Hellish Martyr

Hell hath no fury, so come what havoc may, Life has been complicated, war and strife lost and grief, but that isn't why I'm here. I needed a drink. My old watering hole is gone, so I found a new one. The only issue is a massive portrait of a yearling boy staring at me from the mantle of the pub, the same boy who happened to be a voice in my head. Being the three-hundred and first generation of Belial came with a few caveats. The first Lucifer is a slavedriver and the second that there...
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Hell hath no fury, so come what havoc may, Life has been complicated, war and strife lost and grief, but that isn't why I'm here. I needed a drink. My old watering hole is gone, so I found a new one. The only issue is a massive portrait of a yearling boy staring at me from the mantle of the pub, the same boy who happened to be a voice in my head. Being the three-hundred and first generation of Belial came with a few caveats. The first Lucifer is a slavedriver and the second that there were three hundred Belials before me. The portrait happened to be of the two-hundred and second. All smiles, but never stops talking. So, now he's going to tell me a story. A story about a boy who loved to entertain, who was forced to fight, and who had to make a choice few could ever make. He lived to smile and died to keep others smiling. This is the story of a boy. I call him 202. And how he smiled through the pain.