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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"That's good enough for me," Chump finished the food on his tray and proceeded to leave the table, but before his first leg could escape from underneath the table, Gordann firmly grabbed Jones' wrist, which most likely halted the blood circulation in his entire arm.
He then told Chump menacingly, "You don't have to be so much of a dick," and let go before his veins would pop or his skin would turn purple. Chump remained silent as he carefully treaded his way out of the cafeteria.
The whole table was so quiet during their confrontation that people became wary of the noises they had been making while eating, but then Phox arrived and replaced Jones. She was much less of an egotistical jerk and consequently lightened the atmosphere. "As I was saying," Felix broke the ice first, which reminded me that his say on Eric was still pending, "Eric is a strange and shady character. I do not trust him. He tells stories about a rich millionaire, and rockets falling from the sky to obliterate us all."
"Vernon's a billionaire, Felix, and these are not stories," Willian managed to overhear our conversation from the end of the table. I had not paid much attention to Willian but neither did he to us, for during the whole conversation, he had been spoon-feeding Torretta the mashed potato, as her mental illness made even spoons a difficult tool to utilize. She reminded me of the painful reality of Earth where perfection ceased to exist.
"How do you know?" Felix questioned after he ripped a piece of meat off his rib with his perfect set of teeth.
"Maine," Willian answered.
"Excuse me?" Felix nearly choked.
"Isn't that a conspiracy theory?" David eventually joined the discussion.
"No," Carly and I both answered simultaneously, then awkwardly stared at each other, only to return our gaze to our own platter.
"This is not a tall tale. My cousins own a house near the coast of Little Cranberry Island, and though their place is over twenty miles from the isle, debris of the missile washed up on their shore. They could tell that the junk collecting sand was from a missile without much speculation, for different types of radiation emitted from the pieces of metal, and their shapes resembled a missile's, plus, the alloy of the debris was extremely heavy," Willian publicized. He rambled on further to the point where I just blurred out his speech.
While Torretta made possum-like squeaks to indicate that she wanted more nourishment, her brother fed the other recruits with details about the pieces of junk. I saw this act of negligence and immediately reminded Willian about his hungry sister, "Don't forget about your sister, Willian."
As he turned and fed his vulnerable sister, Carly told Willian, "Speaking of your memory, you left two rounds in your Glock. Sav would have killed you if I didn't unlock the magazine for you."
"Thanks a lot," he wholeheartedly thanked Carly.
"Don't mention it," she then returned to her meal.
