Daredevil's Favor

"Speak."

"I have a friend named Luke Cage. He lives in Harlem and has been having some physical problems lately. The rather special kind."

Lynn's brain began searching the moment the name "Luke Cage" appeared.

He pieced together a quick profile from public news, social media, and the remnants of super-powered individual files in the Batman database—

Luke Cage, ex-convict, gained indestructible skin and super strength from an experimental accident in prison, currently active in Harlem.

Indestructible.

Lynn's heart rate accelerated for half a second.

He kept it under control.

"What kind of special problems?"

"It's not convenient for me to say. But a regular hospital definitely can't handle it. I'd like to give him your contact information, do you mind?"

"Of course not. That's the point of running a clinic."

Matt nodded.

He fished a business card out of his pocket—"Murdock & Nelson Attorneys at Law"—and placed it on the table.

"This is mine. If you run into any trouble in the future, you can look me up too. Not necessarily the kind of help that requires a lawyer."

"What other kind of help do you offer?" Lynn's tone carried a hint of harmless curiosity.

Matt smiled. "Depends on the situation."

He stood up and picked up his cane.

As he walked to the door, he passed Frank, and the two stared at each other in silence for a second—or more accurately, Matt stopped for a second facing Frank's direction.

Frank's hand moved away from the top of his canvas bag.

"Do you know him?" Lynn asked Frank after Matt left.

"I've seen him," Frank's tone was clipped. "Daredevil."

"He's a lawyer who came for a follow-up."

Frank glanced at Lynn and didn't refute it.

He sat back down on the folding chair and opened his newspaper.

But Lynn noticed that Frank's fingers were tighter than usual as he turned the pages.

There was bad blood between Frank and Daredevil.

In the criminology database, the two had clashed many times—a fundamental disagreement in philosophy.

Frank killed; Matt did not.

This contradiction was irreconcilable.

Yet, they were both sitting in Lynn's clinic.

One acting as a security guard at the door, the other coming in for a check-up.

Neither mentioned the other.

Lynn tucked Matt's business card into his drawer.

The ledger in his head flipped another page.

Super Intelligence, Super Senses, Healing Factor.

Three abilities in hand.

His intelligence and senses were top-tier, but his physical fitness was still far behind.

Luke Cage—indestructible skin plus super strength.

If he could copy even one of them, his survivability would climb to a new level.

Wait.

No need to rush.

The fish would come on its own.

That evening, before Frank went out to "patrol," he left a brown paper bag at the door.

"Take a look at this," he said, then left.

Lynn opened the bag.

Inside was information obtained from Frank's underworld intelligence network—printed on ordinary A4 paper, small font, rough layout.

The content was about a batch of Vibranium bullets.

Source: Wakandan smuggling channels.

Transit: Johannesburg, South Africa.

Entry point: Brooklyn docks, New York.

Current location: Flowed into the Hell's Kitchen black market.

Quantity: Approximately fifty rounds.

Vibranium.

Lynn stared at the two words for three seconds.

Vibranium was one of the hardest metals known, produced in Wakanda.

Captain America's shield was made of Vibranium.

Ordinary bullets were like a tickle against Luke Cage's skin—but what about Vibranium bullets?

That stuff could pierce Luke Cage.

Lynn locked the information in his safe.

He suddenly felt that Luke Cage might not make him wait too long.

Late at night, four days later.

Lynn was organizing a medicine procurement list on the second floor.

His Super Senses were scanning continuously within a two-hundred-meter radius.

At 11:47 PM, he captured three unusual life signals moving toward the clinic from the northeast.

Group one: A male, weighing approximately 220 pounds, heart rate fast but strong.

His gait was steady but slow, with an injury on his right flank—he could hear a faint metallic friction coming from that area, appearing with every step, as if some foreign object inside his body was rubbing against his internal organs.

Group two: A female, weighing approximately 130 pounds, footsteps light but breathing anxious.

Her hands were supporting the first person's right arm.

She had the lingering scent of isopropyl alcohol from a hospital—a medical professional.

Group three: A male, approximately 170 pounds.

The sound of a white cane tapping the ground. Matt Murdock.

Lynn put down the list and went downstairs.

When he opened the clinic door, the three of them had just reached the entrance.

Luke Cage was even more robust than Lynn had imagined.

Nearly 1.9 meters tall, his shoulders were as wide as a door frame, and the muscles beneath his hoodie stretched the fabric taut.

But his complexion was terrible—his skin was covered in a layer of gray, his lips were slightly purple, and he was clearly holding on by a thread.

His right hand was clutching his right flank, where there was an unnatural bulge.

The woman supporting him was in her early thirties, black hair tied in a ponytail, wearing an old sweatshirt.

Her eyes were heavy, and her hands had the rough texture of someone who had done long-term nursing work.

Claire Temple.

The nurse Matt had mentioned earlier.

"Dr. Lynn," Matt walked in front, knocking twice on the already open door frame. "I brought Luke. It's not looking good."

"Come in."

Luke was helped into the first-floor VIP exam room.

Claire helped him sit on the exam table, and Luke let out a heavy breath, as if the walk had already exhausted much of his strength.

Lynn stood across from him.

The system panel popped up—

[Automatic diagnosis initiated—]

[Patient: Luke Cage (Codename: Power Man)]

[Injury assessment:]

[1. Vibranium bullet head embedded subcutaneously in the right flank, located adjacent to the right lobe of the liver, 1.2 cm from the portal vein;]

[2. Surface skin of the wound has healed on its own, completely encapsulating the bullet head within the body;]

[3. Vibranium bullet head is continuously releasing trace radiation, causing early fibrosis in the surrounding liver tissue;]

[4. Special note: Target's skin hardness exceeds the cutting capability of all known surgical instruments; conventional surgical approach is not feasible!]

[Comprehensive mortality rate: 37% (If the bullet head is not removed, it will progress to liver failure within six weeks)]

And then—

[Curing this target is expected to copy: A-rank talent!]

A-rank. Indestructible.

Lynn's heart skipped another beat.

But his face showed nothing.

"Let me see." He stepped forward.

Luke lifted the hem of his hoodie, revealing his right flank.

Lynn saw the wound—no, it could no longer be called a wound.

Where the bullet had entered, there was only a coin-sized, light-colored scar, and the surface skin had completely healed.