MARVEL/DC: DOCTOR IN THE MULTIVERSE

Alfred Pennyworth picked up the cup of tea again.

The liquid inside had already cooled slightly.

He took a small sip before speaking.

"If your deduction is correct, sir…"

"That would mean Dr. Lynn grows stronger every time he treats a superhuman individual."

"Yes," Bruce Wayne replied quietly.

"And where exactly would the limit of that growth be?"

Bruce did not answer.

Because he couldn't.

The theoretical implications were obvious.

If Lynn's development truly depended on healing enhanced individuals—

And if no observable restrictions existed—

Then his potential growth ceiling might not exist at all.

The stronger the patient.

The more abilities encountered.

The more Lynn evolved.

Bruce leaned back slightly in the Batcomputer chair.

Eyes still fixed on the comparison chart across the monitor.

The realization triggered two separate instincts simultaneously.

First—

The intellectual curiosity of the world's greatest detective confronting an unknown phenomenon.

Second—

The vigilance of Batman assessing a potentially catastrophic threat before it fully matured.

"Alfred."

"Yes, sir."

"I need to speak with him directly."

Alfred lowered the teacup carefully onto the console beside him.

"As Bruce Wayne…"

A slight pause.

"Or as Batman?"

"Batman."

Silence settled briefly across the Batcave.

Finally, Alfred spoke again.

"With respect, sir, Batman interrogating a collaborator regarding the source of his abilities could easily be interpreted as hostility."

"It won't be an interrogation."

Bruce closed the ability-comparison file on-screen.

"It'll be a conversation."

"I'll give him an opportunity to explain."

"If the explanation is logically consistent, I'll choose to accept it."

A brief pause.

"At least temporarily."

"And if the explanation proves insufficient?"

Bruce's expression remained unreadable in the dim light of the cave.

"Then I prepare further."

Alfred picked up the teacup again.

Then paused near the exit.

"Dr. Lynn is highly intelligent."

"If you identified the pattern, there's a strong probability he anticipated you eventually would."

"I know."

"In that case," Alfred continued calmly,

"this discussion won't truly be an investigation."

Bruce looked toward him slightly.

"It will be a contest between two intelligent men trying to determine how much truth the other is willing to accept."

Bruce did not deny it.

Alfred left the Batcave quietly.

Bruce remained alone in the darkness.

He already understood one important fact clearly:

Lynn would never reveal the complete truth.

But total truth wasn't necessary.

Bruce only needed an explanation that satisfied three conditions simultaneously:

Logically plausible.

Emotionally believable.

Strategically acceptable.

Enough to preserve cooperation between both sides.

Because one conclusion remained undeniable.

Lynn's value was immense.

A doctor capable of healing nearly anyone.

A man whose own abilities evolved through that healing process.

Someone like that becoming an ally mattered far more than discovering every secret immediately.

Bruce activated the communicator again.

"Alfred."

"Yes, sir?"

"Prepare an invitation."

"Wayne family stationery."

"Wax seal."

"The contents?"

Bruce thought silently for several seconds.

Then answered.

"One sentence."

I know you're growing. I want to know why. —B.W.

…

Miracle Clinic.

9:30 a.m.

Lynn had just finished aspirating synovial fluid from a taxi driver's swollen knee joint when the front bell rang.

He removed the gloves calmly and walked toward the reception area.

Standing beside the front desk—

An elderly man in a dark-gray tailored suit.

Silver-white hair.

Perfect posture.

Calm expression.

The silver cufflink on his left sleeve carried a small engraved "W."

Alfred Pennyworth.

"Mr. Pennyworth."

Lynn adjusted the gold-rimmed glasses slightly.

"You don't appear to be here for medical treatment."

"No."

Alfred smiled politely and placed an envelope onto the reception desk.

"Master Bruce requests the pleasure of your company in Gotham for a private discussion."

The envelope itself was expensive.

Cream-colored paper stock.

Dark-blue wax seal.

The Wayne family crest embossed cleanly into the center.

Lynn opened it immediately.

Inside—

Only a single card.

The handwriting was firm and controlled.

I know you're growing. I want to know why. —B.W.

Lynn looked at the sentence quietly.

Meanwhile—

Analysis of All Things had already begun dissecting every implication behind the wording.

"I know you're growing."

Meaning:

Bruce had already confirmed the pattern conclusively.

Not speculation.

Not suspicion.

Confirmation.

"I want to know why."

Important distinction.

Not:

Explain yourself.

Or:

I know what you are.

No accusation.

No direct threat.

Instead—

An invitation to provide an explanation voluntarily.

Which also implied something else.

If Lynn refused—

Batman would escalate into full investigative mode.

And Bruce Wayne's investigative capability ranked among the greatest on Earth.

Allowing Batman to uncover fragmented truths independently would be far more dangerous than controlling the explanation proactively.

Lynn looked up from the card.

"Tell Mr. Wayne I'll arrive the day after tomorrow."

Alfred nodded once.

"Master Bruce will be pleased."

"He won't remain pleased for very long."

Lynn slipped the card into his lab-coat pocket.

"He'll probably become more irritated after speaking with me."

The corner of Alfred's mouth twitched faintly.

Not quite a smile.

Then he turned and exited the clinic.

The door closed softly behind him.

Silence returned.

Lynn stood motionless behind the reception desk.

The gentleness usually present in his expression faded gradually.

Replaced by concentration.

He needed preparation.

Not to deceive Batman completely.

That was unrealistic.

Bruce Wayne was among the most difficult people in existence to fool directly.

The objective instead—

A controlled half-truth.

Enough reality to become believable.

Enough omission to conceal the system itself.

Analysis of All Things activated fully.

Potential explanation models unfolded rapidly.

Option A:

Complete denial.

I have no idea what you mean.

Everything comes from normal training and study.

Rejected instantly.

Bruce's evidence database was already too extensive.

Ordinary training could never explain the exact sequencing pattern between treated individuals and acquired abilities.

Option B:

Partial acknowledgment.

Core concealment.

Admit that interaction with powerful individuals accelerated growth—

But frame the mechanism as learning rather than copying.

This option stabilized immediately as the optimal solution.

Learning.

A psychologically acceptable concept for Bruce Wayne.

After all—

Bruce himself had spent years traveling the world learning from elite masters.

Combat.

Science.

Detection.

Psychology.

His entire life already reinforced the concept that proximity to exceptional individuals could produce exceptional growth.

The only abnormal factor would be Lynn's speed of adaptation.

But in a world filled with mutants, metahumans, gamma anomalies, and cosmic radiation—

Extreme talent remained the safest explanation available.

Option B confirmed.

Lynn removed a blank prescription sheet from the drawer.

Then began writing.

Potential questions.

Possible logical traps.

Behavioral pressure points.

Counter-responses.

Every likely conversational path Batman might attempt.

Three full pages.

Two days later—

He would enter Gotham City itself.

Batman's territory.

And sit face-to-face with one of the most intelligent and dangerous men alive.

If the conversation failed—

Batman's suspicion would intensify permanently.

But failure was not an acceptable outcome.

…

Wayne Manor.

Night.

A black sedan stopped beside the eastern gate of the estate.

Alfred exited first and opened the rear passenger door.

Lynn stepped out slowly.

Then paused.

The air smelled different from New York.

Colder.

Heavier.

More oppressive somehow.

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