[spoiler]Wait for it, lol.[/spoiler] Reese noticed the expression on Mortar's face, and with a blank facial expression, he shifted to the seat next to Mortar. "Yeah, one of us was going to tell you about that," Reese responded, as if he read Mortar's mind. "but I'm going to be honest: it was amazing. Apparently, Cyan hadn't done that in over a thousand--" Reese suddenly stopped, pretended to cough, then continued. "But...that wasn't what I was telling you all this for, I swear." Reese took a small glance at the drink, then back at Mortar. He remembered to mix the cream into the Oreo dust; it was [i]supposed[/i] to work. "Also, I have no idea what the heck you ordered." He sighed, then after a small moment, adopted a more serious disposition. "It's about something else." --------- Reese and Mortar stood in a small alleyway that ran on the side of the bar building. A long, thin puddle ran along the middle of the alley's path, as drops of water fell from a drain that was attached to the roof of a neighboring shop. The only sources of lights were dim light bulbs with wiring that ran like vines across the upper edges of the side wall of the bar. Reese took a moment to think, walking back in forth in thought, then stopped and looked toward Mortar. "The night all of that happened, when Cyan and I were at...my house, Wilson activated as he usually does. For reasons that can be presumed, the subject of handguns got brought up, and that's when things began to get...strange." Reese began to take a few steps closer to Mortar. "My memory was hazy then, so wasn't sure what I said at that moment. However, I remembered that Wilson told me that you had a certain handgun on the day we met Wyatt and broke Clara out of that SHG warship. I didn't think much about it that night, for reasons obvious, but the next day I asked what handgun it was that you had; Wilson said that you had a SA-5O7..." Reese slipped out a photo of the handgun and handed it to Mortar. "...the same handgun model mi papá carried. Of course, I was shocked, and verbally fought with Wilson to tell me why he didn't tell me [i]much earlier[/i] about all this." Reese began to adapt a frustrated tone. "Wilson said he was told by you and Cyan not to let me know anything about it," he stated, confused and stressed. "Cyan was still in the house that day, so I asked her why she couldn't tell me anything about it. At first, I thought it was just coincidence, that maybe it was some weird thing going on between you guys, but then she let me inspect your collection of items, and then I realized it was something much more." Reese stood beside Mortar and began pointing at various parts of the photo that was in Mortar's hand. "As any gun expert would know, an SA-50O7 is a high-impact glock that holds a twelve-round magazine and fires [i]single[/i] shots. However, mi padre modified [i]his[/i] SA-5O7 to fire [i]three[/i] round at a single time and hold a magazine of twenty-four rounds at the price of reducing impact, although the range remained incredibly impressive for a handgun. [i]Your[/i] SA-5O7 can do the exact same thing, only that it fires round...rounds rather than shelled rounds. So, I'm guessing that you form small iron balls to fit into the gun's magazine to fire. The strangest case of all, no single gun manufacturer makes any more original or actual models of the SA-5O7. Now, what was going through my mind was: 'Well, if he could just make massive iron balls out of thine air and fling them at anyone, why would he need a gun?'. After some thinking, it hit me (no pun intended). What if it had...sentimental value? What if...you knew my father personally?" Reese then took the picture away from Mortar and continued. "It didn't make sense to me then. After all, we're technically [i]both[/i] mortal, right?" He then pushed a picture of an old Oreo dispenser in Mortar's hand. "I asked Cyan if I could take a look at your cookie shelf to take another look at your Oreo dispenser, although she warned me that you didn't like people going through it. I found the dispenser, and although you told me it was an antique, I was able to find the receipt for it." Reese handed a picture of the Oreo dispenser sheet to Mortar. "2003 was when they were last sold. The receipt, marked on that year, also has your other name that you adapted back on Earth. No, you're not that mortal." Reese then took a step back, trying as best as he could not to feel the least bit angry, confused, lied to. "Please," Reese asked, emotionally. "As your closest friend and for the sake of everyone we care about, you've got to tell me what all of this is about."