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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Searching for an adequate exit, I ultimately moved to the front of the train. As I opened the shade of the front window, I found myself distracted by the beauty of the colossal buildings laid out in a stunning panoramic. It was surely something else, rather than a bleak desert of sand and a blue void of nothingness. The atmosphere was helped set by the curved gradient of the windows, which gave me a sight for sore eyes.
Before I became completely distracted in the immersive experience, I remembered my place on this train, in which there was none. So I pulled the shade over the window and looked for anything that could help me, but I could not help but notice the eerie view of the unmanned cockpit of a freight train heading through the city, transporting cargo that was probably million's worth. Vernon's confidence terrified me especially because a billionaire had so many chips to bet, if they had not yet owned the casino.
Eventually, after scattering around like a chicken without its head, I came across a useful manual which had details and much needed information about the train and its features. No book could bear that much information without being as heavy or as thick as a brick.
Since I was already in the city, I had already cut through about half of my time, so I decided to rush through the manual. As I flipped through page after page, filled with the anxiety that I might have skipped a useful page, I finally discovered the 'Emergency Exits' page. My eyes followed my finger as I slid it from the top to the bottom of page, uncertain whether or not the textbook's information seeped into my brain.
Its words did not help me for they only dragged me down, wasting my time with derivative sentences and unnecessary instructions with jargonistic phrases. Luckily, there were diagrams that kept much of the information, formatted in an easy-to-read presentation. On these cohesive diagrams, all of the train's exits were revealed, including the ones strangely on the roof.
Each carriage had at least one of these ceiling exits, meaning that there was one not too far from my position. However, my laziness did not tempt me to stay in the cockpit, as my intuition told me to search for an exit in the last carriage, because my attempts would be less fruitful if my ass was at the front of the train rather than the back. This was because of the possibility of being hit by another train, for I could just leap from the back of the train and onto the railway instead of tumbling at the front uncontrollably.
I took the manual with me as I ran through carriage after carriage, in case I needed a reminder. The memory of Silverists dragging me across the train tainted my mind and decelerated my sprint, only for a second. Once I saw the cover for the back window, I braked myself, almost tripping over in enthusiasm. Apparently, I was looking for some type of indent on the ceiling.
Searching through the book for answers, I found it quite vague in its detailing and description, despite seeming so easy to follow, so I was forced to find it out myself. Thinking cleverly, I used my finger to slide across the ceiling in order to eventually find the well-hidden depression. After only a moment of collecting dust on my index finger, I discovered the gap in the ceiling. The manual had informed me that, in order to open the exit, I had to toggle a switch hidden inside the tiny gap.
