They paid me $5000 to go through hell

You ever heard of the term “Doorway Portals”?<br><br>Not really a thing I knew about until all this began. Basically some sort of mysterious door that appears in random spots around cities and towns. Anybody can see them, but only certain people can find them. <br><br>Too many questions there, not enough answers. I’m not here to give a history lesson about doorway portals. <br><br>More important is what’s on the other side of them. <br><br>Most of these doors open on demon dimensions, or at least places run by demons. Not your run of the mill Screaming-Faced-Demon-With-Sharp-Teeth kinds of imps either. The higher ranking ones; your more noble demons. The kind that wear nice suits and sit on panels. The kind that organize the workshops, or set up the tests. <br><br>Some gates open on our own dimension, thousands of years ago points in time. Some open on places you wouldn’t believe; locations you couldn’t make up, dimensions you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. <br><br>But hey, it’s all just conjecture. Some of us have been through these gates for years, and we’re still figuring it all out. Figuring out what works, what doesn’t. Who you can trust, who you can’t. <br><br>It’s not an easy life.<br><br>Of all the gates I found, and all the things I’ve been through, the offer that changed everything was made on a beach.<br><br>How I got there though begins a thousand miles and thousands of feet above that beach. With the sun set to rise on a journey I would never forget. <br><br>I’m a “taster”. <br><br>Not a tester, not a pilot, a taster. I go through these gates first, for science. For money. For fame. For fame’s.<br><br>It’s a dangerous job, but it’s the only one I’m good at. <br><br>I work for a man named Mr. Mauk. <br><br>If I had a dollar for every time I said that name out loud, I could probably afford to buy his company.<br><br>Mr. Mauk’s Industries is one of the biggest names in doorway portal research, and Mr. Mauk owns it all by himself. <br><br>Don’t ask me how he got where he is. He’s not like the rest of us “portal runners”. He’s not a taster, or a broker, or a broker-assistant. He’s not a rat nor a snake, nor any kind of animal that’s been compared to him. He’s just Mr. Mauk, a man with a mind and a plan and a lot of money to spend.<br><br>I met him about five years ago, fresh out the military and looking for a job that meant something. I found it in the portal running trade, and a boss in Mr. Mauk. <br><br>I didn’t know how he made his money, I didn’t need to. As long as he kept paying me to do my job, we were square. <br><br>His brokers would approach me with offers for certain gates. They would explain the terms; I would explain my limitations and my price. If we could meet in the middle, I would take the job.<br><br>That was it. <br><br>I didn’t ask questions I didn’t need to know the answers to, I didn’t make friends I didn’t want to die if I met, and I got very good at my job. <br><br>I was the best taster they ever had, and I knew that. <br><br>So why is I writing this out, exactly? <br><br>I may not be the best taster, I may not even be the good kind. But I’m the only kind my wife knows about, and that’s all she needs to know. <br><br>She’s due any day now, and I need the money. <br><br>Mr. Mauk noticed my recent ineptitude a few days ago, probably could tell that I was taken off the job. He asked me what was wrong; when I told him, he scoffed at me. I hadn’t realised, but my desk was on his list to be let go. <br><br>He offered me a chance to keep my job; all I had to do was one last test. <br><br>No brokers, no paperwork, no questions. Just me and a gate. <br><br>I asked what the gate was for, what would it entail. <br><br>He just smiled, and said, “You’ll figure it out.”<br><br>I had to take the job. <br><br>That’s how I ended up on a plane, 30,000 feet in the air, en route to a man in Rio de Janiero with an offer only my wife is allowed to know about.