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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This act was so sudden that I caught the other bouncer off-guard, and landed a kick to his crotch. As his partner was out cold from a collision with my fist, the second guard kneeled down in pain and groaned pitifully until I saw him reaching for his back, where I assumed he hid a gun. This gave me an idea, for after quickly identifying that there was a metallic object behind him, I remarked, "If you want your gun, take it," I then used my powers to launch the gun from his pocket to hit his head so hard I might have given him brain damage, but, of course, he was unconscious.
Though it was a possibility, I could have used the gun to shoot but chose not to, mainly because of the loud noise it would have made, scaring all the workers away. Nevertheless, I kept the gun anyway as a last resort. I also pulled my hood over my head to provide a little more cover for my face, since I did not want the possibility of my mother's coworkers recognizing me as her son.
I had not wished to kill anyone ever, though, I had a feeling that that was not going to be the case on the day. Finally, I reached the main hub where there were showgirls practicing dance routines for the night on a bright red yet dull platform with a pole that had gone through God knows what. As my eyes shifted to the right, there was a fat man on a luxurious couch watching an early performance. I tried my best not to disturb him whilst doing what I came to do.
There was a woman at a bar behind the man who looked about Margaret's age. She excessively cleaned the beer jugs that already looked squeaky clean, so much so that anyone could tell that she was pretending just to keep her job. I walked up to her and started to interrogate in a polite manner, "Excuse me, do you know a woman by the name of Margaret Foster?"
After I asked her this question, her hand lowered from the glass to somewhere underneath the counter. She answered, "She no longer works here."
"Why not?" I asked.
"What's it to you?" she snarled back.
"I'm looking for her and her partner," I truthfully, yet quietly, disclosed, until I remembered George's instructions to avoid Margaret. "I mean, I'm just looking for her partner," I rephrased.
"You going to pay for a drink or a lap dance or what?" she responded defensively, which made me run out of patience.
"So that's the game you want to play? Okay then, if you don't tell me what I want to hear, I'm going to tell your boss that you've been cleaning that same bloody glass for two hours. So unless you want to get fired, I suggest you answer me," just as I was on the brink of scaring her, I added, "Plus, I have a gun in my back pocket, which I'm not afraid to use. Want a closer look?" I only needed to reach for my pocket to scare her, which meant I was not given the opportunity to showcase my gun like a badass.
My threat made her so nervous that I could swear I heard her heart beat. Her hand was raised from underneath the table and continued to stroke the glass with as much care as Eric had with his blades. "She quit, for a reason I'm unaware of," she revealed reluctantly.
