Chapter 56 Batman's Form
Ryan's wrist twisted sideways under the sudden counterforce.
The angle was wrong.
Completely wrong.
Instead of resisting directly, Lynn's strike redirected the entire momentum of Ryan's thrusting arm.
The elbow disengaged instantly.
Muscle coordination collapsed.
The knife flew from Ryan's grasp.
At the same moment—
Lynn's left knee drove upward into Ryan's abdomen.
Force output:
Approximately forty percent.
The combined amplification from Captain America's Super-Soldier Physiology and Jessica Jones's strength produced terrifying impact power even under restraint.
The carbon-fiber armor hidden beneath Ryan's hoodie cracked immediately.
Then shattered.
Ryan's body launched backward across the workshop.
Distance:
Roughly three meters.
He crashed directly through a plasterboard partition wall.
Dust and fragments exploded outward.
Then—
Impact against a steel support frame behind the wall.
The metal groaned deeply and bent inward from the collision.
Ryan slid down into the rubble on one knee.
Blood spilled slowly from the corner of his mouth.
Fragments of broken armor fell from beneath the hoodie and scattered softly across the floor.
At least three fractured ribs.
Possibly four.
Ryan could feel every breath scraping painfully through his chest.
He looked upward.
Lynn stood three meters away.
Breathing stable.
Posture relaxed.
Several white marks from the carbon-fiber blades remained visible across the black shirt.
But the skin underneath was completely unharmed.
The faint moonlight reflecting against the gold-rimmed glasses made the scene strangely unreal.
"You're not an ordinary doctor," Ryan said quietly.
Every word carried visible pain.
"I am."
"Ordinary doctors don't stop carbon-fiber blades with bare hands."
"My clinic treats many conditions," Lynn replied calmly.
"Including my own."
Ryan tried to rise again.
His left hand moved subtly toward the final throwing needle hidden behind the waist.
Lynn stepped forward instantly.
His right hand closed around Ryan's wrist.
The grip strength was overwhelming.
Ryan felt as though his arm had been locked inside industrial machinery.
The throwing needle slipped from numb fingers and clattered onto the concrete floor.
"Don't bother."
Lynn crouched slightly and looked directly into Ryan's eyes.
Analysis of All Things scanned the assassin's entire body structure again.
No embedded explosives.
No suicide implant systems.
Unlike The Hand's operatives.
Fisk's assassins preferred survival.
"I have several questions," Lynn said.
"Your heartbeat will tell me whether you lie."
Ryan stared at him silently for three seconds.
Then laughed once.
Blood at the corner of his mouth made the smile look rough and exhausted.
"Go ahead."
"What exactly did Kingpin order you to do?"
"Kill you."
Ryan coughed once.
"Or cripple you badly enough that you couldn't continue practicing medicine."
Heart rate stable.
Truth.
"How many Shadow Raven safe houses exist?"
"Two."
Ryan leaned more heavily against the bent steel frame.
"One in Red Hook. Converted warehouse."
"The second behind a laundromat in Queens."
Slight heartbeat fluctuation.
Not deception.
Hesitation.
He knew additional details but chose not to elaborate.
"How much do you know about Fisk's primary financial routes in New York?"
Ryan paused briefly.
"Three major ones."
"First—money laundering through Fisk Construction real-estate projects."
"Second—gray-money movement through Coleman's campaign-finance channels."
A short breath.
"But you already destroyed that route."
"The third is shipping."
"Fisk controls a container company operating out of Red Hook Terminal."
"Officially import-export logistics."
Heart rate remained consistent.
All true.
The intelligence value exceeded the outcome of the fight itself.
Lynn stood up.
Then removed the phone from his pocket and typed three separate messages rapidly.
First message:
To Nick Fury.
Contents:
The two Shadow Raven safe-house addresses.
Second message:
To Daredevil's law office.
Contents:
Core financial details regarding Fisk-controlled laundering operations.
Third message:
To a disposable number belonging to The Punisher.
Contents:
The name and location of the Red Hook shipping company.
Three operational vectors.
Activated simultaneously.
Ryan watched quietly from the rubble.
"You sent the information to multiple people at once."
His voice had grown rougher.
"You're attacking from three directions simultaneously."
Lynn did not answer.
Instead—
He dialed emergency services anonymously.
"There's an injured individual inside the abandoned textile factory west of 125th Street."
"Send an ambulance."
The call ended.
Lynn placed the phone back into his pocket and turned toward the factory exit.
"Wait."
Ryan's voice echoed from behind him.
Lynn stopped and turned slightly.
Ryan remained leaning against the bent steel frame.
Broken armor pieces scattered around his feet.
Dust and blood covered most of his face.
But his eyes remained clear.
"Who are you?" Ryan asked quietly.
Lynn adjusted the glasses once.
"A doctor."
Then he walked through the rusted factory doors and disappeared into the early-morning darkness.
…
Batcave.
Bruce Wayne had remained seated before the monitors for over three hours when Alfred Pennyworth replaced the cold tea beside him with a reheated cup.
The massive display screen was divided into two sections.
Left side—
Lynn's complete investigation profile.
Right side—
A comparison matrix Bruce had spent nearly an entire day constructing.
The left column contained every abnormal ability Lynn had displayed publicly.
The right column listed the corresponding enhanced individuals Lynn had treated.
Tactical anticipation and deductive combat behavior.
→ Corresponding subject: Batman.
Extreme auditory sensitivity.
→ Corresponding subject: Daredevil.
Abnormally accelerated recovery.
→ Corresponding subject: The Punisher.
Near-invulnerable skin.
→ Corresponding subject: Luke Cage.
Superhuman strength.
→ Corresponding subject: Jessica Jones.
Professional combat conditioning.
→ Corresponding subject: Black Widow.
Advanced engineering cognition.
→ Corresponding subject: Iron Man.
Enhanced speed, endurance, and physical optimization.
→ Corresponding subject: Captain America.
The correlation percentage between both columns approached total alignment.
Bruce had stared at the chart for nearly an hour.
"This is the fourth time tonight, sir," Alfred said gently.
"I know."
Bruce rested one hand against his chin.
Eyes unmoving from the screen.
Eight observable ability categories.
Eight corresponding treatment subjects.
And every ability appeared only after the relevant treatment event occurred.
No exceptions.
"He acquires something during treatment," Bruce said finally.
Alfred remained silent.
"I considered other possibilities," Bruce continued quietly.
"That he always possessed these abilities and concealed them."
"Or that he obtained powers independently from unrelated sources."
He shook his head slightly.
"Neither explanation resolves the sequencing problem."
"What sequencing problem?" Alfred asked.
"The order."
Bruce tapped the display lightly.
"If he already possessed these abilities, there's no logical reason they would emerge precisely in the same order as the patients he treated."
"And if he gained them elsewhere…"
Bruce's gaze hardened slightly.
"The probability of repeatedly obtaining abilities perfectly matching each treated superhuman is statistically absurd."
Silence settled across the Batcave.
Then Bruce finally spoke the conclusion aloud.
"The act of healing itself is the trigger condition."
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