"Go ahead."
"I have a friend named Luke Cage. He lives in the Harlem District and has been having some physical problems lately. The unusual kind."
The moment the name "Luke Cage" came up, Lynn's brain began searching.
He pieced together a quick profile from public news, social media, and the surviving metahuman files in the Batman knowledge base—
Luke Cage, a former convict who had gained unbreakable skin and superhuman strength in a laboratory accident while in prison. He was currently active in the Harlem District.
Indestructible.
Lynn's heart sped up for half a second.
He kept it under control.
"What kind of unusual problem?"
"I'd rather not say. But a regular hospital definitely can't handle it. I'd like to give him your contact information. Would that be all right?"
"Of course. That's what having a clinic is for."
Matt nodded.
He pulled a business card from his pocket—"Murdock & Nelson, Attorneys at Law"—and set it on the table.
"This is mine. If you run into any trouble down the line, you can call me. It doesn't have to be the lawyer kind of help."
"What other kinds of help do you offer?" Lynn asked with mild, innocent curiosity.
Matt smiled. "Depends on the situation."
He stood and picked up his cane.
At the door, he passed Frank. The two men silently faced each other for a second—or, more accurately, Matt paused for a second facing Frank's direction.
Frank moved his hand away from the top of his canvas bag.
"You know him?" Lynn asked Frank after Matt had left.
"Seen him before." Frank's answer was terse. "Daredevil."
"He's a lawyer who came in for a follow-up."
Frank glanced at Lynn but didn't argue.
He sat back down on the folding chair and opened his newspaper.
But Lynn noticed Frank's fingers gripped the paper a little tighter than usual.
Frank and Daredevil had a history.
According to the criminology database, they'd clashed many times over their fundamental differences in principle.
Frank killed. Matt didn't.
There was no reconciling that conflict.
Yet they'd both sat in Lynn's clinic.
One stood guard at the door. The other came in as a patient.
Neither had mentioned the other.
Lynn put Matt's business card in a drawer.
The ledger in his mind turned another page.
Super Intelligence, Super Senses, Healing Factor.
He had three abilities now.
His intelligence and senses were top-tier, but his physical abilities still had a long way to go.
Luke Cage—unbreakable skin and superhuman strength.
If Lynn could copy even one of those abilities, his chances of survival would take another leap forward.
Wait.
There was no need to rush.
The fish would come to him.
That evening, before Frank went out on "patrol," he left a brown paper bag by the door.
"Take a look at this," he said, then left.
Lynn opened the bag.
Inside was information Frank had obtained through his criminal underworld network, printed on ordinary A4 paper in tiny type and laid out haphazardly.
It was about a batch of Vibranium bullets.
Source: Wakandan smuggling channels.
Transfer point: Johannesburg, South Africa.
Point of entry: the Brooklyn docks, New York.
Current location: had entered the Hell's Kitchen black market.
Quantity: approximately fifty rounds.
Vibranium.
Lynn stared at the word for three seconds.
Vibranium was one of the hardest known metals, mined in Wakanda.
Captain America's shield was made of Vibranium.
Ordinary bullets bouncing off Luke Cage's skin felt like a tickle—but what about Vibranium bullets?
Those could pierce Luke Cage.
Lynn locked the information in the safe.
He suddenly had a feeling Luke Cage wouldn't keep him waiting long.
Four days later, late at night.
Lynn was upstairs sorting out a medication order.
His Super Senses continuously scanned the area within a two-hundred-meter listening range.
At 11:47 p.m., he picked up three unusual life signs moving toward the clinic from the northeast.
The first: a man weighing about 220 pounds, with a fast but strong heartbeat.
His steps were steady but slow. He had an injury on the right side of his abdomen—Lynn could hear a faint metallic scraping from that area with every step, as if something inside him was rubbing against his organs.
The second: a woman weighing about 130 pounds, moving quickly but breathing anxiously.
She was supporting the first man by his right arm.
The lingering smell of medical isopropyl alcohol clung to her—she was a healthcare worker.
The third: a man weighing about 170 pounds.
The sound of a white cane tapping the ground. Matt Murdock.
Lynn set down the list and went downstairs.
When he opened the clinic door, the three of them had just reached it.
Luke Cage was even more imposing than Lynn had expected.
Nearly six foot three, with shoulders as broad as a door. His muscles stretched the fabric of his hoodie taut.
But his complexion was terrible—a grayish pallor covered his skin, and his lips were slightly purple. He was clearly forcing himself to stay upright.
His right hand pressed against the right side of his abdomen, where an unnatural bulge showed.
The woman supporting him was in her early thirties, with black hair tied in a ponytail and an old sweatshirt.
Dark circles ringed her eyes, and the skin on her hands was rough from years of nursing work.
Claire Temple.
The nurse Matt had mentioned before.
"Dr. Lynn." Matt led the way and tapped twice on the already-open doorframe. "I brought Luke. It's not looking good."
"Come in."
They helped Luke into the VIP examination room on the first floor.
Claire helped him sit on the examination bed. Luke let out a heavy breath, as if the trip had already taken a lot out of him.
Lynn stood across from him.
The System Panel appeared—
[Automatic diagnosis initiated—] [Patient: Luke Cage (codename: Power Man)] [Injury assessment:] [1. A subcutaneous Vibranium bullet is lodged in the right side of the abdomen, directly beside the right lobe of the liver; the bullet is 1.2 centimeters from the portal vein;] [2. The surface skin around the wound has healed on its own, completely enclosing the bullet inside the body;] [3. The Vibranium bullet is continuously releasing trace amounts of radiation, causing early fibrosis in the surrounding liver tissue;] [4. Special note: The target's skin hardness exceeds the cutting capacity of all known surgical instruments; conventional surgical access is not viable!] [Overall mortality rate: 37% (if the bullet is not removed, liver failure will develop within six weeks)] [After treating this target, estimated ability that can be copied: A-grade talent!]
A-grade. Indestructible.
Lynn's heart skipped another beat.
But nothing showed on his face.
"Let me take a look." He stepped forward.
Luke lifted the hem of his hoodie, exposing the right side of his abdomen.
Lynn saw the wound—or rather, it could no longer be called a wound.
All that remained where the bullet had entered was a pale scar the size of a coin. The skin had healed completely.
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