Energy erupted.
It was unlike every time he had copied a power before.
This time, the energy didn't begin in one part of his body—it surged from every cell at once.
Lynn braced himself against the edge of the examination table.
His muscles tightened, his bones trembled faintly, and his heart rate shot up from its usual sixty-something beats per minute to 120—then settled steadily back to fifty-eight after five seconds.
Lower than before.
Because his heart had grown stronger.
He glanced down at his arm.
The muscles in his forearm looked more defined beneath the cuff of his white coat than they had five minutes ago.
They hadn't swelled. They had tightened.
Like a slack steel cable pulled taut again.
Super Soldier Physique: 70%.
This wasn't an increase in just one attribute.
Strength, speed, stamina, reflexes, bone density, muscle resilience—all of them had been raised by an entire tier at once.
And the new power stacked with all the abilities he already had.
Beneath his Indestructible skin, he now had muscles and bones on the level of a Super Soldier.
With 55% Superhuman Strength stacked on top of 70% Super Soldier Physique, his actual strength far exceeded what you'd get by simply adding the two together.
Boosted by his Super Soldier Physique, his Healing Factor had become even faster.
Lynn clenched a fist.
He felt the power contained in it.
This wasn't Jessica's crude brute force. It was precise, controlled, efficient power.
Captain America's body was the most efficient human template there was.
If he'd once been "a superhuman a cut above ordinary people," he now stood on the threshold of the top tier of street-level heroes.
Lynn tugged his white coat's cuffs down, concealing the changes in his arms.
His face gave nothing away.
[Reputation Points change: +100 (healed Captain America—superhero-level treatment). Current Reputation Points: 580.]
That same day.
Midtown Manhattan.
The top floor of Fisk Tower.
Wilson Fisk sat behind his custom extra-wide desk.
Beyond the window, New York's skyline glittered with lights. A file lay open on the desk in front of him.
It had been delivered by his personal intelligence analyst, James Wesley.
There was no title on the cover, only a code—MF-0419.
Wesley stood three meters from the desk.
The distance had been carefully calculated: close enough to speak normally, far enough to leave room to react when his boss was in a bad mood.
Kingpin opened the file.
The first page held a photograph of the front of the Miracle Clinic.
An inconspicuous storefront on the ground floor, with a white sign.
"Lynn," Kingpin read aloud.
His voice was soft, but Wesley could hear the weight behind it.
"Twenty-two years old, Chinese-American, formerly an assistant at the Leo Clinic. Opened the Miracle Clinic independently after Leo was arrested."
Kingpin turned to the second page.
"His activities over the past two months," Wesley said evenly. "He healed Frank Castle—the Punisher. The Punisher spent a month sitting outside his door, acting as a bodyguard."
"During that month, we lost three transfer points and a supply route in Hell's Kitchen."
"The Punisher wasn't responsible for all of it, but his presence kept our people from operating in that area."
Kingpin said nothing and kept reading.
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"He's had several encounters with Daredevil. Daredevil's recovery time after his injuries was expected to be three to four months, but it was cut to less than three weeks. We don't know why, but the timing matches his recorded visit to the Miracle Clinic."
Kingpin's finger paused on the page.
"There's more," Wesley said. "He's established a formal working relationship with S.H.I.E.L.D. Fury went to see him in person. After that, he healed Luke Cage and Jessica Jones."
"Most recently—three days ago, during the mutation incident in Harlem District, he synthesized a Reversal Agent at the scene in twenty minutes. The entire Avengers watched him do it."
Kingpin closed the file.
He rested his palm on the cover.
His hands were huge, but he moved them gently.
"He healed the Punisher. He healed Daredevil. He put Luke Cage back on the streets." Kingpin spoke in the same unhurried rhythm, enunciating each word clearly.
"The stronger these men get, the harder it is to run my business."
"Yes."
"A doctor who can heal any opponent. That alone is a threat."
Wesley didn't answer.
He knew his boss wasn't asking for an opinion.
Kingpin stood.
His size made the desk seem a whole lot narrower.
He walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and looked out at New York.
"About Leo," he said abruptly.
Wesley's expression didn't change. "Leo has been held at Rikers Island ever since his arrest. Our legal team has made sure he won't say anything in court that he shouldn't."
"Snake Eyes's death—Leo said it was caused by a mistake made by his assistant, Lynn. But what really happened?"
"There's no conclusive evidence. But Lynn left Leo's clinic the day after Snake Eyes died. The timeline is suspicious."
Kingpin pressed one massive hand lightly against the window.
His fingertips left an oval of condensation on the glass.
"If he knows the real cause of Snake Eyes's death, whether he was responsible or witnessed it, he has a lead that could implicate me."
"My recommendation is that we find out as soon as possible," Wesley said.
"Not find out." Kingpin turned around. "Deal with it. Activate Shadow Crow. Investigate him first and learn everything we can. If necessary—"
He left the rest unsaid.
But Wesley understood.
"I'll make arrangements tonight."
Kingpin sat back down.
His gaze returned to the file cover on the desk—MF-0419.
"One more thing," he said. "The Punisher's gone, right?"
"Confirmed. Castle left the clinic more than two weeks ago. He's currently operating in the Bronx."
"Who's guarding the clinic now?"
"No one."
Kingpin's mouth twitched.
At the same time.
The Miracle Clinic.
Lynn turned off the lights and lay down on the folding bed on the second floor.
He'd seen fourteen patients at the clinic today, healed Captain America, and gained over a hundred Reputation Points.
He'd been busy all day.
His eyes were closed, but his Super Senses were always on.
Every heartbeat within a two-hundred-meter radius was automatically tagged and categorized.
11:42 p.m.
He detected something unusual.
A heartbeat had appeared on the roof of the apartment building across from the clinic.
A resting heart rate of fifty-four beats per minute. The person was deliberately suppressing their breathing.
They held perfectly still, but Lynn's hearing picked up an extremely faint mechanical sound.
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