MARVEL/DC: DOCTOR IN THE MULTIVERSE

Natasha gritted her teeth.

Ahead of the tunnel, Bruce remotely accessed Bucharest's traffic-control network and forced the nearby intersections into a coordinated lockdown.

Traffic lights turned red.

Cars screeched to a halt.

Within seconds, several vehicles formed an improvised barrier around the tunnel exit.

Above them, War Machine descended.

The armored boots struck the roadway with enough force to crack the pavement.

Shoulder-mounted concussion systems deployed, filling the tunnel with a deep mechanical hum.

"Enough!"

Rhodey's amplified voice echoed through the tunnel.

"Everybody stop!"

T'Challa lunged toward Barnes again.

Steve stepped between them, raising his shield.

The claws of the Black Panther suit struck the vibranium shield with a violent metallic shriek.

T'Challa recoiled.

Barnes backed against an abandoned van, breathing heavily.

He looked at Steve.

"I told you that you shouldn't have come."

Steve was breathing hard.

"Too late."

The Bucharest pursuit had reached its end.

...

The captured fugitives and detained combatants were transferred to a temporary international detention facility outside Berlin.

The arrangement was improvised and heavily classified, using a former military-intelligence installation that had been converted into a secure holding site.

Three underground levels.

Reinforced walls.

Electronic counter-surveillance systems.

Restricted communications.

Bucky Barnes was placed in a reinforced isolation cell on the lowest level.

His cybernetic arm was secured to a specialized restraint frame designed to prevent unauthorized movement without damaging the prosthetic or its neural interface.

The arm itself was an advanced cybernetic replacement, the product of decades of HYDRA experimentation and technological modification. It had served Barnes through countless missions and remained vastly stronger than an ordinary human limb.

Barnes sat in a metal chair.

His expression was blank.

Steve was held on the second level in a separate isolation room.

Several armed guards remained outside.

Sam Wilson occupied another room nearby.

His flight harness had been confiscated, but he was otherwise being treated as a cooperative detainee rather than a high-risk prisoner.

Wanda and Pietro were kept in another secured room.

Wanda remained silent.

Pietro paced continuously.

T'Challa wasn't detained.

His status as the head of Wakanda's royal delegation complicated the issue considerably, and the European authorities had no interest in creating an additional diplomatic crisis.

When asked to submit to formal questioning, he refused.

"My father was murdered."

His voice was cold.

"I will cooperate with an investigation into the attack."

"But I will not surrender my authority over the matter to people who have already decided who the killer is."

The liaison officer had little choice but to accept the refusal.

The entire facility felt as though it were holding its breath.

...

The medical room was on the first floor.

Bucky's shoulder had been aggravated during the chase.

The old scar tissue around the shoulder complex had reopened, and the neural interface linking his prosthetic arm to the remaining nerve structures was overheating.

The facility medic examined it.

Then stopped.

He had no idea how to proceed.

Bucky's cybernetic arm was far beyond ordinary prosthetic medicine.

Even determining whether the interface malfunction was biological, electrical, or neurological required equipment the detention facility didn't possess.

T'Challa had also sustained injuries during the pursuit.

A hard strike from Barnes's cybernetic arm had fractured several ribs and caused internal soft-tissue trauma.

The Black Panther suit had absorbed most of the force, but T'Challa still had a small splenic contusion and significant bruising.

He refused examination.

"I don't require treatment."

The medic looked at him.

"Your Highness, you do."

"I said I don't."

The medic stepped away.

He spoke into his communicator.

"We need a specialist."

"What kind?"

The medic looked toward Barnes's containment room, then toward T'Challa.

"A specialist capable of treating enhanced physiology and cybernetic interfaces."

The answer came immediately.

"Already contacting someone."

Natasha Romanoff was standing outside the medical room.

She had heard the entire conversation.

She turned toward the officer responsible for the facility.

"Contact Dr. Lynn."

"Don't waste time."

...

Fifteen minutes later.

The air beside the medical room distorted.

Golden sparks appeared.

A circular portal opened.

Lynn stepped through.

White coat.

Medical case in his right hand.

Gold-rimmed glasses perfectly clean.

Several armed personnel immediately raised their weapons.

At least twelve muzzles were trained on him.

Lynn glanced around.

"Lower the weapons."

His tone was casual.

"This is a medical room."

"Not a firing range."

After a brief hesitation, the personnel lowered their weapons.

Tony's voice came through the facility's communications projector.

"You got here quickly."

Lynn placed his medical case on the examination table.

"Your emergency-call fee arrived even faster."

Tony's face appeared on the display.

His expression twisted.

