Cracks in the Armor

The dim light of the workshop illuminated Tyr's face, his helmet resting on the table before him. Blood still stained the edges of his armor, though most of it had been scrubbed away. He sat slumped in his chair, staring at the glowing monitors displaying headlines from various news outlets:

"Wilson Fisk Dead: The Reign of the Kingpin Ends in Brutality!" "The Violet Wolf Returns: Justice or Vigilante Terror?" "Crime Syndicates in Chaos as Power Struggle Ensues"

The public reaction was split. Some saw him as a savior, a necessary evil in a corrupt city. Others called him a monster, no better than the criminals he hunted.

Argos's emblem pulsed softly on the monitor.

"Tyr," the AI began, its voice steady but tinged with something that almost sounded like concern. "We need to talk about Fisk."

Tyr didn't look up. "What about him?"

"The methods you employed," Argos said carefully, "were... extreme. Torture. Execution. These are actions that cannot be undone."

Tyr scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "He deserved worse."

"Perhaps," Argos replied, its tone neutral. "But the path you are walking is dangerous. Your choices are becoming more reactionary—driven by rage rather than strategy."

Tyr's eyes narrowed as he finally met the glowing emblem. "Don't lecture me, Argos. I did what needed to be done. Fisk was a plague on this city, and now he's gone."

"And what did it cost you?" Argos asked.

The question hung in the air, cutting deeper than Tyr expected. He clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. "I don't need this from you," he muttered.

But Argos pressed on. "You've always justified your actions as necessary for the greater good. But this... this was personal. And it is eroding the principles that set you apart from the people you fight."

Tyr stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "What do you want me to say, Argos? That I regret it? That I wish I'd shown mercy to a monster who ruined lives for profit?" He gestured to the headlines on the monitors. "Look at the chaos he left behind. Killing him wasn't just right—it was necessary."

Argos paused before responding. "And yet, you hesitate when you look at those screens. I detect fluctuations in your breathing, signs of stress. Guilt, even."

Tyr froze for a moment, his facade cracking ever so slightly.

"I'm fine," he said curtly, turning away.

But he wasn't fine, and both he and Argos knew it.

As Tyr moved to the other side of the workshop, Argos's voice followed him. "The public perception of your actions is mixed. For every person who praises your efforts, there are those who fear what you've become. The line between hero and villain is growing thinner."

Tyr spun around, his eyes blazing with frustration. "I'm not a hero, Argos. I never claimed to be. I'm just doing what needs to be done because no one else will."

"And yet, you called yourself a protector," Argos countered. "Do you protect, or do you destroy?"

The words stung more than Tyr cared to admit. He clenched his fists, his mind flashing back to Fisk's bloodied face, the man's screams of pain and eventual pleas for mercy.

"Do you protect, or do you destroy?"

He shook his head, trying to banish the thought. "Enough," he said, his voice quieter but no less firm. "I made my choice. If you're so worried about me losing control, then keep doing your job. Watch me. Stop me if you think I go too far."

There was a pause before Argos replied. "As you wish, Tyr."

The tension in the room lingered as Tyr returned to his seat. He stared at the headlines again, his mind racing.

Fisk's death had thrown the criminal underworld into chaos. Rival families were scrambling to seize power, their operations spilling into the streets.

Tyr watched footage of skirmishes between factions, the violence threatening to engulf entire neighborhoods. He tapped his fingers against the table, debating his next move.

"Should I let them tear each other apart?" he muttered to himself. "Or step in before the city burns?"

"You cannot solve every problem through violence," Argos said.

Tyr sighed, rubbing his temples. "I know that, Argos. But I also know that if I do nothing, innocent people will suffer."

Before he could make a decision, one of the monitors flickered, displaying a grainy surveillance image. A figure stood in the shadows, observing one of Fisk's former strongholds as it erupted into chaos.

The figure's outline was sharp and lean, their posture relaxed but predatory.

"Who's that?" Tyr asked, leaning closer.

Argos's emblem pulsed. "Unknown. They have appeared near several recent incidents involving Fisk's former operations. I have no data on their identity or affiliation."

Tyr frowned, his instincts flaring. "Looks like someone's taking advantage of the chaos."

"Possibly," Argos agreed. "Shall I prioritize monitoring their movements?"

"Yeah," Tyr said, his eyes narrowing. "Whoever they are, I want to know what they're after."

As the monitor returned to its previous feed, Tyr leaned back in his chair, his thoughts heavy.

The lines between right and wrong, hero and villain, were blurring faster than he could process. And while he had always walked in the shadows, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was slipping deeper into darkness.

For now, all he could do was wait and watch.