Devil-ish

Prologue

I'm so fucking tired of this.
I'm so fucking tired.
I don't even know what I'm doing anymore. Why I'm doing it.

The city danced beneath the window of his 18th story office. He had helped build this city on the edge of the pacific ocean. Literally placed each foundation stone of city hall himself back in 1853, over 168 years ago. His hazel eyes traveled to the horizon to watch the descending sun lower behind the edge of the world. The ocean seemingly gulped down the sun as if it craved its warmth. Looking at the world below him he wondered if the people racing towards home realized how small and insignificant they were. Humans have a way of placing themselves in the middle of their own personal solar systems. Thinking that without them, the universe would somehow fold in on itself. But in reality, they were stuck in a wheel of back and forth. His brothers and sisters thought HE had a God complex, had they even met those they were tasked with protecting? True, he rebelled but not because he wanted to rule anything, he just wanted freedom. Now he had anything but, he thought as he unconsciously ran his thick, veined hand roughly, through his golden brown hair. He was stuck in the everlasting position of CEO of punishment. The first few centuries of his new job might have been interesting, he loved the hands on aspect. But as humans evolved, so did his work. His job now consisted of sitting at his desk signing stacks of papers and yelling at the occasional employee who had fucked up that month.

As eons passed he realized that this job was given to him less as a punishment and more because his father wanted to be seen as a good father. After the incident in the old testament, God worried that he would forever have the title of the "vengeful God". It would be fitting, everything God does is out of anger. He sucked in a shaky breath and walked over to the small bar that graced the left side of his office. He deftly uncapped an unopened bottle. Not bothering to get a glass, he drank straight from the bottle. He grimaced at the taste, looking down he read:
                                                Barcardi: Limon.
                                       Rum with Natural Flavors
                        Expertly blended for character and flavor

Mazikeen, his right hand, had assured him that this rum was better tasting than anything he had before. She was wrong. He made a mental note to tell her to try again as he took another swig.

His thoughts wandered back to his father. Father God was a dick. The humans have a phrase, God works in mysterious ways, comical he thought, he is no mystery. Throwing him out of heaven, throwing those who agreed with him out too. The flood. The plague. The famine. The wars. Death. Now he was stuck in a wheel of his own, and he was over it.

Humanity's continued belief was that he, the devil, was the cause of the evil in the world. But you cannot have light without darkness. God threw me down to be the darkness so that he could be perceived as the light. But he is the one who creates, who destroys. He is the one that judges these humans when they inevitably die, he is the one who judged me and sentenced me to this unending punishment. His grip around the bottle tightened while his jaw clenched, the corded muscles of his neck strained.

He looked up to his ceiling, eyes hard and closed off, "I'm done". His voice was gravelly and clipped, barely audible. The power that emanated from him started flowing slowly at first, like molasses, it was so thick he nearly choked on it. He closed his eyes, took another breath and unlocked the flood door to his emotions, all his anger, his sadness, his hate. He channeled them into his power. The floor beneath him began to shake, the windows began to crack.

"I. AM. DONE."

CRASH.