MARVEL/DC: DOCTOR IN THE MULTIVERSE

Even if he's only killing criminals today...

Who can guarantee he'll only ever kill criminals?

Who can guarantee that his standards will never change?

Bruce Wayne closed the file.

The folder marked "L" disappeared into the Batcomputer archives.

He had no intention of confronting Lynn.

Not because he approved of what Lynn had done.

And not because he feared the truth.

The simple reality was that he currently lacked the ability to challenge him.

Until more information was gathered...

Until Alpha-Zero's capabilities were fully understood...

Confrontation would achieve nothing.

Observation remained the only rational option.

Continue gathering data.

Continue refining contingency plans.

Continue preparing for possibilities he hoped would never become reality.

Even if the most optimistic projections still placed the Alpha-Zero Response Plan's success rate at only thirty-three percent.

Bruce leaned back in his chair.

His eyes slowly closed.

The distant sound of underground water echoed throughout the Batcave.

The darkness remained silent.

...

Five days after Wilson Fisk's death.

New York remained unstable.

The chaos had eased compared to the first forty-eight hours, but the aftershocks continued.

The NYPD had increased patrols.

Street-level vigilantes worked almost continuously.

Several major gang conflicts had already been suppressed.

The city was slowly recovering.

Miracle Clinic, meanwhile, was thriving.

The aftermath of Metropolis.

The gang wars.

The increase in civilian injuries.

All of it translated into more patients.

Lynn averaged roughly ten consultations per day.

At three o'clock that afternoon, he was treating a piano instructor who had dislocated a finger while moving equipment.

The clinic door opened.

The newcomer immediately stood out.

Heavy winter coat.

Military-style overcoat extending below the knees.

Scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face.

Hat pulled low.

Only his eyes remained visible.

Yet none of that was the most noticeable feature.

His right sleeve hung empty.

The entire arm was gone.

The moment he entered, the All-Seeing Eye activated automatically.

[Automatic Diagnosis Initiated...]

[Patient Identified: Leonard Snart]

[Alias: Captain Cold]

[Injury Assessment:]

[1. Complete traumatic amputation of the right arm approximately 3 cm below the shoulder joint.]

[2. Wound surface contains residual high-frequency vibrational signatures consistent with Speed Force interaction.]

[3. Residual Speed Force micro-oscillations continuously disrupt cellular regeneration and tissue repair.]

[4. Severe cryogenic exposure around the amputation site has triggered localized immune rejection and intermittent muscular spasms.]

[5. Reattachment impossible using conventional surgical methods.]

[Overall Mortality Risk: 3.2%]

[Long-Term Prognosis: Permanent loss of limb if Speed Force residue remains untreated.]

Lynn finished reviewing the diagnostic results.

His gaze settled on the visitor.

Leonard Snart.

Captain Cold.

One of the Flash's oldest and most persistent adversaries.

A career criminal from Central City.

Leader of the Rogues.

And notably different from many costumed villains.

Unlike psychopaths such as the Joker, Snart operated according to rules.

Professional rules.

He robbed banks.

He hated unnecessary killing.

And he treated crime more like a business than a crusade.

Yet here he was.

A supervillain seeking medical treatment.

"Interesting."

Lynn turned toward his current patient.

"Ma'am, please wait outside for a few minutes."

The elderly piano teacher looked nervously at the heavily dressed stranger.

Then quickly collected her belongings and left.

The clinic door closed.

Snart removed his scarf.

A pale face emerged.

Sharp features.

Dark circles beneath the eyes.

Dry lips.

Signs of blood loss and prolonged stress.

"You're the miracle doctor?"

His voice carried the familiar rough confidence of a career criminal.

Though pain had clearly taken some of the edge away.

"It's written on the sign."

Snart walked forward.

With his remaining hand, he unbuttoned his overcoat.

A dark-blue turtleneck sweater appeared underneath.

The empty sleeve had been folded and tucked into his belt.

He sat down on the examination table.

The missing arm was impossible to ignore.

The wound had been sealed using an improvised metallic compression device.

Crude.

But effective.

