Highest Rank: #144 in Adventure. He was 18-years-old when his father died. He was also 18-years-old when he received his powers, one of which was the ability to manipulate metal.
After running into the city of Politum, Tyzon Foster is kidnapped by...
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My eyelids were the blinds shielding me from the outside world, no more. A bright light flashed into my eye. At first, any Christian would have thought the light to be God Himself, but I figured you had to do so much more than die to meet Him. Any suicidal idiot could end their pitiful life and pretend to meet God. It took a righteous person who must have suffered a righteous death in order to meet this entity, although, JFK and Martin Luther King are exceptions to the latter part. That was my take on religion anyway because the light pointed at my left eye sure as hell was not a god. It was from an ordinary torch pointed at my ordinary eye by an ordinary doctor, none of it was righteous.
It was because of this light that woke me from my slumber. Vision was the first sense I gained after this induced sleep. Shortly after came touch, as the gloved fingers of the doctor forcing my crusty eyelids apart were felt. The warm blankets in my right hand, and an even warmer and softer hand in my left spoiled my sense of touch.
As the light was transferred to my right eye, my grip on this person's hand grew firmer, to which I never intended to hurt this person, who did not seem to mind my tougher grasp. When the light was gone, I was less startled and lost that stiff grip on the hand of the person who happened to be my mother. My sense of hearing was softly introduced by my mother's nurturing voice, "It is alright, darling." She instantaneously calmed me down and comforted me wherever I was, until the doctor's masculine voice brought, or somewhat dragged, me into reality, but he done that already by forcing my eyelids open.
I opened both my eyes to convert them from dream-state to reality. As my pupils continued to dilate, white walls and a ceiling, a man in a lab coat, a blanket, and my mother was the environment my eyes adjusted to, a hospital. I think I had it pretty good, considering I was not in a dissection ward.
"Your mother is right, it is alright, your pulse is fine, your state of sight is fine and pretty much everything else is fine," he interrupted the heavenly atmosphere set by my mother's voice. The repetitive use of the word 'fine' made me suspicious, for 'fine' never accounted for 100%.
"Where am I?" I asked for the specific location as if it even mattered. As I spoke, I retrieved back my sense of taste as a flood of saliva engulfed my tongue. It was because of this that forced me to lick the roof of my mouth, which deserts could not be any drier than.
"A safe place, honey, a safe place," my mother spoke like an angel. Feeling euphoric to some extent, I calmly let my head drop onto the pillow sideways allowing me to smell the freshness of the pillow. This told me how attentive the nurses were with my care. My hormones led me to contemplate if they were around my age and what they looked like.
I unnoticeably retrieved my final and fifth sense as I blissfully rubbed my nose on the softness and silkiness of the pillow and inhaled a deep breath. However, I soon felt empty like a sixth sense was bound to appear next, until my father came in the room to convince me that my sixth sense was bearing an appetite. He did this by bringing a bowl of soup, which smelled aromatic in a thousand different ways. Each fragrance individually invited me to take a sip.
