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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Having not checked under his shirt to see if there was a justification to determine whether or not the wound was from a firearm or a blade, I made the heart-wrenching guesstimate of his being shot. This was shown by the roughly circular hole in his jacket and his shirt.
Not knowing what to do next, I was completely blank as the day only became weirder and weirder with my increasing concern of the consumption of drugs. I, eventually, chose to investigate more in the scene to gain a more detailed perspective of the situation at hand. Even if I had an eternity to figure it out, I could not think of any logical reason for why he would hide the bloodstain from me, unless it was so that he would not provoke my curiosity to the subject, for curiosity was one of my many vices.
Even after what I thought was a thorough search, he left me no clues to what could have happened. A gun was the most probable theory, unless a blunt circular object was somehow pierced into his stomach. I struggled to think of yet another gruesome method, which would lead to a deep wound and a circular hole in his clothing.
Pursuing my theory on the gun, I was still at nowhere with this case for anyone could have shot him, even himself in his moments of grief. After a less inept search, I soon found out, that the blood looked like it was left out in the sun for about a week as it had stuck to my father's jacket like Velcro. This meant that this wound happened before he had even come home, but then the smell hit me.
The putrid scent of rotten blood tunneled its way into my nostrils, drilling them with the rancid smell of rusty copper, which almost made me spill again. Though I could not recall smelling any rusted metallic item, the smell spoke for itself, which seemed strange unless you would experience it for yourself. Although the smell plunged deep within my respiratory system, I continued to check George's stinking stiff.
After taking yet another few seconds to frisk the corpse for any guns, I tried further to provide evidence for how my father was unable to commit suicide, as dark as it sounded. Thankfully, I had not uncovered any weapon in which he had been hiding from me, but as relieved as I was, this had not proven anything, yet, for he was still a major suspect, and was yet to be acquitted with a heap of evidence. Though, I succeeded in finding at least something in the abyss of his pockets, which were his car keys.
Subsequent to finding the car keys, I realized that I could have another option of transportation besides walking, which encouraged me to leave the house. I had to head off as my father would want me to; however, I knew that after minutes of my departure my conscience would have the better of me for I could not resist the temptation of solving the case of who shot George.
Though this case led to several different questions being asked, one was finally answered as I knew why George would not want me to call the police. This was because I was the most viable suspect the police would have in solving this case, which in their eyes would likely be classified as a murder, even if I was the victim's own son. There was not much evidence to back me up as there was only the proof to be viewed upon by the jury for my fate to be guilty, and I also had no alibi as being homeschooled in a wheelchair could not progress me very far.
