Caleb rolled his shoulders back as the machine clicked behind him.
Adol didn't even look up from her tablet. She just pointed with her pen.
"Again."
He lifted his arms, stretched, bent, twisted. Every part of him felt stiff, like waking up after sleeping on concrete for a week. His joints cracked more than he wanted to admit.
"Keep going," she said, tapping her foot as she watched the numbers shift.
She slid another film into the X-ray panel.
"Hold still."
The machine hummed. Flash. She scribbled something down.
Then she moved on — throat check, pulse, reflexes, pupils, a cold stethoscope on his ribs that made him flinch.
Another blood sample. Another swab. Another scan.
"…You're definitely sick of this by now," she said lightly, though her eyes never stopped tracking readings.
"Little bit," Caleb said, trying a tired smile.
"Good. Means you're awake enough to complain."
When it was finally over, she pulled out a folded bundle of clothes from a drawer and handed it over.
"I figured you'd prefer your usual," she said. "Hoodie and trousers. Practical. Comfortable. Impossible to ruin—well, normally impossible, but you've always found a way."
Caleb snorted as he took them. "Thanks, Adol."
She also pushed a small lunchbox into his hands.
"And food to eat. Your blood sugar's trash."
By the time he changed and sat on the bed eating, she was already at the far table staring at his blood samples under a screen. Something on the display made her eyebrows climb.
"…Caleb" she said. "Come here a second."
He walked over, still chewing. She pointed at a cluster of pale, cloudy particles floating among his cells.
"You see this?" she asked.
He squinted. "Looks like someone spilled milk in my blood."
She zoomed in.
"These white patches — that's what I removed earlier. It's still in the rest of your bloodstream."
Caleb's chewing slowed.
A memory flashed through his head.
The syringe.
The stabbing pain in his neck.
The painful pull he felt across his insides.
"Something else will die in you."
His stomach tightened.
"…That stuff. That's what he injected. What he was pulling out of me…"
Adol nodded. "It's not poison. Not in the usual sense. It's… isolators."
Caleb blinked. "Isolators?"
She switched the screen again. "Your healing factor, like any super power, comes from S-cells — specialized cells that regulate your regenerative ability. These white things attach to them like glue. Surround them.
Once an S-cell is isolated, it can't build, connect, or replicate."
"So they're… shutting them down?"
she corrected. "Not dead. Not destroyed. But locked away. Completely separated."
Caleb swallowed his food in silence.
"So… when they injected me… and they told me to survive… they were forcing me to use the healing factor so the drug could latch onto it?"
"Exactly," she said. "They needed you to activate it so the isolators had something to bind to."
Caleb stared at the screen, suddenly full of quiet anger.
"…Sick bastards."
Adol leaned back, exhaling slowly.
"Honestly? Yeah."
He hesitated.
"…Can anything be done about it?"
She tapped her finger against her lips, thinking.
"Well… by the looks of it? If they'd finished the process, the isolators would've ripped out your S-cells and taken them with the extraction. You'd be powerless. Permanently."
Caleb stiffened.
"But," she continued, raising a finger, "since the procedure wasn't finished — because, you know, everything exploded and you refused to stay dead — the isolators are still in you. Floating. Not extracted."
She zoomed in again, muttering under her breath —
"Bond irregularity… incomplete separation… potential molecular degradation…"
— before stopping herself and glancing at him.
"Which means," she said, returning to her normal voice, "reversing it is possible. Complicated. Annoying. Probably involving a lot of pain. But possible."
Caleb blinked. "In English?"
She smiled.
"In English: leave the science to me."
He exhaled. "…Right."
She looked at his lunchbox. "How's the food?"
"Good," he said with his mouth still half-full. "Thanks for… everything."
Adol waved him off, but her expression softened.
"Oh — and finish eating. Gold Eye's coming to pick you up."
Caleb paused mid-bite.
"He'll explain the whole 'new Baywatch' situation," she said. "Since thats his area of expertise.."
She ruffled his hair once — annoying, familiar, comforting — then returned to her screens.
That's when infirmary door hissed open.
Adol didn't even turn fully; she just smirked at her monitor.
"Speak of the devil."
Gold Eye stepped inside with the same quiet weight he always carried His gaze swept the room once, landing on Caleb.
"How's the kid doing?" he asked, voice low but steady.
She tapped the last line on her tablet, then crossed her arms.
"He's all right. All vitals optimized, no internal alarms, no unexpected spikes. Physically cleared and officially discharged."
Gold Eye gave a small grunt — approval, amusement, or both. He stepped closer, giving Caleb a once-over that was half mentor, half someone checking whether a machine part had been welded wrong.
"You look steadier on your feet," he said.
"Feels that way," Caleb answered, tugging his sleeve down.
Gold Eye nodded once, satisfied, and jerked his head toward the door.
"Come on then, Walk with me."
They stepped out of the infirmary into a wide steel corridor, the lights humming faintly overhead. Caleb's steps were slow at first — his body still reacclimating — but steady.
Gold Eye folded his hands behind his back as they walked.
