Ether

by jail-cat

Rating: everyone
Tags: Adventure, Human
Length: 1273

In a world where a man who shares a name with another man travels to another world to stop an evil plot that is also happening in the other world...

Mort Eads, a grunt worker at a factory in Colorado city, is mistaken for a retired FBI agent Mort Cross, who had changed his identity to match that of Eads for the sake of his survival. When former Mort is kidnapped and can not give a gang by the name of the Gawkers a piece of valuable FBI intelligence, they realize their mistake and use a prototype inter-dimensional teleporter called The Ether to dispose of him. Eads then finds himself in the land of Equestria, where a very similar issue is occurring, and quickly finds that he is a pivotal factor in its development.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-03-30 04:50:12 UTC

Prologue

In hindsight, I guess the room wasn't so bad. Now, I really can’t say the same for my captors. After all, they did capture me, and then proceeded to beat non-existent intelligence out of me. Though I guess they had a purpose. I really never did figure it out, but there is a pretty valid explanation for that. How can you figure out a conspiracy from a different dimension?

Back to the room; it was fairly bare, but not to the point where it felt like an interrogation chamber. There was a ragged looking desk on one of four faded white walls, with an equally worn desk lamp sitting atop it. In one corner there was a sliding mirror door, the opposite a regular wooden one, and behind me a window. I was bound to a simple desk chair. It just seemed like a vacated bedroom —minus the bed—that was currently being used for malicious purposes. Isn't torture illegal in the United States or something anyways? I could have sworn it was. But somehow, I felt that these men didn't care. There were three of them total. Two of them wore dark black body armor, not a bit of skin showing. They were kind of stoic, and more than a little creepy. For the sake of not wasting time, I’ll just call them Stoic and Aloof. They were both caring heavy machine guns while guarding the plain wood door that surely marked the exit.

My face throbbing and my ‘hermano’ looking the other way (He kept calling me that, and my Spanish was a bit rusty, so I didn't really know what he was saying.), I turned my head to the window. It wasn't much consolation, seeing as the view just granted a brick wall a few feet from my containment, but it was enough to justify the sharp pain in my neck I endured to grasp the image. I’m not sure why, but looking out that window comforted me.

“Look at me, Eads!” shouted a voice directly in front of me. I snapped my head to look at Hermano again. Honestly, he scared me more than Stoic and Aloof. They seemed human. Aloof sat there twirling a ringed knife in one hand, while Stoic occasionally cracked his neck, or twisted his back. Hermano, on the other hand, was unfaltering. He had a fire in his eyes, almost like everything behind them had snapped long ago.

“Look man, I really am not sure what you’re looking for here…” I trailed off, the energy to formulate sentences slowly leaving me, “And I know you don’t want to accept it, but I just am not the guy you’re loo-” The taste of my blood thickened on my tongue as my plea of innocence was cut off by a solid punch from Hermano.

“Cut the crap, Eads! I know who you are, who you were,” Hermano whispered, his face inches from mine, “Maybe if I start calling you Cross, that’ll jog your memory! You can’t hide what we already know; ex-FBI agent, famous for bringing down the Gawker gang. Famous for bring down me…” His expression was comparable to a harassed bull, and I didn't want to drive it any further. As I sat there staring into my demise, I felt something sliding down my face. It wasn't my blood, or Hermano’s saliva; it was my tears. There was only one last thing I could try.

“I don’t know who Cross is, or the Gawkers,” I whimpered, the tears slowly coming down harder and harder, “I've lived here in Colorado my whole life. I dropped out of high school to go work as a factory grunt, which is where I've been for the past six years. I've got nothing; my family is gone, my friends are gone, everything is gone. All I have is my life, and I really don’t want you to take that from me!” I ended off shouting, my desperation showing through. Impossibly, Hermano’s brows furrowed even more, and he slapped me across the face one final time. Once I recovered from the sharp sting, I saw him finishing up some utterance or another to Stoic before walking out the door and slamming it. Stoic leaned over and whispered to Aloof, but before he could finish, a blood curdling scream of rage sounded from outside the room. They both froze up and remained silent for what seemed an eternity. Finally, Stoic just nodded and they both walked towards me.

“Don’t worry; you’ll get to live, Mort. But not here.” said Aloof as they unbound me. Pain racked my mind and I could hardly think on what Aloof said as they began to escort me out the room and through the halls. My senses dulled to the point where I could only see the blur of passing lights. I wanted to scream for help, or try and escape, but it just wasn't going to happen. Before I knew it, I was sat down again. Immediately my senses came back to me.

This room was much more ominous than the vacated bedroom. The walls looked to be solid steel, and the only things that broke the trend was a heavy looking airtight door on my left, an incredibly thick window directly ahead of me, and a mechanical throne of sorts with all kinds of gadgets hanging off around me.

“So you’re not Cross, Mort. But, as I’m sure you understand, we can’t let you leave like this.” Sounded Hermano’s voice from hidden speakers as Stoic and Aloof left the room. My gaze snapped back to the window where I saw him smiling. Around him was a variety of computers and white-garbed men manning them.

“I might as well give you the gist of what’s about to happen here, Eads. What you’re sitting on is an under-wraps state-of-the-art device called the Ether. There is only one in existence, on account of it being stolen during its prototyping phase. It’s like a teleporter of sorts, except it works between dimensions. It sends the target to a place where they will never return, which is really all that matters to us. Theoretically, you will survive. Keep in mind that this is a prototype though, so if you don’t, too bad so sad. All that I care about is that there is no body to dispose of afterwards! Hasta la vista, Mort!” shouted Hermano, my ears ringing from the volume of the speakers. As I sat there nursing my ears, my vision blanked out as well, being replaced by a solid wall of bright white light. My feeling began to fade away too, the pain calming down to a dull nagging. The only thing that let me confirm at least something was happening was my scent, which only granted the smell of ozone.

And then it stopped, and everything came back all at once. A night sky glared down at me, and the ringing gave way to distant howling. The pain began to overwhelm once again. From what I could tell at the time, I was lying in a meadow surrounded by a thick pine forest. That was all I could conclude before the pain, shock, and exhaustion caught up with me. Believe me when I say that I would have liked to have gotten up to explore right away, but when you have just gotten free of hours of torture after weeks of sleep deprivation, it’s kind of hard to just keep chugging. Not to mention the mental shock that I wasn't in Colorado anymore. Needless to say, it took a while to start up again.