MARVEL/DC: DOCTOR IN THE MULTIVERSE

"This strike angle—forty-seven degrees."

Bruce Wayne slowed the footage frame by frame.

"The target was the carotid sinus."

His voice echoed softly through the vast darkness of the Batcave.

"This isn't conventional martial arts."

"It's surgical incapacitation."

He enlarged the frame further.

"A precise strike exploiting a physiological weakness."

"Single impact. Immediate loss of consciousness."

"Minimal wasted movement."

Another sequence appeared on the screen.

Grey Falcon's thrust.

Lynn intercepting it with the stainless-steel surgical tray.

Clang.

The sparks from the collision illuminated Lynn's unmoving gold-rimmed glasses for less than half a second.

Bruce froze the image.

"Blocked."

He repeated the word quietly.

He recognized the attack pattern immediately.

The knife sequence belonged to a combat system heavily derived from Bullseye's close-quarters methodology.

Erratic trajectory transitions.

Reverse-grip feints.

Kill-angle suppression.

An ordinary fighter wouldn't even perceive the second strike before impact.

But Lynn not only blocked it—

He redirected the recoil force from Grey Falcon's own movement to counterattack immediately.

The tray flipped upward.

Grey Falcon leaned back instinctively.

Opening created:

Approximately 0.3 seconds.

Bruce's fingers moved across the console.

A note appeared beside the footage.

"Predictive anticipation."

"Subject did not rely purely on reaction speed."

"He interpreted intent before execution."

Another pause.

"This tactical pattern resembles my own engagement methodology against multiple opponents."

That realization unsettled him.

Bruce Wayne's combat instincts were not teachable in any ordinary sense.

They had been forged through years of training under masters like Ra's al Ghul and relentless real-world combat against Gotham's deadliest criminals.

Psychology.

Biomechanics.

Probability.

Environmental manipulation.

All fused into instinct.

So how had a twenty-two-year-old clinic doctor replicated similar combat logic?

Then Bruce replayed the final exchange.

Lynn's punch striking Grey Falcon's elbow joint.

The drone footage captured something subtle afterward.

A faint spiderweb crack spreading across the clinic wall behind the assassin.

Bruce enlarged the damaged section repeatedly.

The Batcomputer processed material density and fracture propagation instantly.

Concrete composition.

Wall thickness.

Impact-vector spread.

A numerical result appeared.

Estimated peak impact force:

Exceeding 800 pounds.

Bruce stared silently at the number.

Average adult striking force—

Roughly 150 pounds.

Elite heavyweight boxers under full commitment—

Potentially approaching 1,000 pounds.

But Lynn's strike had not been a full-force attack.

It had been a compact joint-targeting punch delivered during fluid close-quarters combat.

Not a maximum-output blow.

Which meant—

His actual upper limit was substantially higher.

Bruce leaned back slightly in the chair.

Closed his eyes.

Then his mental timeline began aligning.

Two months ago—

Lynn healed The Punisher.

One and a half months ago—

Luke Cage.

One month ago—

Jessica Jones.

Three weeks ago—

Black Widow.

One week ago—

Captain America.

Bruce opened the classified investigation file he had built personally around Lynn.

Then he compared the patient timeline against the observed evolution of Lynn's capabilities.

And slowly—

A horrifyingly consistent hypothesis emerged.

Lynn's predictive combat behavior resembled Bruce's own tactical methodology.

His precise nerve strikes mirrored Natasha Romanoff's combat conditioning.

His raw force output resembled Jessica Jones.

His enhanced resilience and physical conditioning aligned with the effects of the Super-Soldier Serum.

The pattern became impossible to ignore.

Bruce finally spoke the conclusion aloud.

Quietly.

Almost unwillingly.

"His growth is tied to the people he treats."

The moment the thought surfaced—

Everything connected.

Why Lynn continuously interacted with enhanced individuals.

Why impossible treatment methods appeared repeatedly.

Why his combat ability evolved at abnormal speed.

The patients were not merely patients.

They were sources.

Bruce looked again at the screen showing Lynn calmly restoring the clinic after the battle.

No panic.

No mistakes.

No emotional instability.

A man silently collecting the abilities of superhumans through medicine itself.

For the first time since this investigation began—

Bruce Wayne felt genuine unease.

"Alfred."

He activated the communicator.

"Yes, sir."

Alfred Pennyworth's calm voice carried through the cave speakers.

"Compile a complete timeline of every confirmed patient Lynn has treated."

"Public records, intelligence reports, surveillance logs."

"Everyone."

"Yes, sir."

A pause.

"Should I cross-reference emerging ability patterns as well?"

Bruce's eyes remained fixed on the screen.

"Yes."

Several seconds passed before Alfred spoke again.

More carefully this time.

"Sir… if I may."

Bruce didn't respond immediately.

"Have you considered simply asking him directly?"

"As a friend."

"Perhaps the situation isn't as dangerous as it appears."

"No."

Bruce interrupted quietly.

"Any direct confrontation before he chooses transparency himself only increases distrust."

His gaze hardened slightly.

"Until I fully understand his motives and the upper limits of his abilities…"

"Observation remains more valuable than conversation."

Silence returned to the Batcave.

The darkness around the giant monitors felt heavier than before.

…

S.H.I.E.L.D. Sector Three Base.

4:17 a.m.

Two reports rested on Nick Fury's desk.

The first—

A field report from an informant operating in Hell's Kitchen.

The second—

An overnight threat-assessment document compiled by the S.H.I.E.L.D. analysis division.

Fury picked up the field report first.

The summary remained concise.

At approximately 3:00 a.m., multiple unconscious individuals had been loaded into a dark-colored van near Miracle Clinic.

Estimated count:

At least four.

The vehicle's license plate proved fraudulent.

But the informant managed to photograph a partially visible insignia attached near the rear bumper.

Fury's remaining eye narrowed slightly as he examined the image.

Visit /ShiroTL for more chapters.