MARVEL/DC: DOCTOR IN THE MULTIVERSE

A crisp doorbell suddenly echoed from upstairs.

The sound interrupted Lynn's thoughts instantly.

His brows narrowed slightly.

The clinic entrance clearly displayed a sign reading:

Closed Indefinitely

And it was nearly four in the morning.

Ordinary patients would never arrive at this hour.

Battlefield Domain expanded upward automatically.

Instantly—

Every surveillance feed inside and outside Miracle Clinic appeared within Lynn's mind simultaneously.

At the clinic entrance stood a bald middle-aged man wearing an expensive tailored suit.

Slightly overweight.

Holding a snake-headed cane embedded with green gemstones.

Smiling gently.

As though the closed sign simply did not exist—

The man reached forward and pushed against the locked clinic door casually.

Click.

The specially reinforced alloy lock—

Strong enough to resist submachine-gun bursts—

Snapped apart effortlessly like fragile plastic.

Then the bald man entered the clinic calmly.

Uninvited.

Lynn's eyes immediately turned cold.

Battlefield Domain locked onto the intruder completely.

Heart rate.

Breathing rhythm.

Muscle tension.

Blood-flow fluctuations.

Every biological signal indicated the same conclusion:

Ordinary human.

Weak physique.

No metahuman enhancement.

Yet—

This man generated a danger instinct even stronger than Bane or the Destroyer ever had.

Because Analysis of All Things had already identified the true source of danger.

Not physical strength.

Intelligence.

A brain standing at the absolute peak of human civilization.

Comparable to Batman himself.

Lex Luthor.

The uncrowned king of Metropolis.

Superman's greatest human enemy.

…

Rain from the previous night still left the New York air damp and cold.

Inside Miracle Clinic—

Lynn sat calmly behind the reception desk after storing away the black chip containing Justice League-level classified information.

The bald man walked slowly through the clinic.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

The snake-headed cane struck the floor rhythmically.

Every step measured.

Every movement controlled.

A warm and cultured smile rested across his face naturally.

But beneath that smile—

His eyes continuously analyzed everything inside the clinic like a scanning machine.

"Dr. Lynn."

The man's voice sounded magnetic and refined.

"My name is Alexander Joseph."

"A businessman from Metropolis."

"I've heard you perform miracles."

Lynn didn't stand.

Didn't greet him.

He merely observed the visitor quietly.

"Mr. Joseph."

His tone remained flat.

"It's four in the morning."

"My clinic is closed."

"And the sign on the door was not decorative."

"Oh?"

The bald man smiled apologetically.

"My illness is rather urgent."

"Doctors across America have already given up."

"They estimate I have less than six months remaining."

"You are my final hope."

While speaking—

He walked directly toward the examination chair and sat down naturally.

Like someone entering his own office.

"Fortunately," he continued pleasantly,

"money is not a problem for me."

The green gemstone inside the snake cane reflected faint light eerily beneath the dim clinic lamps.

Lynn's gaze never left him.

Because under Analysis of All Things—

Everything about this man had already been dissected completely.

The gentle smile?

Artificially trained muscular-behavior simulation.

Perfectly imitating natural emotional expression through micro-control techniques derived partially from stolen Wayne Enterprises behavioral research patents.

The cane?

Not decorative.

Inside the shaft hid a miniature pulse transmitter manufactured through covert cooperation with Oscorp black-market technology channels.

Emergency signal capability.

Long-range encrypted communication.

Potential remote weapon activation.

Meanwhile—

Inside the lining of the expensive suit—

A microscopic pharmaceutical pump continuously released beta blockers into the bloodstream.

Purpose:

Suppress abnormal heartbeat fluctuations caused by emotional stimulation or tension.

This was not a patient entering a clinic.

This was a strategist entering hostile territory fully armed.

But none of those details mattered most.

The truly important moment occurred when Universal Diagnosis swept across the man's body completely.

A violent sensation of radioactive decay stabbed into Lynn's senses instantly.

Even he felt faint pain.

Then the system interface appeared.

[Automatic Diagnosis Initiated—]

[Patient: Lex Luthor]

[Disguised Identity: Alexander Joseph]

[Condition Assessment:]

[1. Systemic Radioactive Cellular Collapse.]

[Cause: Long-term close-range exposure to high-purity kryptonite radiation.]

[Extensive irreversible genetic-chain destruction throughout the body.]

[2. Hematopoietic Necrosis.]

[Bone marrow failure exceeding 92%.]

[Massive proliferation of radiation-mutated cancer cells.]

[3. Multi-Organ Failure.]

[Advanced fibrosis and necrosis detected within lungs, liver, kidneys, and cardiovascular system.]

[Overall Fatality Probability: 99.9%]

[Estimated Remaining Lifespan: 179 Days, 6 Hours]

Lynn slowly adjusted the gold-rimmed glasses.

His gaze behind the lenses became cold and deep like frozen seawater.

Lex Luthor.

One of the most dangerous minds on Earth.

And someone who absolutely never performed meaningless actions.

Within less than one second—

Lynn completed full behavioral analysis internally.

First objective:

Medical treatment.

The kryptonite-induced genetic collapse truly could not be cured through conventional medicine.

Luthor genuinely required help.

Second objective:

Verification.

Superman had nearly died from kryptonite exposure.

Then somehow recovered fully after entering contact with an unknown doctor.

Luthor would naturally investigate personally.

Third objective—

And most important—

Acquisition.

The moment Luthor confirmed Lynn could neutralize kryptonite damage and restore Kryptonian physiology—

The "doctor" would instantly transform inside Luthor's mind into something far more valuable:

A strategic biological resource.

A living technological anomaly.

A specimen more valuable than the Tesseract.

And eventually—

Something suitable for dissection inside a laboratory.

A perfect three-layer strategy.

Unfortunately for Lex Luthor—

The person sitting across from him was Lynn.

"Mr. Joseph."

Lynn stood slowly from behind the desk.

Then calmly put on a fresh pair of sterile gloves.

His tone suddenly resembled that of a genuinely caring physician.

"You do appear extremely ill."

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