MARVEL/DC: DOCTOR IN THE MULTIVERSE

The napkin was densely covered with equations.

Gene sequences.

Protein-folding structures.

Thermodynamic correction models.

Cellular repair pathways.

Every available centimeter of paper had been filled with precise calculations.

At the bottom, enclosed within a neat rectangular box, sat the final conclusion:

Perfect Extremis Thermodynamic Closed-Loop Repair Scheme v1.0

Lynn glanced at it one final time before handing it over.

"Maya Hansen's original plant-based algorithm is garbage."

His assessment was immediate.

Blunt.

Merciless.

"The cooling-valve architecture is missing three critical gene-regulation sequences."

Tony accepted the napkin.

Then stared at it.

Ten seconds.

Twenty.

Thirty.

His hand began trembling slightly.

Not from anger.

Not from fear.

But from understanding.

Tony Stark wasn't merely intelligent.

He was one of the greatest engineers on Earth.

He understood every symbol written on that paper.

Every equation.

Every correction.

Every implication.

Which was exactly why the sight disturbed him so much.

For over a decade, AIM had struggled with the same fatal flaw.

Countless test subjects had burned themselves alive.

Billions of dollars had been poured into research.

Entire laboratories had failed.

And yet this lunatic in a white coat had solved the problem using a disposable napkin and three minutes of thought.

Tony slowly lifted his head.

He looked at Lynn.

Opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

Still nothing came out.

Eventually, he managed to force out a sentence.

"You took three minutes."

"Hm."

Lynn's response was indifferent.

Tony stared at him.

"I spent two days analyzing the original proposal."

"I only figured out the first third."

Lynn shrugged.

"Then you need a better brain."

He turned and began walking toward the operating room.

Without even looking back, he added:

"Take the napkin."

"You can manufacture the antidote yourself."

Tony lowered his gaze toward the paper.

Then Lynn stopped at the operating-room entrance.

"Oh."

"There is a copyright fee."

Tony immediately narrowed his eyes.

Of course there was.

"What do you want?"

Lynn rested one hand on the door.

"The complete underlying patent architecture of Stark Industries' Arc Reactor."

Silence.

Tony's grip tightened around the napkin.

Giving away one of the foundational technological achievements of Stark Industries to a man who might genuinely be smarter than himself felt deeply uncomfortable.

Unfortunately...

The value of the napkin in his hand was impossible to ignore.

After several seconds, Tony exhaled.

"...Deal."

The napkin disappeared into his pocket.

Lynn nodded once.

Then pushed open the operating-room door and disappeared inside.

Leaving Tony standing alone outside.

The operating-room lights illuminated.

Happy remained unconscious on the table.

Although the cryogenic stabilization solution had temporarily suppressed the Extremis infection, the battle occurring inside his body had never stopped.

The virus continued attempting to rewrite cellular thermoregulation.

The cryogenic compound continued forcing body temperature downward.

Neither side could maintain the struggle forever.

The stabilizing solution would lose effectiveness in approximately two hours.

After that, the virus would resume uncontrolled expansion.

Lynn had exactly two hours to eliminate every remaining trace of Extremis.

He began with the external injuries.

The collapsed lung required immediate drainage.

A chest tube was inserted.

The thermally coagulated liver tissue needed surgical removal.

Using a plasma scalpel, Lynn carefully excised every necrotic section while preserving healthy tissue beneath.

Then came the burns.

Third-degree burns covering most of the right side of the body.

Debridement.

Tissue preparation.

Infection prevention.

Cellular stabilization.

For Lynn, these procedures were routine.

His perfect muscular control allowed every movement to occur with microscopic precision.

Meanwhile, the All-Seeing Eye continuously supplied real-time anatomical data.

Blood flow.

Cellular integrity.

Tissue stress.

Even suture tension.

Everything was measured and corrected in real time.

Twenty minutes later, the external injuries had been stabilized.

Then came the difficult part.

The virus.

Current infection rate:

11%.

Approximately eleven percent of Happy's cells had already undergone thermoregulatory rewriting.

