As night descended upon the brightly-lit city, it was followed by an unannounced guest. The stars were mysteriously absent from the darkened sky, leaving no witness to the shadowed figure that slipped from the clouds. It alighted upon the top of a skyscraper with the graceful ease of a cat, and approached the edge of the roof to survey the unsuspecting city below.

Humans, thought Beelzebub contemptuously, were such weak-willed and stupid creatures. He watched them as they stumbled along in their mortal lives, unaware of anything beyond their own insignificant troubles. They were prey to their own emotions, confined by the opinions of others, plagued by a tendency toward irrationality that they called “love”, and confident in their imagined roles as rulers of their own fates. But their fates were not in their own hands.

Beelzebub had realized from the moment he was cast out of Heaven that directly defying God was futile. The wrath of God was beyond anything that the rebel angels had ever known. When their holy Father had revealed his omnipotent power and closed the golden gates upon them forever, the fallen angels had despaired at their seemingly sealed fates.

And then God created humans. In Beelzebub’s opinion, they were God’s fatal mistake. Unlike their shining, heavenly brethren, these imperfect humans were simply so easily led astray, so… corruptible. The moment that the first two humans had succumbed to temptation signaled the beginning of a new battleground.

What had begun as a war of heavenly angels was now a war of human souls. While one side fostered good, the other spread corruption. It was a struggle to see who could ultimately sway the future of all mankind.

For demons like Beelzebub, this meant that their jobs changed. He liked to think of it as "teaching" the humans how to sin.
He prowled among mankind, targeting souls that were precariously balanced on the line between good and evil and then tipping them over the edge. They never knew, of course. He always approached them slyly, with a whisper and a smile. Take the money, he would say. Take it, because how else are you going to afford that new car? Or, that new boy who just came to your school: doesn't he annoy you? He thinks he's better than you. Maybe you should fix that. It often took no more than a few words to sway the heart of a human. They were like pawns on a chessboard, able to be moved however he liked. And, he was very convincing.

However, Beelzebub's main motivation was not to win any war between Heaven and Earth. What he fought for was power. Unlike Lucifer, who was blinded by his hate for God, Beelzebub did not seek revenge upon the holy Kingdom. Why should he, when his new Kingdom was on Earth? In the depths of his heart, Beelzebub thought that Lucifer was foolishly raging against a power he could never overcome, and ignoring the new potential around him.

The human texts had got it wrong when they called him second in command to Lucifer. He growled at the thought. Beelzebub had never thought of himself as second to anybody. In the battle that rent apart the holy Kingdom of Heaven, it was true, he had followed the beguiling Lucifer all the way down to the pits of Hell, but he had not fully understood then. He had followed blindly, driven by the incomprehensible feeling of wanting more. In Heaven, everyone was considered as a equal, and Beelzebub didn't want to be equal; he wanted to be better. Up among the clouds of the holy Kingdom, he couldn't achieve what he wanted. But down here on the rough, flawed surface of Earth, he could do anything his heart desired.

With the rustle of feathers, Beelzebub spread his wings in the night. They had been singed black in the fall from Heaven, but his angelic golden hair had remainded. In his opinion, black suites him much better. He admired them for a moment, then turned to the human city sprawled beneath him. A hot breeze ruffled his fair hair, indicating the onset of summer on Earth. He didn't mind the heat; it was nothing compared to Hell.

Suddenly, like a gargoyle breaking free from it's stony perch, Beelzebub leaped from the ledge and flew up into the night. He observed the bright city spread below him with a fond eye.

Yes, Beelzebub sometimes dreamed of golden roads and cloudy halls, but he had learned to embrace this new domain. Here in this realm, he had no equal. Here, he was a Prince.

The human texts had gotten one thing right. They called him the Prince of Hell. He liked the way those words felt coming from his mouth, but he could think of an even better name.

"Prince of Earth", he said aloud as he spread his wings over the city. And then he grinned. Yes, it suited him much better.