"So," he said casually. "Heard from Adol you lost the healing factor."
Caleb kept his eyes ahead. "Yeah."
"Feels strange?"
"That's one word."
Gold Eye gave a low hum. Something between acknowledgement and challenge.
They stopped at the elevator. Gold Eye tapped the call button, then glanced sideways.
"So then," he said, voice calm but pointed. "What will you be doing now?"
Caleb blinked once. "What do you mean?"
The elevator opened, and Gold Eye stepped inside. Caleb followed.
As the doors shut, Gold Eye finally turned his head, gold irises catching the dim light.
"You certainly can't be doing anything reckless without your power," he said. "Not with a body that bleeds and stays bled."
The elevator hummed quietly as it ascended, metal walls reflecting their faint silhouettes.
"Adol did say it may not be permanent"
Caleb let the silence sit for a bit, then said,
"But I know what you're trying to say. I know I'm not invincible anymore. Maybe I never was. But even if my healing factor never comes back— even if I stay like this forever… as long as I can still form thoughts, then the only thing in my mind will be him."
Gold Eye's eyes shifted toward him, gold irises glowing faintly.
"Him," he echoed. "White Face."
Caleb nodded once, jaw locked.
Gold Eye tilted his chin slightly.
"And that's all there is?"
Caleb blinked. "…What do you mean 'all'?"
Gold Eye didn't answer immediately. His gaze stayed leveled, calm and heavy.
"Avenging your father," he said, voice low. "I understand that drive more than you think. But is that all you've built yourself around?"
Caleb frowned. "…Why are you asking me that?"
"Because," Gold Eye said, "if that's the only thing holding you upright, then when you finally find White Face— or if you lose again— there'll be nothing left to keep you standing."
Caleb opened his mouth— but the elevator chimed.
Ding.
The doors slid apart, revealing a long hallway. Clean. Bright. The floors polished. The walls newly reinforced. The place looked… revitalized.
Caleb stepped out beside Gold Eye, eyes trailing across the corridor.
"What do you think" Gold Eye said walking forward at a calm pace
Caleb swallowed. "Feels… strange."
"Get used to it," Gold Eye said. "This is the new Baywatch."
They passed several rooms — training chambers, briefing doors, storage bays. Caleb glanced at each but didn't linger.
Then Gold Eye slowed.
Caleb noticed immediately.
They stood before a door that didn't match the rest.
Old. Untouched. Dust collecting along the edges. The metal slightly discolored. The only door in the hall that hadn't been polished or repaired.
Caleb's breath hitched.
"…This is…"
Gold Eye nodded once.
"Just like he left it"
The air felt heavier.
Gold Eye stepped aside, leaving the space in front of the door open.
"Go on," he said quietly. "It's yours to open."
Caleb reached out. His fingers hovered over the handle. For a second, he wasn't sure if he would touch it at all — as if opening it meant admitting something final.
But then he wrapped his hand around the cold metal and pushed.
The door creaked softly.
Dust drifted through the faint light as the room revealed itself.
It wasn't large. Or grand. Or anything heroic.
It was simple. Functional. Him.
A worn bed in the corner.
A small metal desk covered in old notes and empty coffee tins.
A cracked screen on the wall.
A jacket hung over a chair — the kind Caleb remembered him wearing when he came back from missions.
A pair of boots by the door, still standing exactly where he'd last left them.
Gold Eye didn't follow.
He stood in the doorway, arms crossed loosely.
Caleb stepped in farther, the floor groaning under his weight as if protesting being disturbed after so long. He moved slowly, almost reverently, eyes trailing over every familiar shape frozen in dust.
Gold Eye remained at the threshold, a single figure framed by the hallway light.
He exhaled once — quiet, steady.
"This room…" His voice was low, like it didn't want to ripple the air too much. " I couldn't bring myself to come inside."
Caleb turned, surprise softening his brow.
Gold Eye kept his gaze forward, not on the room — on nothing.
"I tried," he said. "The night we buried him. I walked all the way here. Put my hand on the handle."
A pause.
"But I couldn't open the door. Couldn't even breathe right while standing here."
Caleb said nothing. The silence felt like it belonged.
Gold Eye finally stepped one foot inside, as if daring the ghosts to stop him.
"This place isn't just where he slept," he continued quietly. "It's where he came back after every mission. Where he kept this team together. Where he told me everything he couldn't tell the others."
His jaw tightened.
"It reminded me of what I failed to do. As a hero. His teammate."
He swallowed once.
"as his friend"
Caleb's throat went dry.
Gold Eye walked in fully now, each step slow and deliberate. His eyes drifted across the cracked screen, the abandoned boots, the jacket still slung over the chair.
"When Thomas fell," he said softly, "Baylight didn't just lose Suicide Man. It lost the Baywatch. Lost its spine. And I… I wanted to do the same thing you want now."
He looked up.
"Find White Face. Tear out everything he ever cared about. End every piece of him."
Caleb's fingers curled slightly.
Gold Eye nodded — not in approval, but in remembrance.
