Leviathan

 Shorty was pissed off landing the museum stint.

He'd come late to the intern fair and ended up with the fag end task.

Unpaid, overnight, hard graft. And Crass too, the twat.

Dammit all.

Still if he did this he'd get his diploma and that was that. Job done. Get out of dodge.

Shorty was a final year undergrad on an archeology degree at Trond University.

He wasn't a natural at the subject at all, having to 'dig deep' in his stores of motivation to stay the course he always chuckled. His ability to slack off knew no bounds and his fellow students often mocked him for being the laziest archeologist that would ever come out of Trond.

I'll make my mark you bastards, just you wait! 

You can't be arsed to even pick up a trowel Shorty, so how in God's name are you going to discover anything. 

They laughed as he trundled off to the night shift of the museum to basically hump move some large artefacts around before the public arrived again the following morning. 

And no money. No sleep. No slacking. Just a tick on his diploma.

The shitty end of the stick. 

Shorty turned up at the museum late and immediately made a bad impression on the curator Mr. Crass, who disliked the student immensely. 

Crass was well-known at the University, an important visiting lecturer in Modern Artefact Display Methods and a real hard-ass to please with assignments. The worst in fact.

Shorty had already had a run-in with Crass the year before when he failed to hand in a crucial essay.

You're a disgrace to the University Mr. Short and if it was up to me you'd flunk the year and be booted out.

Shorty had kept going by the skin of his teeth after his single mother appealed to the Dean, who was very taken with Mrs. Short and spent a most exceedingly intimate afternoon with her in his locked office.

The lazy student had to wait outside in an uncomfortable chair for over three hours, after which his red-cheeked mother appeared from the huge teak doorway fastening up her blouse, her ample breasts nearly bursting out. Through the door the Dean could be seen wiping his wet cock on one of the chintz curtains.

Embarrassed and flustered his Mum exclaimed breathlessly,

You're still on the course son. 

In the Museum Crass was still deriding the boy, because he enjoyed doing it. Born with a silver ladle stuck up his arse, Crass had never put a foot wrong or made a mistake in his perfect clipped lawn of an intellectual's life.

Boy, have I got some hard work for you to do Mr. Short. Regular heavy lifting. Personally I don't think you're up to it and I'll have no choice but to fail you and trash your whole degree. My, that would be so much fun I can't tell you!

I can do it Mr. Crass. I've got the rice.

You can do it can you? Not like your sweet mother. Now she can do it alright. The day after she did it with the Dean. Oh, I know, sloppy seconds but I'm not that fussy. They don't call me Crass up the Ass for nothing!

Shorty went bright red.

Oh, shit, you poor little bastard, you didn't know! Yes, your continued place on the course was dependent on my thorough internal examination of your wonderfully endowed Mother. Good job there's no husband to contend with, it gives the Dean and me unlimited access to her open charms. Again, your success in the final year depended on it. Why, I guess we must have pounded your Mum at least a hundred times.

Shorty was bewildered and enraged in equal measure. These two old fucks had been banging his Mum for a year, blackmailing her, so he got his degree. He felt so sorry for her and stared at Crass with a fury he had never felt before. He had never experienced hatred like this ever.

The student flew into a rage, picked up a geode from a tray and hit Crass hard on the side of his head. The curator went down like a ton of bricks and a nasty cut emerged above his temple. 

Shorty was about to finish him off and bash the old rapist's brains in, when he saw a torch come round the corner and a familiar and unwelcome voice.

Crass, where are you?

The Dean. 

Damn!

The startled student ran off into the darkness of the exhibit rooms. He could here the Dean helping Crass to his feet and both of them giving chase.

We'll get you you little bastard, mark my words! 

Shorty, fast when he was required to be, was already in the back galleries, where it was pitch black. He stumbled a little but rapidly adjusted to the place and found himself at the top of some remote stone steps.

He descended figuring he could spend the night below and make a run for it in the morning. His degree was already fucked now anyways. He'd grab his Mum and they'd leave this shithole forever.

