In Marvel with the Force?

Tyr sat cross-legged on the cold concrete floor of Finn's storage room, his violet eyes focused intently on the wrenchs lying in front of him. His breathing was steady, his mind clear. Slowly, he raised a hand, willing the wrenches to rise.

At first, nothing happened. Then, with a faint tremor, the wrenches began to lift off the ground, wobbling slightly as it hovered a few inches in the air. Sweat beaded on Tyr's forehead as he concentrated, holding the objects steady for a few moments before letting them drop with a dull clatter.

He exhaled sharply, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. "Five kilograms," he muttered to himself. "That's the limit for now."

Tyr leaned back against the wall, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. His telekinesis was improving, but it wasn't enough. The precise control he had over small objects was useful for delicate tasks—like picking locks or disarming traps—but in a fight, he needed more raw power.

He clenched his fists, replaying his encounter with TOAA in his mind. The being's warning about his vigilante activities had left him uneasy, but Tyr couldn't ignore the growing pull to do something.

The streets of the city weren't safe—Finn had told him as much. Small businesses like his were struggling under the weight of extortion, robberies, and worse. Tyr had already seen it firsthand.

"Be careful," Tyr murmured, repeating TOAA's words. He shook his head. "Yeah, well, someone has to do something."

---

Later that evening, Tyr helped Finn close up the shop. The night was cool, the streetlights casting long shadows over the quiet neighborhood. Finn locked the front door and pocketed the keys, letting out a tired sigh.

"Everything alright?" Tyr asked, noticing the tension in Finn's expression.

Finn nodded but didn't look at him. "Yeah, just... been hearing things. Some of the other shop owners are saying there's been a lot more trouble lately. Break-ins, robberies... you name it."

Tyr frowned. "Anything specific?"

"Not yet," Finn replied, his voice low. "But it's only a matter of time before they come here. Places like this are easy targets."

Tyr's jaw tightened. The thought of someone targeting Finn—one of the few people who had shown him kindness—lit a fire in his chest.

"I'll keep an eye out," Tyr said.

Finn glanced at him, his eyes narrowing. "You're not thinking of doing something stupid, are you?"

Tyr forced a small smile. "Just looking out for you, Finn. That's all."

Finn didn't seem convinced, but he didn't push the issue. "Well, don't get yourself hurt. I don't need to be worrying about you on top of everything else."

---

That night, Tyr couldn't sleep. He lay on the cot in the storage room, staring at the ceiling as his mind raced.

Finn's words echoed in his ears, blending with TOAA's cryptic warnings and his own growing sense of responsibility. He thought about the children at the orphanage, about how powerless he had felt when Hydra had taken everything from them.

"I won't let that happen again," Tyr said quietly, his voice firm.

He sat up, grabbing a notebook and a pencil from the cluttered desk in the corner. Flipping to a blank page, he began to sketch, his hand moving with practiced ease.

The first design was crude, more of a concept than a plan. A device that could allow him to stay in the air—something that could give him an advantage in a fight or help him escape if things went south.

"Staying on the ground makes me a target," Tyr muttered as he worked. "I need to be mobile. Agile."

His mind raced with possibilities. Propulsion systems, lightweight materials, power sources... The ideas came faster than he could sketch them. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but the challenge only fueled his determination.

For now, though, it was just a blueprint. He didn't have the resources to build it—yet.

---

The following day, Tyr decided to take action. If Finn's shop was in danger, he needed to know who was responsible.

Using the small surveillance devices he had built—a network of motion-triggered cameras disguised as harmless debris—Tyr began scouting the neighborhood. He set them up in alleys, near abandoned buildings, and in other places where criminal activity was likely to occur.

It didn't take long to find something.

Through one of the cameras, Tyr spotted a group of men loitering near a boarded-up warehouse. They were rough-looking, their voices low and threatening as they discussed their plans.

"Hit the corner store tomorrow night," one of them said, his tone casual. "Place is an easy mark. No cameras, no security."

Tyr's blood boiled. He recognized the description immediately—it was Finn's shop.

---

That night, Tyr prepared carefully. He packed a small bag with his defensive gadgets: tasers, smoke bombs, and reinforced tools that could double as weapons. His hands trembled slightly as he tightened the straps, but he forced himself to stay calm.

"This is just recon," he told himself. "Get in, get information, and get out. No heroics."

But deep down, he knew it wouldn't be that simple.

---

The warehouse was quiet when Tyr arrived, its broken windows and rusted exterior giving it an air of abandonment. He slipped inside through a side entrance, keeping to the shadows as he moved through the dimly lit space.

The men were gathered around a table in the center of the room, their voices carrying in the stillness.

"Store should be empty by ten," one of them said. "Just grab what we can and go. No need to stick around."

"What about the old guy?" another asked.

"Won't be a problem. If he gives us trouble, we'll deal with him."

Tyr's grip on the taser in his hand tightened. He could feel the anger rising in his chest, hot and unrelenting.

'Not on my watch,' he thought.

He moved closer, careful not to make a sound. When he was within striking distance, he pulled a smoke bomb from his bag and rolled it toward the group.

The device hissed as it activated, filling the room with thick, choking smoke. The men shouted in confusion, stumbling over each other as they tried to find the source.

Tyr struck quickly, taking down the first man with a swift blow to the back of the head. The second swung wildly in the smoke, but Tyr ducked beneath the attack and jabbed him with the taser. The man collapsed with a grunt, his body convulsing.

The third man managed to catch sight of Tyr through the smoke and charged at him, a knife gleaming in his hand. Tyr sidestepped at the last moment, grabbing the man's arm and twisting it behind his back. The knife clattered to the ground, and Tyr delivered a hard kick to the back of the man's knee, sending him sprawling.

Within minutes, it was over.

Tyr stood in the center of the room, his chest heaving as the smoke began to clear. The men lay unconscious around him, their weapons scattered on the ground.

He stared down at them, his mind racing. This wasn't like the fight in the alley. These men had been planning to hurt Finn—someone he cared about. The thought made his blood boil.

But he forced himself to walk away. Killing them wouldn't solve anything…

---

When Tyr returned to Finn's shop the next morning, he felt a strange mix of triumph and unease. He hadn't told Finn about his activities, and he wasn't planning to.

As Finn handed him a cup of coffee, he gave Tyr a curious look. "You alright, kid? You seem... different."

Tyr shrugged, taking a sip. "Just thinking about the future," he said simply.

Finn nodded, a small smile playing at his lips. "Well, whatever it is, I hope it's good."

Tyr glanced out the window at the bustling street beyond. His thoughts drifted to the blueprint tucked away in the storage room and the growing list of ideas in his notebook.

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He's not a Batman wanna be...

I think