicit drugs on-site, along with weapons. Eyewitnesses claim that a man dressed in black—believed to be the same individual seen in prior incidents—was involved. Video footage from inside the warehouse shows the man displaying what witnesses describe as 'inhuman feats.'"
Ryan shot a glance at Cal. "Inhuman feats, huh? Guess you really did make the news."
Cal watched the footage, a grainy clip showing him moving through the warehouse, his figure a blur as he took out armed men. The mask he wore kept his face hidden, but the rest of him—his movements, his strength—was unmistakable.
"Damn," Cal muttered.
The reporter continued. "Authorities are also investigating a connection to a medical transportation company, which has been linked to several questionable activities in the area. No suspects have been apprehended outside of the warehouse incident, but the investigation is ongoing."
Ryan muted the TV, shaking his head. "A transportation company, huh? Sounds like they're getting close."
Cal stood up, pacing the room. "Yeah, but it's not enough. We took down one warehouse, but this syndicate? They're still out there I'm sure of it."
Ryan nodded, his expression more serious now. "I figured as much. You might've dealt a blow, but this won't kill it. Not yet."
Cal sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I need to figure out what else is going on. I'll get you the computer tower later—maybe we can dig up something that'll help."
Ryan glanced at his phone, checking the time. "Yeah, let's do that. But for now, I gotta run to work, you get some more rest. You look like hell, man."
Cal offered a tired grin. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
Ryan smirked, heading for the door. "That's what I'm here for. I'll hit you up later."
As the door clicked shut behind him, Cal collapsed back onto the couch, exhaustion once again washing over him. The adrenaline from seeing the news had worn off, and now the weight of everything was crashing down again. But even with the pain, even with the fatigue, one thought lingered in his mind.
This wasn't over. Not even close.