Chapter 143: Post-War Reconstruction
Bruce opened the folder.
Inside was every piece of information he had collected since Lynn first opened Miracle Clinic.
Patient records.
Treatment reports.
Documented displays of unusual abilities.
Behavioral analyses.
Psychological observations.
Financial records.
Witness statements.
The file had grown thicker and thicker over time.
Bruce flipped to the final page.
It was a timeline comparison chart he had compiled after the Battle of Metropolis.
Masked Man's first appearance:
Approximately forty minutes after the World Engine activated.
Lynn's last confirmed appearance:
Approximately thirty minutes after the World Engine activated.
After that point, the medical pod's full-spectrum radiation shielding had been activated, preventing satellites, scanners, and conventional surveillance equipment from verifying whether Lynn remained inside.
A gap of ten minutes existed.
Ten minutes.
More than enough time for someone to switch identities.
But one problem remained unresolved.
The size difference.
Bruce lightly tapped the table three times.
Unless...
Unless Lynn possessed an ability capable of altering his body at the molecular level.
Shape manipulation.
Biological restructuring.
Adaptive evolution.
The number of known powers matching such criteria was extremely small.
His thoughts drifted back to another word.
Collect.
The masked man displayed far too many abilities.
Physical strength beyond Kryptonian standards.
Heat vision.
Electromagnetic manipulation.
Teleportation.
Energy absorption.
Every one of those powers would be considered top-tier by itself.
More importantly, they originated from completely different power systems.
Some resembled Kryptonian abilities.
Others resembled mutant gifts.
Some bordered on advanced energy manipulation.
A few even appeared magical.
No ordinary superhuman should be capable of possessing all of them simultaneously.
Unless he wasn't ordinary.
Bruce slowly closed the folder.
At this point, he was already unconsciously placing Lynn and the masked man into the same category.
His previous conversations with Lynn had confirmed a consistent pattern.
Growth.
Relentless growth.
The problem was that the masked man's combat capabilities had exceeded even Bruce's projections.
Far exceeded them.
No need to rush.
Observe.
Gather information.
Maintain cooperation.
Wait until the truth revealed itself.
Bruce picked up his phone.
A message was sent.
"I have several questions regarding the post-war medical statistics from Metropolis. I'd like to discuss them in person when convenient."
Sent.
He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
Water flowed through the Batcave's underground river.
Several bats flew overhead.
Their wings produced soft, rapid sounds in the darkness.
Bruce thought of a sentence.
But he never spoke it aloud.
Lynn...
Just how far have you grown?
...
Ten days after the war.
New York.
Miracle Clinic.
For Lynn, these ten days had been surprisingly productive.
The clinic operated normally during the daytime.
In fact, business was better than ever.
The Battle of Metropolis had left behind countless injured heroes, rescue workers, and civilians.
Many injuries were beyond the capabilities of ordinary hospitals.
Eventually, they found their way to Miracle Clinic.
Most of the visitors were second- and third-tier heroes.
The true front-line combatants—Superman, Captain America, Thor, Tony Stark, and others—either possessed exceptional healing abilities or had access to advanced medical technology.
Still, several patients stood out.
One of them was Frank Castle.
The Punisher.
During the evacuation efforts on the outskirts of Metropolis, a fragment of Kryptonian spacecraft debris had pierced his left shoulder.
The metal shard lodged itself between the clavicle and scapula.
Ordinary surgical equipment struggled to penetrate his enhanced tissue due to the regenerative abilities he had acquired.
When Frank entered the clinic, a blood-soaked strip of canvas was wrapped around his shoulder.
It looked as though it had been ripped from a damaged evacuation tent.
"It's you again."
Lynn glanced up.
"It's me again."
Frank sat on the examination table.
He pulled a crumpled bundle of cash from his pocket and dropped it onto the table.
"Three thousand six hundred dollars."
"I counted it twice."
"The surgery costs fifty thousand."
Frank narrowed his eyes.
"You raised the price."
"Inflation."
The clinic fell silent.
Two seconds passed.
Then Frank asked,
"Do I need to stay here for another month?"
"No."
Lynn walked over.
His All-Seeing Eye had already completed a detailed scan of the embedded fragment.
"Last time you stayed here, you kicked my money tree to death."
"I'm not interested in repeating that experience."
"That tree was already dying."
"It was perfectly healthy before you arrived."
Lynn picked up a specialized surgical scalpel.
A precise incision was made.
Frank didn't even flinch.
His pain tolerance bordered on the absurd.
Years of warfare, torture, bullet wounds, explosions, and close-quarters combat had rendered ordinary pain almost meaningless.
The procedure was completed quickly.
Fragment removed.
Wound cleaned.
Sutures applied.
Anti-inflammatory injection administered.
Less than ten minutes.
"Come back in three days."
Lynn removed his gloves.
"I'll remove the stitches then."
"As for the bill..."
Frank reached toward the cash.
"Forget it."
Lynn pushed the money back.
"How many civilians did you evacuate in Metropolis?"
Frank shrugged.
"No idea."
"I wasn't counting."
"Fury estimated around two thousand."
Lynn adjusted his glasses.
"You entered the gravity field alone."
"Armed with nothing but firearms."
Frank rotated his shoulder experimentally.
The pain was nearly gone.
"They would've died."
He answered as though it were obvious.
"So you went."
"Yeah."
Lynn looked at him for several seconds.
Then said:
"Next time, wear body armor before charging into an alien invasion."
"Your healing factor isn't strong enough to ignore shrapnel."
"A vest wouldn't stop that debris."
"Then wear two."
Frank's lips twitched slightly.
Maybe it was a smile.
Maybe not.
He pocketed the money.
Turned.
Walked toward the exit.
At the doorway, he suddenly stopped.
"Lynn."
"Yeah?"
"I saw your medical pod in Metropolis."
"Saw what?"
"The gravity field."
Frank's eyes narrowed.
"Three times Earth's gravity."
"I saw Stark-tech equipment collapse inside it."
"I saw military vehicles crushed flat."
"But your pod remained standing."
Lynn replied immediately.
"Stark Industries manufacturing."
"Premium quality."
Frank stared at him.
Two seconds.
Three.
"You don't strike me as the type who waits around for casualties to be delivered."
"That's exactly what I am."
Frank said nothing further.
He stepped outside.
The afternoon sunlight illuminated the streets of New York.
Moments later, he disappeared around the corner.
Lynn watched him leave.
Then closed the clinic door.
...
Over the following days, visitors became increasingly frequent.
The most persistent was Tony Stark.
He appeared almost daily.
Sometimes he arrived carrying technical questions.
Vibranium-palladium alloy structures.
Multidimensional energy shielding algorithms.
High-density reactor architecture.
Other times, he arrived with no questions at all.
He simply occupied the clinic sofa.
Drank tea.
Complained about Pepper.
Complained about Fury.
Then complained some more.
"Do you know what Fury's been doing lately?"
Tony slumped into the couch while holding a cup of premium Longjing tea brewed by Lynn.
"No."
"He's building a God-Level Threat Database."
Lynn raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
Tony rolled his eyes.
"The masked man is ranked first."
"Superman is second."
"Thor is third."
"And?"
"He wants containment plans."
Tony nearly choked on the word.
"Containment."
"Think about that."
"He wants me to design methods for containing something capable of destroying the World Engine with bare hands."
"You agreed?"
"I told him I'd think about it."
Tony took another sip of tea.
Then sighed.
"The truth is, I'm already working on it."
"For Fury?"
"No."
Tony stared into his teacup.
"For myself."
Lynn didn't speak.
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