It was a plan and as he gingerly stepped round boxes and crates in the cellars he felt that he was in control for the first time in his life. He fuckin hated being at Uni and one day Crass and the Dean would pay for what they'd done to his Mom.

I fuckin vow to smash their skulls in and piss over their cunt brains I really do! 

It was when he finished speaking that a glow began to appear at the end of the darkness. At first weak, it grew in intensity as he got nearer and once in front of it it actually hurt his eyes. 

As his sight adjusted he could make out a strange stone face in the cellar wall. As the light settled he realised it was some sort of carving on a sandstone block resting against the wall.

Suddenly the carving's eyes shone bright red and Shorty was transfixed, literally frozen to the spot. The simian face seemed to talk to him and his mind was filled with dreadful images of devils and demons ripping the flesh off screaming humans flailing their arms and legs in the dungeons of Hell. Skin was torn away, eyes gouged out and entire bodies pulled inside out by a thousand rabid beasts.

At the centre of them all was the drooling figure of the wall carving, a being born of the haden underworld and the total embodiment of evil.

Leviathan.

As Shorty stared, a remote force rooting him to the spot, his face began to take on the features of the beast and his eyes burned like the scarlet fires of the pit.

You are Leviathan.

I am Leviathan.

You will vanquish your enemies and send them to Hell.

I will.

You will tear out their sight and liquify their brains.

I will.

You will rip out their tongues and break off their teeth.

I will.

You will dismember their arms and legs.

I will.

You are Leviathan.

I am Leviathan.

The young man who had once been Shorty and was now a prince of the dark realms, free at last, turned to seek out those who had done him harm.

The Dean and Crass.

They would pay with their very souls for what they had done to his mother.

The two men were suddenly there before him at the entrance to the cellars. 

Even with the torches they carried it was still lightless and as Shorty reached the uppermost step the darkness became a palpable thing that quivered and shook.

It also became intolerably cold.

Mr. Short, it's time to pay your dues. For cracking me over the head not only have you failed your degree but you have also condemned your Mother to a life simply pleasuring me and the Dean whenever we want. Not only that, you will never be seen again, since anything could happen to a hapless idiot like you on night duty couldn't it. What do you say to that?

I am Leviathan.

What?

It was no longer Shorty's face they saw in the beam but that of the beast. Whisps of smoke rose up and a distant baying of he-wolves and screeching of vixens could be heard as demons entwined in agonized copulation at the creature's feet.

Shorty Leviathan grunted and snarled.

Prepare for your souls to be crushed in endless gears of torture you puny infidels. It would be better that you had never been born!

At this Leviathan spooled out four enormous tentacles and plucked long shards of old splintered wood from the ceiling joists.

Oh my God!

Before Crass and the Dean could turn and run the devil inserted the splinters deep into their eyeballs, ground them round and plucked out their eyes, which fell to the floor like soft whelks. 

The two screamed in pain and now blinded, stumbled around the celler in the vain hope of finding their eyes again, which they stood on and squashed.

Leviathan then picked up the shrieking pair and smashed their heads together so harshly that their skulls cracked open and their buttery brains glistened in the fallen torchlight.

The beast then grasped onto the roots of their tongues and pulled hard, tearing them out before grinding their mouths together until all their teeth had cracked and fallen out leaving the mutilated men with bloody twisted jaws.

In a final act of the most dreadful brutality the demon picked up Crass and forcibly inserted his soft misshapen head deep into the Dean's wide-open toothless mouth and shoved his entire bone-shattered body down his throat, which was met by a further tentacle entering the rectum that itself dragged Crass all the way in until there was a single bloated and bleeding carcass.

Leviathan ripped off the Dean's four limbs, ate them and walked out of the cellar with it's hood up. 

It trudged over to the student canteen where fellow students where laughing at the figure approaching.

Shorty you slack fucker! How did the museum go?

The demon removed it's hood and stared at them before growling the last thing they ever heard.

I am Leviathan!