"Don't say that in front of everyone."

Lynn smiled slightly.

"Yes, esteemed client."

...

Bucky sat inside the restraint chair.

His cybernetic arm remained locked into the containment frame.

He looked up when Lynn approached.

Lynn placed two fingers against Barnes's shoulder.

The All-Seeing Eye activated.

[Automatic Diagnosis Initiated—]

[Patient: James Buchanan Barnes — Winter Soldier]

[Injury Assessment:]

[1. Previous trauma to the right shoulder girdle, with approximately 35% fiber disruption across the posterior deltoid and infraspinatus musculature.]

[2. Neural interface overload affecting the cybernetic arm; second-degree thermal injury to the peripheral interface tissue. Neural conduction remains functional.]

[3. Central nervous system: persistent conditioning architecture associated with HYDRA's psychological programming. Dormant trigger-response pathways remain neurologically active but are not currently engaged.]

[Overall Fatality Risk: 0.7%.]

[Healing this target is expected to permit copying of a B+ Rank talent: Super-Soldier Physiology — Incomplete Version.]

[Additional Note: If dormant conditioning pathways are activated and subsequently treated, an additional resistance model against external mental conditioning may become available.]

Lynn's gaze lingered on that final line.

Then he withdrew his hand.

"The shoulder isn't the urgent problem."

He looked at Barnes's cybernetic arm.

"Your neural interface is overheating."

Barnes watched him carefully.

"Are you a doctor?"

"Miracle Clinic. Fifth Avenue, New York."

Lynn took a sterile swab and began cleaning the damaged area around the interface.

"I treat injuries."

"I don't care which organization the patient belongs to."

He paused.

"Your ability to pay is a separate question."

Barnes remained silent.

Steve appeared in the doorway outside the medical room.

A guard prevented him from entering.

Lynn glanced toward Barnes.

"Can you hear me clearly?"

Barnes nodded.

"I'll treat your shoulder and stabilize the interface."

"I won't touch your brain."

He lifted the swab.

"Not without permission."

A brief pause.

"Or an additional fee."

Steve couldn't help speaking.

"Lynn."

Lynn didn't look toward him.

"Don't worry, Captain Rogers."

"Neurological treatment is significantly more expensive than orthopedic treatment."

"I'm not doing it for free."

The treatment proceeded.

Lynn repaired the damaged shoulder tissue, stabilized the interface around the cybernetic arm, and reduced the thermal stress on the neural connection.

Four minutes later, he finished.

He removed his gloves.

"Done."

He turned toward T'Challa.

The Wakandan king was sitting on another examination bed.

He still hadn't removed the upper portion of his clothing.

"I don't need treatment."

Lynn walked over.

Two fingers pressed lightly against the right side of his rib cage.

T'Challa's body stiffened.

"You do."

T'Challa looked at him.

"Do you speak to every patient that way?"

"No."

Lynn opened his medical kit and removed the ultrasound probe.

"Only the ones who can afford my rates."

T'Challa gave him a long look.

Then allowed the examination.

The ultrasound confirmed the splenic contusion and rib fractures.

Lynn stabilized the injured ribs and treated the internal bleeding before it could progress.

The damage was minor by Lynn's standards.

But T'Challa's enhanced physiology meant the healing process would be considerably faster than that of an ordinary human.

Wakandan medical science was already advanced, and the Black Panther's physical enhancement further increased his resistance and recovery.

Finally, Lynn turned toward Sam Wilson.

Sam was sitting in a chair with a strip of torn fabric wrapped around his shoulder.

He tilted his head.

"Finally."

"My turn."

Lynn examined him.

His injury was superficial.

"The least serious injury in this room."

Lynn removed the makeshift dressing.

"Which means you should have been last."

Sam sighed.

"I knew it."

Lynn cleaned the wound and closed it with several precise stitches.

Natasha stood nearby.

Her expression remained serious.

When Lynn finished, she asked quietly:

"Can you tell whether Barnes was responsible for the bombing?"

Lynn didn't look up.

"I'm a doctor."

"Not a judge."

Natasha didn't move.

"You know that's not what I'm asking."

Lynn cut the final suture and placed the instruments back inside the medical kit.

He looked toward Barnes.

"Based on the physiological response recorded during the chase..."

"He doesn't look like someone who has just completed a precision demolition operation."

"His cortisol response is too low for the level of sustained stress you'd normally expect after executing a coordinated attack."

"And his neurological stress pattern doesn't match the profile I would expect from someone actively controlling a mission of that complexity."

He closed the medical kit.

"But that doesn't go into the report for free."

Natasha looked at him.

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