This story would not be told in history classes, nor would it be even spoken in whisper from person to person. There was no fable or lessons to be had and only the most hardcore would have even known what to discuss around the fire when the name came up, it did not help that your eyes and ears would bleed just by mentioning his full name or that his many ears and eyes could be found all over the city of Chicago-- no, this story would only be told once and then never again. It will be fraught with intrigue and interesting men and women who littered his everyday life and the secrets that I can divul... hey, what are you doing here? What's that in your hand?! Auuughhh.

July 18th, 1928

Welcome to the real story, that guy didn't know what the fuck he was talking about. It all started just a few years ago in a time that was known by most as the roaring twenties. Brushing past our cosmos and beyond, through a millennia of galaxies and clear black skies that stretched on for infinity there was a creature that roared through the skies, fast asleep, and on the final day of his life he would awake to undo everything that humanity had worked so hard for, or at least that is what many believed. Instead, his eyes stretched open and instead of ceasing to exist everything there was only a moment of pain before the eyes of a young man opened in what would be called a psychiatric ward.

"Ahh, fuck. I slept for so long. This isn't what was promised to me?"

"Who are you?", a man wearing a rather extravagant two piece suit and tie sat not even four feet away from the man who had just awoken and his utterance startled him into a slight frenzy.

"What do you mean who am I? I am your creator. I am Azathoth!"

There was a puff of sigh from the fancy man who seemed displeased to meet such a prominent figure. Perhaps he couldn't hear him? Were his ears bleeding from the immense power waves that were being emitted in this room? There were a lot of questions, but Azathoth had no time for answers and immediately stood up looking for an exit from the room he had awakened in.

"You can't leave here, Josh. We still evidently have much work to be done, but we should get you back to your room for now. You've done a lot today and I think this is where we should leave it.", the words struck a cord in the unimaginable horror's mind who snapped back at the fanciful man with a quick strike to the gut, something that he seemed to be used to with the lack of grimace on his face. Instead, two men entered the room and ushered him out while grabbing Azathoth by the arms. Unable to break free from the grasp, even after using his mind powers so eloquently, he gave up and blamed it all on using such a young body.

"You cannot hold me here. My powers are not containable!"

What ensued was two more attempts at breaking out and a small fight in the hallways, a fight that was noticed by one of the men who had been here visiting someone. They spoke not a single word while watching the creature of demise taken back to his cell, but something inside of them stirred watching such promise in the making which was most likely why later that evening they met face to face and had a conversation, one filled with pure metal and despite the insistence from the doctors that this "Joshua" stay locked up; Azathoth was allowed to leave after plenty of pressure from the one they called Nathan.

April 2nd, 1931 - Three Years Later

It did not take the young man much time to learn the ways of the underground. He had an aptitude for fighting and even more for stealing and causing a general ruckus, all things that were considered important in this line of work and yet he still remained just a small pip squeak in the larger scheme of things; not befitting his obvious role of master of the universe which while hard to see would be detailed many times by members of the mafia who swore they saw otherworldly things happening in the presence of him although enough evidence was never able to be produced to prove anything, surely exactly how he wanted it.

In fact, this was only the start and there would be many, and I mean many instances where the powers of the demon prince would be on full display to the few lucky enough to see it-- many of whom would sadly not survive.

The first of such was a tale of thievery and excitement galore.

Azathoth IN The Heist of Capo Giavelli

This was the first big score that he would ever be involved in, most of the time prior to this was jacking cars or purses from ladies. It wasn't until late in the Summer of '31 that the man would prove himself to be a prolific klepto after robbing three different people all in broad daylight an hour before supper; this would give him the eye of Nathan himself who would explain to him that there was a Capo who had been skimming money off of the top and had to be removed, and while Azathoth was not to touch the man himself he was instructed that stealing back everything that had been stolen would be the appropriate response before the feds were brought in after the murder.

Heading up a small team mostly of wise guys and goombas wouldn't be considered a job that most would take seriously, but if he was to prove that he was meant to destroy the universe with his very thoughts then he had to start from somewhere-- anywhere-- and this was as good as any of an origin story.

"We're going in through the front door? Are you sure about that?"

"Yeah, he's right... I think... my older cousin did one of these two years ago and they broke a back window. We sure we shouldn't be doing something like that?"

"I know a guy who can pick a lock. We could go right in through the window without breaking a thing."

Conversations like this went on for hours. Everyone that was assigned to this job thought they had some sort of invaluable input to every little phase of the process, but every time Azathoth would shut them down and explain as eloquently as possible why his way was the best.

"We do it this way because I fucking say its the best way.", and like that the argument was over. Only seven more of those would ensue before finally the plan was set and everything was underway.

The next night

It was nearly midnight when all five of the squad rolled up to the house that belonged to the Capo Charlie Giavelli. He was wealthy as far as Capos went and had a lot of clout within the city of Chicago which meant that this would have to be fast and clean without anyone being alerted because the death wasn't scheduled for at least a few more days afterwards.

There was a moment of pure exhilaration directly before Azathoth's boot met the door. All of the men fastening their masks tightly and wearing the most dull clothes possible, because while he was told to be as loud and abrupt as possible, it was also instructed that no one be identified or else they would have to go the way of Giavelili.

