In Marvel with the Force?

The workshop buzzed with energy as Tyr worked tirelessly on the new suit. Sparks flew from his soldering iron as he carefully welded a segment of the chest plate, its angular design coming together piece by piece. The reinforced alloys gleamed under the overhead lights, their dark purple hue giving the armor an otherworldly sheen.

He paused for a moment, wiping sweat from his brow. The suit was coming along well, but the weight of the mountain incident hung heavy in his mind. The school had given everyone a few weeks off to recover, calling it a "wellness break." Tyr almost laughed at the term.

Wellness? How was he supposed to focus on wellness when Jake and Emily were gone, when Oliver was dealing with the impossible truth of what he was, and when the world continued to spiral into chaos?

His hands tightened around the soldering iron as the memories of that day resurfaced. He couldn't bring them back, but he could make damn sure he was ready the next time something like that happened.

He placed the chest plate aside and turned to his sketches for the NerveGear.

The idea had come to him in the quiet hours of the night, a mix of desperation and ambition. He needed money—not just enough to fund his projects but enough to make a real impact. Millions weren't enough. He needed billions.

And the best way to get there? Innovation.

Tyr had spent hours recalling details of the NerveGear from Theon's memories, refining the concept into something he could realistically build. A device like that wouldn't just revolutionize gaming; it could change the way people interacted with technology entirely. The applications were limitless—education, medicine, even military training.

But first, he needed a team.

That morning, Tyr finalized the registration of Helix Studios, his new game development company. He'd spent days researching potential hires, carefully vetting each candidate through anonymous job postings and encrypted interviews. The team he assembled was small but brilliant—artists, coders, engineers—all handpicked for their talent and creativity.

None of them knew who he was.

Tyr insisted on working through a proxy, keeping his identity a secret. He wasn't ready to deal with the scrutiny that would come with being a teenage CEO. Not yet. That could wait until he was eighteen, legally independent, and fully prepared to handle the spotlight.

Until then, he would lead from the shadows.

The contracts he sent out were airtight, loaded with non-disclosure agreements and clauses that ensured complete confidentiality. When the final hire accepted, Tyr leaned back in his chair, a rare smile crossing his face.

Helix Studios was officially in motion.

As the first meetings began to roll out online, Tyr multitasked, his mind split between the suit and another project—the AI that would become Argos.

Argos wasn't functional yet, but Tyr had laid the groundwork for its design: a sophisticated intelligence capable of processing vast amounts of data, analyzing trends, and monitoring global events.

It would be his eyes and ears, his silent partner in the fight ahead.

But Argos needed data, and lots of it.

Tyr spent hours setting up secure systems to hire anonymous hackers, giving them specific tasks to create discreet backdoors in critical data streams—government servers, communication networks, and more. Everything was designed to funnel into Argos once it came online, giving the AI access to a wealth of information.

Late one night, as Tyr fine-tuned Argos's framework, a particular news report caught his attention.

"More mutant disappearances have been reported across the country, with many fearing a coordinated effort to capture and detain them. Officials deny any connection between these incidents and recent military activity."

Tyr's jaw clenched as he scrolled through the accompanying articles. The reports were vague, the details murky, but one name stood out among the chaos: Striker.

His blood ran cold.

The information he uncovered was horrifying. Striker wasn't just capturing mutants—he was experimenting on them, dissecting their DNA in twisted attempts to unlock and replicate their powers.

Tyr's first instinct was to take action, but he knew he couldn't. Striker's operations were too vast, too dangerous for him to tackle alone.

Instead, he turned to the only group he knew could help.

Tyr pulled up the prototype version of Argos, feeding it every scrap of information he could find on Striker. Blueprints of bases, supply chains, personnel lists—he pieced it all together, creating a detailed dossier on the man and his operations.

But there was one problem: Tyr didn't know where the X-Men were.

He thought back to Theon's memories, trying to recall what little he knew about the team. They were a secretive group, operating from the shadows to protect mutants and promote coexistence. But their exact location? That was a mystery.

After hours of research, Tyr finally devised a solution. Using Argos, he created a digital breadcrumb trail—anonymous tips, strategically placed files, and encrypted messages sent to known mutant-friendly networks. The information was impossible to trace back to him, but it was clear enough to lead the X-Men directly to Striker's doorstep.

Tyr leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning the screen. It wasn't perfect, but it was the best he could do for now.

As the prototype AI sent out its final message, Tyr stared at the glowing purple core of his arc reactor prototype, its light casting shadows across the room.

Striker had to be stopped. Jake and Melany's deaths couldn't be for nothing.

And if Tyr had to build an empire to make that happen, so be it.