At least the bleeding had stopped.

"The Flash did it."

Snart said it casually.

Almost conversationally.

"The Flash?"

Lynn raised an eyebrow.

"Barry Allen."

Snart's expression darkened.

"Or one of the other speedsters. Hard to tell these days."

Typical Flash-family problem.

"There was a new trick involved."

Snart continued.

"His hand started vibrating."

"Not just moving fast."

"Vibrating."

"My cold gun intercepted the strike."

He glanced at the empty sleeve.

"My arm lost."

Lynn nodded.

Comic-book science.

Perfectly normal.

"Where's the arm?"

A metallic cylinder appeared in Snart's left hand.

"I kept it."

The cylinder landed on the examination table.

"A portable cryogenic containment unit."

"Modified from my cold gun's cooling systems."

"Approximately minus two hundred degrees Celsius."

"Should still be usable."

Lynn picked up the container.

The All-Seeing Eye immediately scanned its contents.

Excellent preservation.

No significant tissue degradation.

No major necrosis.

The arm itself wasn't the problem.

The residual Speed Force contamination was.

Ordinary surgical instruments couldn't interact properly with the damaged tissue.

Sutures would disintegrate.

Cellular reconstruction would fail.

The microscopic oscillations continuously destabilized healing processes.

No wonder every underground surgeon had refused the case.

"Can you fix it?"

Snart got straight to the point.

Lynn set the cylinder down.

"I can."

Snart relaxed slightly.

"However."

"There are two issues."

"What issues?"

"The first is payment."

Lynn adjusted his glasses.

"Speed Force contamination removal."

"Full nerve reconstruction."

"Complete limb reattachment."

"Five hundred thousand dollars."

Snart stared.

Then laughed once.

A dry laugh.

"Five hundred thousand?"

"You'd have trouble finding that much money inside some banks."

"That's not my problem."

"The second issue?"

"You're a supervillain."

Snart frowned.

"What difference does that make?"

"My clinic treats everyone."

Lynn folded his arms.

"But I can't guarantee what happens after you leave."

"The Flash's jurisdiction doesn't extend into New York."

"But other people are watching."

"Think carefully."

Snart considered it.

Two seconds.

Three.

Then shrugged.

"I'll take the risk."

A pause.

"Can I pay in installments?"

"No."

"Three hundred thousand?"

"No bargaining."

Snart cursed quietly.

Then reached into another pocket.

Bundles of cash emerged.

Eighty thousand dollars.

Every bill looked authentic.

"This is all I have."

"The rest—"

"You still have the cold gun."

Snart immediately froze.

His eyes narrowed.

"The gun isn't for sale."

"I'm not buying it."

Lynn shook his head.

"I want to examine it."

"During treatment."

"As part of the consultation fee."

Snart stared.

"You want my technology."

"Examination."

Lynn corrected him.

"The technology remains yours."

"It's merely a diagnostic scan."

Several seconds passed.

Snart thought it through.

Eighty thousand dollars.

One equipment scan.

A functioning arm.

Compared to permanent disability, the price was acceptable.

"Fine."

"Deal."

Lynn pulled on surgical gloves.

Then pointed toward the operating table.

"Lie down."

...

The procedure began.

The All-Seeing Eye locked onto the residual Speed Force contamination.

Microscopic vibrations.

Approximately 7.83 trillion oscillations per second.

Weak in raw energy output.

Yet extraordinarily persistent.

The residue resembled an invisible membrane spread across every damaged cell.

Traditional surgical instruments were useless.

The contamination simply destabilized them.

Lynn reached for a specialized vibranium scalpel.

Power flowed into the blade.

Perfect Imperfection's thermal energy.

Vibranium resonance harmonics.

The edge began glowing blue-white.

This was the same instrument capable of separating Dark Dimension contamination from the Ancient One's soul.

Compared to that, residual Speed Force vibrations were a far simpler problem.

The blade descended.

The instant it touched the wound surface—

The invisible vibrational layer peeled away.

Like plastic film being stripped from glass.

Leonard Snart's entire body jerked violently.

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