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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I wake up in a daze, bright eyed and dizzy. I hear the clicking and rumbling of a train, as well as the mumbling of people around me. At first, I thought I was in a public area where the hooligans probably dumped me but I did not just hear a train. I was on a train. Being more frantic than cardiograph scratching out lines, I scanned the area like a radar dish to see where I was, but once I saw two teens in the same black leather jackets as the ones from the diner, I thought to myself, oh no.
One of them spotted my being awake and informed the other, only for him to comment, "Holy shit."
"Is that supposed to happen?" his question made me look at myself in search for any abnormalities to my appearance, but there was nothing wrong. I even had a reflective surface to check my face and nothing was shifty.
"We should bring him to Eric," the other one replied gravely. This 'Eric' was mentioned again which made me presume that he, or even she, was a significant figure to these people. The other nodded in assent to his plan, and then they grabbed both of my arms to lift me up.
I was too much in shock to continue moving or saying anything with my loud mouth that led to my ass being on this train in the first place, so I had a mellow attitude and let them carry me. As I was literally dragged throughout the train and its carriages, I soon figured that this was a freight train, but then I saw the other passengers, which triggered my doubts.
Judging by the same clothes and facial expressions, I figured quickly that they were the same hooligans as the ones in the diner, only with the trait of docility and without the cigarettes. I did not mind them, heck, I was not even embarrassed having myself being carried by the two, for there was no one to be humiliated in front of. The reason being that a juvenile delinquent did not exactly have its merits to be proud of.
There were large and medium sized crates with a red long sign or logo, which confused me as I failed to judge whether or not I was on a freight train. It was too blurry for me for some reason, and my eyes failed to focus before I was carried to the next carriage where I saw even more crates and machinery everywhere on the train. Though I was unable to focus my eyes on the red font, my vision stopped being hazy in time for me to visit what was an engineer's heaven in that carriage. With all those variants of technology, I was made to wonder what were underneath the boxes in the last carriage.
There was a robotic arm, which was working on most convoluted of circuit boards; a mechanical box, which contained a laser like substance; and an electronic machine, which looked like a mini power grid, fitted into a rectangle platform that could cover the body of a human. Alas, that mini power grid turned out to be a diagram, and although it was detailed and would look stunning at any museum, it was a disappointment when compared to all the other contraptions available to the eye.
The more and more I stared at all the mechanical doohickeys, I eventually realized how neat and tidy the carriages were, let alone the entire train. With a train like this, how could the two juveniles, who were also most likely orphans as well, be able to slide my lame body with their dirty shoes without owning the place? I knew that there was no way in hell that they owned this train, as it was just far too neat for a criminal youth group to own and maintain such sanitation and neatness, but I failed to think of another theory.
