In Marvel with the Force?

The clang of metal echoed through the warehouse as Tyr adjusted a set of weights on a barbell. Across the room, Oliver stood panting on a padded mat, his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

"Stop, stop, timeout!" Oliver yelled, holding up a hand in surrender. His voice was ragged, and beads of sweat rolled down his face.

Tyr, standing a few feet away, raised an eyebrow. His black training gear was pristine compared to Oliver's sweat-soaked shirt. "Come on, it's barely been twenty minutes."

"Barely?" Oliver wheezed, glaring at Tyr. "I feel like I've been hit by a truck."

Tyr smirked, tossing him a water bottle. "That's the point."

---

They had been at it for days—grueling training sessions designed to push Oliver to his limits. After weeks of testing, they had confirmed the basics of his mutant ability: kinetic absorption. His body could absorb the impact of physical blows, turning what would be bone-breaking hits into something survivable.

But there was a problem.

While Oliver's ability kept him from sustaining serious injuries, it didn't stop him from feeling pain. A punch to the gut still left him gasping for air, and a solid kick still made him double over.

"I'm not saying you need to turn into a masochist," Tyr had told him when they started. "But if you want to fight back, you need to build up your pain tolerance. Otherwise, you'll be useless in a real fight."

Oliver had reluctantly agreed, and now, several days into their training regimen, he was starting to regret it.

---

Tyr took a step closer, crossing his arms as he watched Oliver recover. "Alright, let's try again. I'll go easy this time."

Oliver shot him a glare. "Your idea of 'easy' is my idea of hell."

"Pain builds character," Tyr said with a smirk.

"Pain builds resentment," Oliver muttered under his breath, but he straightened up and got back into position.

Tyr lunged forward, delivering a calculated jab to Oliver's shoulder. Oliver grunted, his body absorbing the blow, but the wince on his face told Tyr that it still hurt.

"Focus," Tyr said, circling him like a predator. "Feel the energy as it flows through you. Don't fight it—redirect it."

Oliver nodded, gritting his teeth as Tyr landed another punch, this time to his ribs. He staggered but stayed on his feet, his breath coming in short bursts.

"Good," Tyr said. "Now, let's up the pace."

---

For the next half hour, the warehouse was filled with the sounds of grunts, groans, and the occasional shout of pain as Tyr methodically worked Oliver over. The blows were controlled—never enough to cause real harm—but relentless enough to push him to his limit.

By the end of the session, Oliver was sprawled on the mat, his chest heaving as he stared up at the ceiling. "I hate you," he mumbled.

"No, you don't," Tyr said, offering him a hand.

Oliver took it begrudgingly, letting Tyr pull him to his feet. "Are you sure you don't have super strength?" he asked, wincing as he rubbed his shoulder. "Because it sure feels like it."

Tyr shook his head. "No super strength. Just the strength of a top-tier athlete." He flexed his fingers, his tone turning smug. "It's all hard work and discipline."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "You sound like a motivational poster."

"Better than sounding like a quitter," Tyr shot back.

Oliver chuckled weakly, shaking his head. "Whatever, Mr. Perfect. I'm taking a shower before you come up with another sadistic drill."

---

After Oliver left, Tyr turned his attention to the sleek console sitting on his workbench. The glowing purple emblem of Argos flickered to life as Tyr approached, casting a faint light across the room.

"Argos," Tyr said, leaning forward. "Run an evaluation on Oliver based on today's training."

"Working," the AI responded, its voice smooth and precise.

Lines of data scrolled across the screen as Argos processed footage from the session. Tyr watched intently, his mind already running through potential adjustments to their training regimen.

---

"Subject: Oliver," Argos began, its synthesized voice breaking the silence. "Ability: Kinetic energy absorption. Observation: Subject demonstrates high resilience to physical impacts but experiences significant pain during absorption."

Tyr nodded. "And the limits? What's his capacity?"

"Unknown," Argos replied. "Data suggests the subject has yet to reach maximum absorption threshold. Further testing required."

Tyr frowned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "And release? Any signs of an output mechanism?"

"Negative," Argos said. "Subject's ability appears limited to absorption at this stage. Potential for energy release is theoretical but unconfirmed."

Tyr sighed, leaning back in his chair. "So, we're still in the dark on that front."

"Affirmative," Argos replied.

Tyr stared at the screen for a moment, his mind racing. If Oliver's power had an offensive application—if he could release the energy he absorbed—it could turn him into a formidable ally. But until they figured out how to trigger it, he was essentially a punching bag with a pain tolerance problem.

---

A faint sound pulled Tyr from his thoughts. He turned to see Oliver walking back into the room, a towel slung over his shoulder.

"Still talking to your fancy computer?" Oliver asked, raising an eyebrow.

Tyr shrugged casually. "Just reviewing the session. Nothing major."

Oliver snorted. "You're such a nerd."

"And you're a slacker," Tyr shot back.

Oliver grinned, shaking his head. "Whatever, man. Thanks for helping me out with this... stuff. I don't know what I'd do without it."

Tyr's expression softened slightly. "You're welcome. Just remember, this isn't about making you like me. It's about making you the best version of yourself."

Oliver rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, yeah. Save the inspirational speech for someone who cares."

As Oliver grabbed his bag and headed for the door, Tyr turned back to Argos, his mind already racing with ideas for the next session.

---

Later that night, as the workshop fell silent, Tyr sat alone at his workbench, staring at the glowing emblem of Argos.

"Run simulations," he said quietly. "Let's see if we can figure out how to trigger an energy release."

The AI processed the command, its emblem pulsing faintly.

Tyr leaned back in his chair, his mind swimming with possibilities. If they could unlock Oliver's full potential, it could change everything.

But for now, all he could do was wait.