The infected cells were scattered throughout every major organ system.

Ordinary antiviral drugs couldn't distinguish infected cells from healthy ones.

Lynn could.

He opened an instrument cabinet.

Inside sat a custom-built nanoscale targeted injector.

A device designed specifically for precision gene therapy.

The repair solution contained within it had been formulated using the correction equations he had developed only minutes earlier.

At its core were active biological factors derived from Lynn's own cellular samples.

The injector entered Happy's vein.

The solution flowed into his bloodstream.

Immediately, billions of nanoscale repair agents began moving through the body.

Unlike conventional medication, these agents actively identified Extremis-modified cells.

Once found, they corrected the damaged genetic sequences directly.

The treatment began.

Lynn placed both hands lightly against Happy's chest.

Not because the contact was necessary.

Because it provided the most efficient monitoring position for the All-Seeing Eye.

Countless streams of data unfolded before him.

The infection rate started falling.

11%.

10.4%.

9.7%.

8.1%.

The decline continued steadily.

Forty minutes later, the process was complete.

The final infected cell had been repaired.

The final viral sequence had been erased.

The final thermoregulatory abnormality had vanished.

Happy's core temperature stabilized.

37.2°C.

Normal.

His heart rate settled at sixty-eight beats per minute.

Breathing became steady.

Organ functions normalized.

The danger had passed.

A system notification appeared.

[Ding!]

[Successfully eliminated a high-risk genetically encoded virus and repaired extensive systemic burns!]

[Treatment Rating: A — Flawless!]

Lynn merely glanced at it.

The result was expected.

Happy Hogan was an ordinary human.

No superhuman abilities.

No exotic mutations.

No special bloodline.

The treatment itself had been challenging, but the patient was ultimately mundane.

That meant the copy rewards would be equally ordinary.

The next notification appeared.

[Divine Hand Copying Activated...]

[Scanning target core talents...]

[Talents detected:]

[Mixed Martial Arts Fundamentals (C-Rank)]

[Crisis Prediction Intuition (C+ Rank)]

[Highest available talent quality below acquisition threshold.]

[Copy process automatically cancelled.]

As expected.

Nothing useful.

Happy was still just Happy.

Lynn removed his gloves.

Then pushed open the operating-room door.

Tony remained outside.

Seated in a chair.

Elbows resting on his knees.

Hands clasped before his face.

The moment the door opened, he stood.

"How's Happy?"

"Alive."

Lynn walked toward the sink.

"The virus is completely gone."

"The burns are treated."

"The lung drainage tube is functioning normally."

"It can be removed in three days."

Tony visibly relaxed.

The tension drained from his body.

He collapsed back into the chair.

Tilted his head upward.

And released a long breath.

Several seconds passed.

Then he finally asked:

"How much?"

"Happy's treatment is free."

Tony blinked.

His expression immediately became suspicious.

Free?

From Lynn?

That sounded more alarming than an invoice.

Lynn returned to the front desk and picked up his now-cold Americano.

"Happy works for you."

"He's not your client."

"He got caught in a conflict that wasn't his."

Lynn took a sip.

Then frowned.

The coffee had become unpleasantly cold.

"You already paid."

Tony stared.

"The napkin."

"The Arc Reactor patent architecture."

"Don't forget."

For several seconds, Tony simply looked at him.

Then he asked:

"Do you ever pretend to be a good person?"

"I don't pretend to be anything."

Lynn placed the cup down.

"I just don't like owing people favors."

Tony remained silent.

Lynn continued.

"The last time I requested the medical pod deployment, you delivered it forty seconds faster than projected."

"Those forty seconds saved at least three lives."

"So Happy's surgery fee is covered."

"We're even."

"Next time you pay full price."

The clinic became quiet.

After a moment, Tony laughed softly.

Then shook his head.

"You know, Lynn..."

"What?"

"The most annoying thing about you is that everything is calculated."

Tony stood.

"But somehow you always explain it in a way that makes it impossible to get angry."

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"I know."

Tony snorted.

Then headed into the operating room.

Two hours later—

Happy Hogan opened his eyes.

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