The television in the corner of a small diner crackled faintly, catching the attention of the handful of patrons seated at the counter. The screen displayed the face of a news anchor, her expression serious but laced with a tinge of incredulity.
"Good morning, New York," she began, her tone steady. "Our top story today: the mysterious vigilante known as the Black Wolf has struck again, this time delivering a decisive blow to one of the most powerful crime families in the city."
The screen cut to grainy footage of the aftermath: police officers swarming the remains of a warehouse, dragging out crates of weapons, drugs, and stolen goods.
"In what can only be described as a calculated and methodical attack, the Black Wolf dismantled Silvermane's entire operation overnight. Not only was the mob boss himself taken down, but law enforcement sources confirm that the vigilante left behind detailed evidence implicating the organization in numerous illegal activities, ranging from human trafficking to arms dealing."
The image shifted to a press conference, where a man in a neatly pressed suit and NYPD badge stood at a podium. Commissioner Randall Kline, the head of the department, adjusted his tie as reporters shouted questions.
One voice rose above the others: "Commissioner, what's the department's stance on the Black Wolf?"
Kline raised a hand, his expression caught between amusement and exasperation. "Look, let me be clear. The Black Wolf has done a lot of good—uncovering evidence, taking down operations that would have taken us years to dismantle. For that, we're... well, we're grateful."
The reporters buzzed with murmurs as Kline continued.
"But," he added, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, "I'd be lying if I said we weren't a little concerned about the, uh... bone-breaking aspect of his methods. I'm not saying we condone vigilante justice, but maybe the Wolf could dial it down a notch?"
The room chuckled softly, but Kline's tone grew serious. "That said, vigilantism is still illegal. If the Black Wolf wants to truly help the city, my advice would be to come forward and work with us directly. My door's always open."
The broadcast cut back to the anchor.
"Despite the commissioner's invitation, there has been no indication that the Black Wolf plans to reveal his identity. In the meantime, the city remains divided, with some hailing the vigilante as a hero and others questioning the legality—and morality—of his actions."
The camera shifted again, this time to a man on the street holding a bag of groceries. "The Wolf's doing what the cops can't," he said with a shrug. "Long as he keeps the bad guys off the streets, I'm all for it."
Another woman, standing with her young daughter, looked less convinced. "It's dangerous," she said, shaking her head. "What if he gets the wrong person? Or worse—what if someone innocent gets hurt?"
The broadcast continued, but Tyr had heard enough.
--
He switched off the small TV in his workshop, leaning back in his chair. The broadcast had been... interesting.
The city was abuzz with talk of the Black Wolf after his takedown of Silvermane's empire. Tyr's evidence had been meticulously compiled, ensuring that the police couldn't ignore it. Every shipment, every bribe, every dirty deal had been laid bare, leaving no room for the remaining members of Silvermane's organization to wiggle free.
Still, Kline's comments lingered in his mind.
"Dial it down," Tyr muttered to himself, echoing the commissioner's words. "Yeah, sure, I'll just politely ask criminals to turn themselves in next time."
He smirked, but the thought of turning himself in—or working directly with the police—was laughable. As much as Kline seemed like a decent guy, the system he represented was flawed, bogged down by bureaucracy and corruption. Tyr's methods might be unorthodox, but they were effective.
---
The workshop buzzed faintly with activity as Tyr returned to his workbench. His steel blade lay beside him, still bearing the scratches from his fight with Silvermane. He ran a finger along its edge, thinking about the next steps.
The takedown of Silvermane had been a major victory, but it was only the beginning. Other crime families would see the power vacuum left in his wake, and it wouldn't be long before they tried to fill it.
Tyr leaned forward, sketching designs for new equipment in his notebook. He couldn't afford to get complacent. Silvermane had been a test of his limits, and while he had emerged victorious, it was clear that there were gaps in his strategy.
---
As he worked, Finn walked into the workshop, holding two steaming mugs of coffee.
"Heard you made the news again," Finn said, setting one of the mugs on Tyr's desk.
"Yeah," Tyr replied without looking up. "They seem pretty divided about whether I'm a hero or a menace."
Finn chuckled, sitting down across from him. "Ain't that always the way? People love the results, but they hate the methods."
Tyr finally looked up, his expression thoughtful. "Do you think they're right? That I'm too... harsh?"
Finn leaned back, taking a sip of his coffee. "Kid, you're doing what you think is right. Sometimes that means breaking a few bones. Hell, if you didn't, half those thugs would be back on the streets the next day."
"But?" Tyr prompted, sensing the hesitation in Finn's voice.
Finn sighed. "But you've got to remember that you're human, Tyr. You're not some... invincible god. If you keep pushing like this, one day you're gonna push too far."
Tyr nodded slowly, the words sinking in. "I'll keep that in mind."
"You'd better," Finn said, standing up. "Now, finish your coffee before it gets cold. You've got work to do."
Tyr watched as the older man left, a small smile playing on his lips. Finn was right—there was still a lot of work to be done.
---
As the city continued to buzz with news of the Black Wolf, Tyr remained focused. The broadcast had only reinforced his determination to protect New York, no matter the cost.
Because in the end, it wasn't about being a hero or a menace. It was about making the city a better place for Finn, one takedown at a time.