Chapter 8 – Batman’s Brain Works Really Well
The Greyhound bus left Gotham before sunrise, merging onto the New Jersey Turnpike and heading south toward New York.
At 5 a.m., the bus was nearly empty.
Lynn sat in the last row by the window, backpack at his feet, watching the industrial skyline slide past in muted gray tones.
He didn't rest.
From the moment he boarded, his mind had been operating at full capacity.
Using Leo's spare phone, he connected to the onboard Wi-Fi and began his first structured information sweep since arriving in this world.
First priority—
Medical licensing.
Practicing in New York required certification. Non-negotiable.
He accessed the full regulatory framework of the New York State medical licensing system—application pathways, processing timelines, precedent approvals from the last three years.
Under normal circumstances, this would take weeks to interpret.
For him—
Minutes.
His cognition processed each document rapidly, isolating patterns, exceptions, and institutional behaviors.
Three viable pathways emerged.
All legal.
All underutilized.
Combined, they reduced the licensing timeline to approximately two weeks.
Feasible.
Second—
Location.
He constructed a mental model of New York City.
Manhattan.
Brooklyn.
Queens.
The Bronx.
Each area layered with variables: population density, crime rate, income distribution, rental trends.
Then—
An additional factor.
Using criminology and behavioral analysis, he overlaid what he internally defined as a "superhuman activity index."
Where incidents occurred.
Where interventions happened.
Where injuries would follow.
The result—
Hell's Kitchen.
West Manhattan.
Midtown-adjacent.
Historically unstable.
Lower rent.
High incident frequency.
And—
Territory of Daredevil.
That mattered.
Where there were vigilantes—
There were injuries.
Where there were injuries—
There was demand.
He located a listing.
An abandoned clinic.
Edge of Hell's Kitchen.
Structurally intact.
Discreet.
Two floors.
Ground level—operational space.
Second floor—residential.
Acceptable.
Third—
Design.
While the bus continued south, Lynn completed a full renovation model internally.
Spatial layout.
Equipment placement.
Workflow efficiency.
A complete three-dimensional structure existed in his mind.
He calculated cost parameters simultaneously.
Total renovation budget—
Under $150,000.
Remaining capital—
Reserved for operation and contingency.
The bus arrived at Port Authority at 8:00 a.m.
New York was already active.
Traffic noise.
Voices.
Movement.
A stark contrast to Gotham's oppressive stillness.
He took a taxi directly to Hell's Kitchen.
The reality matched expectations—
Or slightly worse.
Damaged signage.
Graffiti-covered glass.
Structural neglect.
But—
The framework was intact.
Utilities—functional.
Space—adequate.
He called the landlord.
"Interested in the clinic on 49th Street."
Pause.
Recognition.
"That place? Been empty two years. Previous tenant disappeared owing rent. $4,500 monthly."
"$3,800."
Immediate pushback.
Lynn continued without raising his voice.
"West end of 49th. Borderline Class B commercial zone. Property value dropped twelve percent last year. Property tax increases accordingly. Vacancy cost—approximately six hundred per month. Two years empty indicates weak market acceptance at your current price."
A pause.
"$3,800. Annual payment. Contract today."
Five seconds.
"…Deal."
Lease signed before noon.
Renovation began the same day.
Finding contractors—
Easy.
Finding competent ones—
Not.
The first to arrive was Joe.
Mid-fifties.
Heavyset.
Unlit cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.
He walked the site with a younger engineer, then delivered a quote.
"$180,000. Full job."
Lynn didn't argue.
Instead—
He pointed.
"The drainage system—your quote assumes full replacement."
Joe nodded.
"It needs it."
"No," Lynn replied. "Primary east-side pipe is galvanized steel. Internal corrosion is minimal—under 0.3 millimeters. Usable lifespan—five more years."
He shifted slightly.
"Only the west-side joints and second-floor return line require replacement. Full replacement adds roughly twelve thousand in material cost with no functional gain."
Silence.
Joe looked at his engineer.
The engineer avoided eye contact.
Lynn continued.
"Electrical design—your plan routes second-floor lighting and first-floor operating equipment through the same main line."
A pause.
"Operating equipment requires at least eight kilowatts of reserve capacity. Shared load risks overload and breaker failure under simultaneous usage."
The engineer's face drained.
Missed.
Basic oversight.
Lynn adjusted his glasses.
Not aggressive.
Precise.
"Revise the quote. $120,000. Functional design. If not, I'll hire someone else."
Joe studied him for several seconds.
Then removed the cigarette from his mouth.
"…$120,000."
Agreement reached.
Work began.
Lynn visited daily.
Not to supervise—
To optimize.
Every suggestion was supported by calculation.
Load-bearing structures.
Pipe routing.
Material efficiency.
Often—
More accurate than the contractor's own plans.
The workers noticed.
Quietly.
"That kid running the clinic—he's got the whole building mapped in his head."
By the third day—
An incident occurred.