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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Vibrant with fresh spray paint and the smell of earthy tobacco, it was an uneasy walk as I took each step cautiously, assuming the worse was bound to happen after every pace I made, and so I removed my earphones to make sure I heard every noise, thus I was ready for whatever would come next. I was right to await danger, for a group of four took a sharp turn into my general direction. They could have been just a drunken group of friends who understandably found themselves in the dark environment on accident, but their carrying of bats gave away their levels of hostility.
Their similar choice of hairstyle gave me flashbacks of haircuts from the Silver Gang; their long cloaks made them look like the cover of 'The Matrix'; and two of them were smoking cigarettes like mobsters in a club. Though they seemed like the generic hoodlums of the street, being 'generic' was still pretty dangerous as there was the possibility of being hurt, if not murdered, by these adolescent school drop-outs, unless they never attended school.
My heart had skipped a couple of beats for a second, even though I knew I could take down these guys single-handedly, no matter what they wielded menacingly. They approached towards me in a calm manner, calmer than a group of drunkards would, but that did not stop me from analyzing all four of them to make sure I was ready if they, or I, wanted to engage.
Firstly, three of them were holding metal and wooden bats, two of which I could manipulate, and secondly, they did not look tough, for they seemed like just a few skinny punks who were waiting to have their weak asses whipped by someone, and that someone happened to be me.
Initially, there was no violent confrontation as they thought I was one of them, and even if I was from another group, they thought I was intending to buy their synthetic drugs, "Hey, grim brother, you want something that'll knock your boots off?" the uneducated teenaged hoodlum tempted.
I thought that, if I had my hands on the stuff, I could possibly start a case by sending the drugs to the police so that they could analyze and test the samples to see if anything related to Drask Shurs or Vernon, but that was a far stretch. Although I unquestionably had no interest in drugs, after George showed me a book about illicit substances that traumatized me to the point where I used to flinch at the sight of a cigarette, I wanted to see the item out of curiosity, "Let's see the product," I uttered in a much darker and sinister tone, trying my best to sound as stoned as possible, whilst still covering my face with my hood.
They gave me a plastic sandwich bag with about 100 grams of white and blue crystalized powder and named a price of 1000, "Bullshit, has anyone else bought this shit before me?" my outburst caused a little commotion.
"Yeah, we had one customer that bought a bag an hour ago," one of them responded, which had meant they had a grand on them already.
I remained silent for a moment, for I contemplated how I was going to create a diversion for me to deliver the first blow, until the third gangster asked impatiently, "You going to buy the shit or not?"
