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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During my slumber, I had visions of my father in his dying state, as well as visions of discovering my powers, and visions of the last moments I had with my family. Throughout these dreams, though, there was my last name ringing continuously. It was until the vision of a Gatling gun firing roused me from my sleep. I found myself in a peculiar position on the bed, with a knife even more strangely placed in my hand. It was Eric who was in front of me, attempting to wake me up. "Wow, you must've had one messed up dream," he talked about my sleeping position and gazed at the knife in my hand.
I promptly placed the knife on the table next to me, confused by how it ended up in my hand. Eric then grabbed the knife and walked across the room to place it gently into a drawer underneath the sink. Though I could not see Eric's face, I knew something was out of place for him, for he worryingly slid his finger across the sink and checked it like an inspector would for dust. I was worried for a second, but the fact that I somehow attained Eric's knife in my sleep concerned me even more.
I thought about how my dreams might have overwhelmed me in my sleep, therefore making me use my powers blindly to obtain the knife. Though I was yet to use my powers for a whole day, I was already terrified of my hidden capabilities and, as Eric said, potential, as for all I knew, I could make the building collapse with just a click of a finger.
"For a guy who wriggles around a lot, you don't do a lot of snoring," Eric stated, after analyzing the scarceness of dust, due to my cleaning it from the bloodstains. His tone of voice and mannerisms seemed to be hinting at something that could have potentially blew my cover, but then he evaded his suspicions as he moved onto another topic, "As promised," he reached into his pocket and pulled out a penny.
A grin instantly spread across my relieved face, until Eric threw it towards me. "Catch," he warned, to which I shielded myself using the blanket, for I did not want to go through the experience of having my body crammed into a penny again, after recently being fitted into a bullet. Though it was not likely I would have to relive that experience again, I did not want to take my chances.
"No," I yelled abruptly, to Eric at least.
"What the hell?" he said, skeptical of what just happened.
"Sorry, I just had a bad dream," I made up a reason for why I was frightened of a small penny. I was lucky for Eric to be naïve enough to believe me at the time, otherwise his suspicions would grow like a cancer.
"If you had a dream on your first day here that has made you scared of a penny, I doubt you will last a day in the gang, but you made it this far, so congratulations, I guess," Eric remarked, to which I said nothing. He then changed the subject, "Anyway, I analyzed the coin and found a DNA sample of yours, as well as a lady who I assume is your mother." He grabbed his phone from one of the inside pockets of his jacket and showed me an unrecognizable woman, who I was definite was not my mother, unless she had a plastic surgery.