"I almost joined you on your crusade. The night you escaped the left… I was one breath away from marching with you until we found him."
His voice grew firmer.
"But that is not what Thomas would have wanted. Not for me. And not for you."
Caleb turned his eyes away, jaw working.
Gold Eye gestured faintly around the room.
"Your father died protecting this city. Protecting people who will never know his name beyond headlines. If I let the Baywatch die with him, if I let the city fall apart because we all chased revenge—"
He shook his head slowly.
"—then his sacrifice meant nothing."
The words settled like dust onto the room's untouched surfaces.
Caleb looked toward the desk. A small frame sat among the papers. Its glass was smudged with age, the image inside dimmed by dust.
He reached for it with trembling fingers.
He wiped the surface slowly with his sleeve.
A picture came through —
A younger Caleb sitting on his father's shoulders, both laughing, hair messed by wind, eyes bright with a world that felt simple and possible.
Caleb's breath shuddered.
Gold Eye watched him, expression unreadable but softer than usual.
"That's why I rebuilt the team," he said. "Because anger can start a fire, but it can't keep a city standing. And your father…."
Gold Eye's voice dropped.
"He always wanted you to stand. Not where he fell. But where he stood."
Caleb held the photo tighter. Too tight.
"I never… wanted to replace him," Caleb murmured. His voice cracked at the edges. "I just wanted to stand beside him. Just once. As equals. As… father and son."
Gold Eye nodded slowly.
"You won't replace him," he said. "No one can. And I won't ask you to."
He stepped closer.
"But you can fill the space he left behind. Not by becoming him—"
His eyes shone faintly.
"—but by becoming what he believed you could be."
Caleb stayed quiet for a long moment. Gold Eye's words — fill the space he left behind — hovered in the dusty air like something almost too heavy to hold.
"…I don't know if I can," Caleb admitted finally. His voice was small but honest. "I don't know if I'm… enough."
Gold Eye didn't flinch. He'd heard that confession a hundred different ways from a hundred broken people.
But from Caleb, it mattered differently.
"You don't have to know," he said. "Certainty is a luxury. Trying is a choice."
Caleb swallowed, gaze drifting over the shelves, the old coat rack, the stacked training pads his father used to toss around like nothing. Everything here felt too big and too still.
"But I'm willing to try," Caleb said at last. ".....thats the least i can do for making you worry all this time."
Gold Eye's eyes softened — a shift so subtle no one else would've caught it.
"That," he murmured, "is enough for now."
Caleb nodded once, breathing out. He set the picture gently on the desk and let his fingers ghost over the old scuffs in the wood, the small scratches, the dents his father made absentmindedly while planning missions.
He touched the back of the chair — still slightly tilted from Suicide Man's terrible sitting posture.
He took one slow breath of the room's stale air, letting the weight settle and settle… until it finally stopped crushing.
Then he stepped out.
Gold Eye was waiting in the hall, arms folded.
Caleb met his gaze and nodded once — not confidently, but with intention.
Gold Eye returned the nod… then reached behind him.
"I almost forgot," he said, and presented something wrapped in a black cloth. "These belong to you."
Caleb blinked — then unwrapped them.
The twin Black Bone staffs gleamed faintly, polished, repaired, edges refined. They looked exactly as his father had crafted them… just reborn.
His breath caught.
"I had them cleaned, re-honed. They are a part of your powers as much as your healing factor was."
Caleb ran his thumb along the grain of the weapon, a smile tugging uninvited at the corner of his mouth.
"Feels like coming home."
"Good," Gold Eye said. "You're going to need that feeling."
They began walking down the corridor — the polished floors reflecting the overhead lights. Compared to the dusty room they left behind, the hallway felt alive, purposeful.
"About this 'new Baywatch' thing," Caleb said as they walked. "I'm… guessing that's why you dragged me here."
"Dragged is dramatic," Gold Eye replied. "I prefer: guided the reckless, half-crippled boy to a new beginning."
Caleb snorted.
Gold Eye continued, hands behind his back.
"They're strangers to you," he said. "That's fair. But you're not a stranger to them."
Caleb frowned. "I suppose you spoke about me alot""
"That's a part of it. But they also were the ones who saved you"
Gold Eye glanced down the hall toward the training wing.
"White Face would've killed you if they hadn't interfered. And in the months you were out… they were the ones who checked on you. Watched over you."
Caleb blinked, caught off guard.
"I didn't know."
"You weren't conscious enough to know," Gold Eye replied. "But they were. They saw a kid who wouldn't quit. A kid who stood against a monster even adults ran from."
He paused.
"And they decided someone like that… might be worth standing with."
The words hung between them, steady and quiet.
Caleb held his staffs a little tighter.
"This will be a great change of air for you," Gold Eye said. "A place to grow. A place that isn't built out of grief."
He stopped at another elevator, turning to Caleb.
"And maybe a place where you can figure out who you are — other than the boy chasing a dead man's ghost."
Caleb didn't answer right away.
But his grip on the staffs, his posture, the glimmer in his eyes said enough.
He finally exhaled.
"…Then let's meet them."