In Marvel with the Force?

Question of the day: The power to end all wars or the power of Vector manipulation?

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A week had passed since Tyr's 'tense' confrontation with the Ancient One, and while he had outwardly calmed, the anger burned quietly beneath the surface. He threw himself into his work, training until his muscles screamed, pushing his telekinesis to its limits, and experimenting with the capabilities of his Force-enhanced body.

But no amount of exertion could completely extinguish the fire within him.

The only moments of reprieve came during his encounters with Elizabeth. She had a knack for distracting him, pulling him into conversations that forced him to focus on something other than his spiraling thoughts. Her persistence was both endearing and irritating, but Tyr found himself looking forward to their meetings in the park.

"Good company," she called him. The thought made him smirk despite himself.

Back at the workshop, Argos's emblem flickered to life on the monitor as Tyr sat before it, his expression grim.

"Argos," he began, his voice steady but laced with tension. "I want everything—everything—you can find on Wilson Fisk."

"Wilson Fisk, alias Kingpin," Argos confirmed. "New York-based crime lord with extensive influence in both legitimate and criminal enterprises. Processing available data... This will take time, as Fisk's operations are notoriously well-shielded."

"Take the time you need," Tyr said, his tone cold. "But I want results. Every detail, every connection, every safehouse—anything that leads me to him."

Argos hesitated briefly, then replied, "Acknowledged. May I ask the intended objective of this search?"

Tyr leaned back, his eyes narrowing. "Let's just say... it's not going to end well for him."

The room fell silent for a moment as Argos continued processing data. Then Tyr tapped a pen against the edge of his desk, breaking the stillness.

"And one more thing," he said. "I want you to design a suit."

"For you?" Argos inquired.

"No," Tyr said, shaking his head. "For Daredevil. Something simple—no tech. Just durable, flexible, and suited for close combat. He's out there fighting, and if we're both working toward cleaning up the city, I figure he could use an upgrade."

"Understood," Argos replied. "Designing parameters set. I will present prototypes for your approval."

Tyr exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair. The flickering glow of the monitors filled the room, but his mind was elsewhere. The idea of Fisk's empire being dismantled, piece by piece, was both satisfying and necessary.

"One step closer," he thought. "One less shadow in this city."

A sudden chime from the doorbell broke his focus.

Frowning, Tyr stood and made his way to the front of the workshop. He rarely received visitors, and deliveries were even more unusual. When he opened the door, he found a plain brown package sitting on the stoop, no delivery person in sight.

Tyr picked it up cautiously, his senses flaring. There was no detectable energy signature or sign of tampering, but something about the package felt... off.

He carried it inside and placed it on the workbench. Argos's emblem flickered as the AI scanned the package.

"No harmful compounds detected," Argos reported. "However, I am unable to analyze any non-conventional properties."

"Non-conventional," Tyr muttered. "Great."

Opening the package, Tyr found a small, intricately carved amulet nestled inside. It was shaped like a circular disc, its surface etched with swirling patterns that seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light. Alongside the amulet was a handwritten note.

Tyr picked up the note, his eyes narrowing as he read the words:

"This amulet resonated in your presence. Guess it chose you. Be careful—it's called the Amulet of Hoggoth, and it will protect you from mystical and magical attacks. Use it wisely. By—you know who."

The handwriting was elegant but unrecognizable. However, the phrasing left no doubt as to its origin.

"The Ancient One," Tyr muttered, his voice tinged with irritation. He set the note aside, staring at the amulet.

The object radiated an undeniable presence, a faint warmth that he could feel even without touching it. It was subtle, but it made his Force Sense hum faintly, like a distant vibration he couldn't quite pinpoint.

Argos's voice broke the silence. "Analysis of the amulet yields no identifiable energy signature. It appears to operate beyond the parameters of scientific detection."

"Magic," Tyr said flatly, his lips curling into a frown.

"Correct," Argos replied. "My systems cannot quantify or interact with magical phenomena. However, I can confirm that the amulet does not pose an immediate threat to you."

"Comforting," Tyr said sarcastically.

He picked up the amulet, turning it over in his hands. Its intricate carvings seemed to shift slightly as he examined them, almost as if alive.

"Why send this to me?" he muttered to himself. "What's the angle?"

The Ancient One's words echoed in his mind: "You do not yet understand your power."

Tyr's grip tightened around the amulet as frustration bubbled to the surface. He hated feeling like a pawn in someone else's game, hated the idea that his life was being manipulated by forces beyond his control.

But if the amulet could protect him, it was better to have it than not.

He slipped the chain over his head, letting the amulet rest against his chest. It felt oddly comforting, the faint warmth seeping into his skin.

"Argos," he said after a moment. "Keep this on record. If this thing acts up, I want it logged."

"Acknowledged," Argos replied.

Tyr sat back down at the workbench, his thoughts racing. Between Fisk, the Ancient One's cryptic warnings, and his own unresolved rage, the path ahead felt more uncertain than ever.

But as he looked at the amulet, a new determination sparked within him.

"If they want me to figure out my power," he muttered, "then I'll figure it out. On my terms."