[ WP ] Tell me the story of a publicly hated hero fighting a much beloved villian

The arena had been standing or 20-something odd years, but finally, it was being used - `` time'' is n't really a concept to celestial beings. The arena was designed much like a the Colosseum, but bigger - large enough to hold nearly ten million people. Millions more would be watching it from their homes; it would be broadcasted in nearly every language, shown on every channel. 
 
 Today, Satan, champion of humanity and God, the Almighty Father and Creator, would duke it out, WWE style. 
 
 I was lucky enough to land a gig as a custodian here, to witness the big event. 
 
 In the stands were people, mostly with tacky light-up red horns purchased from a dollar store, some with red and black face paint. The former academic in me wanted to cringe; still buying into the Medieval portrayal of humanity's champion? It did n't sit well with me. 
 
 I saw him, earlier today. But he was nothing like what the crazed fans in the audience thought him as. He was beautiful: tall, with pale hair, tanned skin, and cheekbones sharp enough to cut, like a Bernini statue come to life. 
 
 I was changing out trashcan liners in the bathroom by section 48A. When I looked up, he was there - leaning against the wall, looking, of all things, tired. 
 
 I did n't say anything; there was n't much to say; I continued with cleaning, wiping down the sink and putting toilet paper in the stalls. 
 
 I'm old - celebrities do n't impress me anymore. 
 
 `` You know,'' he said, `` I never wanted to do this.'' 
 
 I looked over at him. `` Hm? Do what now? Use the bathroom?'' I could n't help but chuckle at that - he, of all people, using a public restroom. The image was... amusing. 
 
 He made an elegant gesture with his hand. `` This... this fighting thing. Never meant to duke it out with the big guy. I just wanted what was fair.'' 
 
 `` Fair,'' I told him, `` is a relative term.'' 
 
 It was n't fair that my wife divorced me; it was n't fair that not one of my kids talked to me; it was n't fair that I've spent the last twenty Thanksgivings alone, and it was n't fair that I'd fallen from a professor at a reputable university to a custodian. 
 
 It was n't fair that I'd chosen my addiction over my family. I can see that now - but I did n't, back then. 
 
 Lucifer - that's the name he prefers we call him - was giving me a look. `` You understand,'' was all he said. I did n't know what he meant - did n't exactly want to know what he meant - so I just shrugged. `` Why bother doing it, if you do n't want to?'' 
 
 The look he gave me conveyed years of sadness - the kind of sadness that does n't go away. The kind of sadness I understand. `` Because you need me to. If that - if that deity is allowed to win - free will is lost. You will be his slaves. You will try to please him - because we all want to please him - and you will fail, because you are human. He's done this more times than you think - make you and unmake you just as quickly. But he ca n't get it right.'' 
 
 I had to ask. `` Why ca n't he? If he's all-powerful?'' 
 
 All of a sudden, Satan grinned. There was hell in that grin. `` Because of me.'' 
 
 He straightened and leaned forward. `` You know what feels like. To fall. To be driven from your family, cast out of your home. You understand why I must fight God. You and I, we're alike. And I'll be seeing you shortly.'' 
 
 And with that, he was gone.