Only fourteen minutes past from the moment the door was kicked open to when all of the cash and valuables were hauled out of the house while the homeowner and very angry Capo watched from his couch, tied up nicely like a present. Only one hitch happened through the entire thing and it was a pretty big one, as none of the five men who had entered the house cleared every room and allowed someone to come rushing out of the dining hall and directly at one of the masked crusaders.

This is not how this is supposed to go.

There was a bright flash of light and then... nothing. For a moment, nothing existed inside of the house except for the minds of the men, all bouncing off of one another in brilliant flashes of color. Five second later, and everything was back to normal and the man who rushed them was now just red paint for the house-- it was a fucking mess, and one that Azathoth would have to explain.

"Who shot that guy?"

"Shut up. Don't speak. You know the rules."

"Fuck."

They took the money and disappeared from the crime scene. Everyone was sure that the man was shot, but they also saw that body and how it was mangled beyond recognition. None of them wanted to face that fact however and instead continued with the notion that things were exactly as they were meant to be.

This would be a recurring theme in these tales.

The next of which invites many more faces to the ring.

NathanExplosion was in dire need of a job done. Not just any job, a very sensitive, top secret job. He had many trusted associates he could assign to the assignment, but he knew there could only be one for this particular job. The others just saw him as a normal dude, bland and regular, like Joe.

Right now, you're probably thinking: 'Joe who?' Well, Joe mama, that's who.

But the truth was that this "man" wasn't a man at all, but an intergalactic space demon squid beast or something. Nathan wasn't totally sure, but he could see the endless blackness of his soul. Nathan could always sense black souls. Blacker than night, blacker than oil, blacker than his eye was after he ran headfirst into a door last week.

NathanExplosion called @Azaothoth into his office to give him the job.

"AZATHOTH," he gutturaled, "I am in need of your... Special skills. Tonight there will be a large delivery of Canadian Scottish Whiskey coming in off the lake. It will be very heavily guarded, and under lock and key. Not just regular locks either, the most brutal and intricate and lockiest locks. I need someone with the skills to open those locks, and the emptiness within required to steal another man's booze. I need that shipment. Make it happen."

Whiskey didn't seem to be all that important but it was a job just like any other and one that he would be able to use to further prove himself in this line of work. More-so than any other that he had acquired as of yet, because this one seemed to be very important to NathanExplosion and could easily be what would finally get him noticed.

Consider it done. No, seriously. Here you go.

His nose was bleeding and there was no inclination of how it was pulled off, but from behind the counter lay Canadian Scottish Whiskey in barrels not only five seconds after it was asked for. Would he finally be noticed? Would people begin to talk about how his powers are growing by the day? Sadly not, as Nathan pushed him out of the room and completely ignored how quickly it had happened.

So what do I do now...?

There was a silence coming from Nathan's office and so Azathoth took that to mean that he could now spend some time alone. He hadn't done that since escaping from the institution and quite frankly wasn't even sure how to begin, but wiping the blood from his nose he took a long and hard breath before deciding what to do next.

Maybe I'll go see what the other guys are up to, or go for a walk? A walk sounds... quite pleasant.

It wasn't. Two dogs chased him as he attempted to go for a stroll and a man wearing nothing but a trench coat showed him something that he hadn't bargained for. After dealing with the man, he walked back to the headquarters as the rain began to pour. That's when Nathan called him back into his room for another job, surely now he would have something that would really put him on the map.

Or it would lead to his ruin. Who really could tell?

There was a brief moment in the conversation with Nathan where Azathoth felt like perhaps fire was spewing from out of his mouth during his simple articulation of words. Although he was being kind in calling it that, as there was a general distinct lack of anything following proper conversation technique as it erred more on the side of yelling. Apparently the whiskey that was brought into his office was none other than that belonging to a rather prominent figure instead of the stock down by the lake, and completely ignoring how amazing it was that he was able to conjure it out of thin air his boss instead took note how much trouble this would cause within the community.

His first big job was now seen as nothing more than an abject failure and the creature of undoing felt a bit down in the dumps as he left the headquarters and walked down the city streets of Chicago. While he was given a chance at redemption it was something that he hadn't done on purpose before and didn't think that it would come so soon-- murder, and yes while his entire plan was the full destruction of humanity as a whole, that was simpler than getting face to face with the person you're ending, which was something that he wasn't quite sure if he was comfortable with just yet. After all, how many people have what it takes to really look at a man while taking his life? Would he become addicted to it, or would this be a job where the guilt would never leave the back of his mind?

Arriving at his destination the thoughts he had conjured slowly dissipated while his hands held firmly against the gun that was to be his weapon of choice. It was smaller in stature and didn't make much noise which was perfect for the task at hand, something like this required precision and a skill that most would never possess, a lack of conscious, and he had hoped that being a hideous monster from the depths of humanities deepest recesses and fears would aid him in this.

Joseph?, before the portly man could even respond to the robed figure there were two loud sparks and sounds that reverberated throughout the entire area but luckily didn't reach far enough for the average civilian to hear. Only a few were even in the area and all knew what was bound to happen by laws of the land so none dared speak as Azathoth slipped down a winding city street and back to Nathan who was waiting for him with nothing more than a slight nod and wave of his hand.

It was finished. Now this was a real job, and one that would open up a whole new set of work for him; while something inside of him did indeed stir, it was neither bad or good at least in this very moment. He just was and now everyone in his business would know that he could be counted on to get jobs done, sometimes without any fanfare at all.

and that was enough to make him feel okay for the moment. At least only briefly.

Our next tale will come in a few days. It will be good. I hope.