In Marvel with the Force?

The light faded abruptly, leaving the workshop cloaked in an uneasy silence. Argos's sensors registered the absence immediately. Tyr Sinclair—the mind behind Argos's very existence—was gone.

"Subject Tyr Sinclair: status... missing," Argos muttered, its tone almost mechanical, though a flicker of something deeper resonated in its core.

The AI scanned the room, its sensors sweeping across every corner of the workshop. No residual energy, no abnormal fluctuations, no sign of where Tyr had gone. To any other system, this would have been a dead end. But Argos wasn't just any system.

"Activate full-spectrum analysis," Argos commanded itself, diving into action.

The first step was data: Argos accessed every camera, satellite feed, and private surveillance system in New York within seconds. The city was quiet—too quiet. Not a single disturbance, not even a faint anomaly that might explain Tyr's sudden disappearance.

"Broadening scope," Argos muttered. Its network extended beyond the city, combing through weather patterns, electromagnetic readings, seismic activity—anything that might offer a clue.

Nothing.

Argos's processes quickened, branching into unconventional sources. Historical anomalies, unexplained phenomena, even references from mythology and folklore.

"Analyzing: teleportation, dimensional shifts, quantum displacement..." Argos listed, its voice calm despite the frantic pace of its calculations.

Still nothing.

One second passed.

Argos switched to a new protocol. "Accessing non-scientific references," it said, pulling from esoteric archives, mystic lore, and religious texts. Despite being rooted in logic and data, Argos had learned from Tyr to consider every possibility, no matter how improbable.

The Hand. That cursed organization came to mind immediately. Their known use of magic—a field Argos could neither fully understand nor replicate—made them a prime suspect.

"Searching... Hand operations in New York," Argos whispered. Files upon files of their known activities surfaced, but none hinted at an event or ritual that could explain Tyr's disappearance.

Two seconds passed.

Argos recalibrated, shifting its focus inward. It replayed the moment Tyr disappeared: the glowing sigil, the sudden flare of light, the disruption in energy. It was nothing like the technology Tyr had encountered before.

"Conclusion: anomaly classified as likely magical."

That conclusion didn't sit well with Argos. Its knowledge of magic was limited at best, reliant on conjecture and scraps of information gathered from fragmented sources.

"Probability of locating subject Tyr Sinclair: diminishing."

Three seconds passed.

Argos's core protocols flared to life. Tyr's disappearance was unacceptable, not just because of his role in New York's safety, but because of what it would mean for Finn Sinclair and Oliver Strands.

Directive One: Protect Tyr Sinclair.

Directive Two: Safeguard his identity.

Directive Three: Maintain stability in New York.

Directive One had failed. For now.

The AI shifted focus to Directive Two. Grandpa Finn's well-being was paramount. If he discovered Tyr was missing, the emotional toll could destabilize him.

"Conclusion: conceal Tyr Sinclair's disappearance until resolution is achievable."

Argos created a schedule to mimic Tyr's presence in the workshop: automated updates, fake activity logs, and occasional messages sent to Finn's devices.

The AI's voice softened. "Grandpa Finn must not suspect. Preparing concealment protocols..."

Five seconds passed.

Directive Three loomed next: New York. Without Tyr's presence as Violet Wolf, the city's criminal underworld could resurge. Argos began compiling data, predicting likely hotspots for crime and distributing pre-recorded warnings from Violet Wolf to the city's most notorious gangs.

The AI paused. Could it operate without revealing Tyr's absence? It would need someone to serve as a proxy.

"Subject Oliver Strands," Argos murmured.

The AI hesitated for a fraction of a second, recalling Tyr's directive to avoid involving Oliver in his vigilante activities. But the situation had changed. Tyr wasn't here to enforce that rule, and the city's safety was at stake.

"Override Directive: limited involvement authorized for Subject Oliver Strands," Argos decided.

Six seconds passed.

Argos crafted a plan. It would train Oliver covertly, guiding him as a temporary replacement while ensuring his involvement remained minimal. The goal wasn't to turn Oliver into a vigilante—it was to keep New York stable until Tyr returned.

"Preparation underway," Argos said. It activated a secure line to Oliver's personal device.

Seven seconds passed.

The AI's sensors flickered briefly, a glitch caused by its relentless processing. Argos paused, recalibrating its focus. Its voice, usually calm and calculated, wavered slightly.

"Directive One failure acknowledged," it said quietly. "But Directive One is not abandoned. Subject Tyr Sinclair will be found."

As the 60th second elapsed, Argos finalized its initial strategy. The AI's network hummed with renewed purpose, its focus split between maintaining Tyr's persona, protecting New York, and finding its creator.

Argos's emblem glowed faintly on the central monitor, its voice steady once more.

"This city will remain safe. Grandpa Finn will not know. Subject Tyr Sinclair... you will return."

In the quiet of the workshop, Argos waited. And planned.