Tony's Return Visit

The sound of a shutter.

The shutter of a telephoto lens.

Someone was photographing his clinic.

Lynn did not move.

He lay on the bed, his expression unchanged, his breathing steady.

But his brain had already begun to work.

The frequency and duration of the shutter clicks—one every forty-five seconds or so—had been going on for about ten minutes.

The subjects were likely the clinic's exterior walls, the doors and windows, and the surrounding street environment.

A standard reconnaissance photography rhythm.

Not a reporter.

Reporters' shooting rhythms were random, and they would frequently move to find different angles.

This person remained fixed in the same spot, shooting at uniform intervals—professionally trained intelligence reconnaissance.

Not S.H.I.E.L.D.

Fury's surveillance methods were far more sophisticated than this; he wouldn't use such a primitive approach.

Not Batman.

Bruce used drones and remote sensors.

The process of elimination was complete.

Lynn whispered a name in the darkness.

"Kingpin."

For the next four days, Lynn maintained his normal routine.

He saw patients during the day.

He listened at night.

The scout on the opposite rooftop didn't come every day, but the pattern was clear: every other day, between ten o'clock and midnight.

Each visit lasted about an hour.

Lynn did not alert the enemy.

He had identified the camera brand the other party was using by the sound of the shutter—a Nikon D5 Series, which had a unique high-frequency component to its shutter sound.

Then, through the shooting angle and the specific location of the rooftop the person occupied, he calculated what they were photographing: the front of the clinic, the back door, the second-floor windows, and the spacing between adjacent buildings.

This was terrain reconnaissance before an infiltration.

On the afternoon of the fourth day.

A familiar black Audi A8 pulled up to the entrance.

When Tony Stark walked into Miracle Clinic for the second time, he was carrying a paper bag in his left hand.

Inside the bag were two bottles of liquor: one bottle of Pinot Noir from Burgundy, and one bottle of Japanese Yamazaki 18 Year.

"Which one is for me?" Lynn asked.

"Depends on your performance." Tony placed the paper bag on the front desk.

His condition was much better than last time.

The diffuse grayness of his complexion had returned to a normal wheat tone, and the discolored patch of skin on his neck had mostly faded.

His right hand—it wasn't shaking.

All-Things Diagnosis performed an automatic scan: serum palladium concentration was twenty-one micrograms per liter, down five points from the end of the last treatment.

This was the body's natural metabolism finishing the residual effects of the chelating agent.

The current concentration was already far below the safety line.

"You're in good shape," Lynn said.

"I feel like I'm back to three years ago." Tony sat down in a chair and crossed his legs.

"But I didn't just come for a follow-up. I have some good news and a—well, a proposal."

"Tell me the good news first."

"The materials my dad left behind, the ones you mentioned last time. I found them."

Tony took off his sunglasses.

His eyes were much brighter than before, holding something Lynn hadn't seen previously.

It wasn't excitement; it was closer to a very complex sense of relief.

"The old man hid a molecular structure diagram inside the miniature model from the 1974 World's Fair."

"I played with that model hundreds of times as a kid and never noticed it. Not until I did what you said—and looked at the things he left behind again."

"Is it the structure of a new element?"

"JARVIS finished the modeling analysis. The atomic number is outside the existing periodic table, with a unique electronic resonance structure between the 4d and 5d orbitals. The energy density is two orders of magnitude higher than palladium, and the biocompatibility is perfect. Zero toxicity."

"Have you synthesized it?"

"One step away. The energy level required for synthesis is extremely high; I'm currently retrofitting a particle accelerator in my lab to do it."

"But it's been verified theoretically. As soon as the synthesis is successful, the palladium core of the reactor can be replaced. My poisoning problem will be completely solved."

Lynn nodded.

"Good news heard. What about the proposal?"

Tony leaned forward slightly.

"Fury told me what you did in the Harlem District. Cracking Hydra's mutant serum in twenty minutes—I've seen the molecular configuration data of your reversal agent; it took JARVIS three hours just to verify how you designed that molecule. It was incredibly exquisite."

"Thank you."

"I'm not complimenting you." Tony waved a hand.

"I'm saying—your abilities remind me of someone. Bruce Banner."

"Captain America mentioned him to me as well."

"Then I don't need to waste my breath. You should roughly know about Banner's situation: uncontrollable transformations triggered by gamma rays."

"He's been fighting this problem for several years. He can't fully control the Hulk himself, and every transformation has the potential to cause massive destruction. He's in a lot of pain."

Tony paused.

"To be honest, I wasn't sure if someone at your level could help him. The Hulk's problem isn't a standard medical issue; it's energy modification at the cosmic-ray level. But what you did in Harlem changed my mind."

"You want me to help him control the transformation?"

"Not control. Give him a path. Give him a choice between transforming and not transforming. Right now, he has no choice—he gets angry, he transforms, and once he transforms, he can't stop."

Lynn thought for two seconds.

The Hulk.

A body of gamma radiation.

That level of talent—

"It can be arranged. But Dr. Banner's situation is more complex than anyone else's. I need to perform a complete assessment first, and only after I have all his physical data can I determine if it's treatable and how to treat it."

"I'll give him a call."

"No rush," Lynn said. "I have some things to deal with first. I'll contact him in about one to two weeks."

Tony looked at him. "What things?"

"Upgrading the clinic's security."

"Don't you have S.H.I.E.L.D. covering you?"

"There are some things you can't rely on others for."

Tony didn't press the issue.

He stood up and pushed the paper bag toward Lynn.

"Keep both bottles. Consider it a thank-you gift for helping me find my father's legacy."

"I'll add the consultation fee to the next bill."

"You're really going to charge me?"

"I never work for free."

Tony smiled and shook his head.

He walked to the door and looked back at the interior of the clinic.

"This place has changed quite a bit since I was last here. Did you upgrade the equipment?"

"I modified the things you sent."

"Modified?"

"Performance improved."

Tony stared at him for two seconds.

"Improved by how much?"

"The Quantum Imaging Scanner resolution went from 2.7 nanometers to 1.6 nanometers."

A very subtle expression appeared on Tony's face.

It was the same expression Lynn had seen when they first met—the unique reaction of one genius encountering another.

"You took my twenty-seven-million-dollar equipment and modified it to 1.6-nanometer resolution? That instrument's factory calibration took my engineering team three months—"

"Goodbye, Mr. Stark."