As mythical figures go, the Jersey Devil has never captured the public's imagination in the manner of, say, Big Foot or the Loch Ness monster.

According to legend, the creature was born in the Pine Barrens to one Mrs. Leeds. Shortly after birth, it is said to have grown wings and flown off to torment New Jersey. Sure, there have been reported sightings over the centuries, but today, most New Jerseyans pay little heed to their eponymous Devil.

Yet each game night at the Prudential Center, a different sort of Jersey Devil -- the state's only mascot for a professional, major-league team, the New Jersey Devils -- comes all the way alive.

Accessible through a frigid hallway, his lair is no hell. There, in the bowels of the Newark arena, the man behind "N.J. Devil" morphs into the character by pulling on tall leg warmers, a skullcap, muscle suit and No. 00 jersey, lacing up puffy hockey shorts and skates. His crowning glory: a grinning red face that makes him heads taller -- 7 feet, with horns -- and markedly warmer.

"It is hot," he says, crouched in his dressing room before a weeknight game. "But I've been doing it so long it doesn't faze me anymore."

Who is this man behind the mask? Like Clark Kent or Bruce Wayne, he prefers his regular-guy identity remain a secret.

But he insists that he's much more than a cartoon personality. The man who plays the mythological character affectionately called "N.J." says he's always at work promoting the mascot, whether in the rink, on the road, or in the classroom. He may not be scoring any goals, but he is a lightning rod. Branding in action, the Devil is a walking billboard for a franchise -- and a source of pride for Jerseyans of all stripes.

Come hell or high water, "N.J." wouldn't have it any other way.

"It's by far the best job in the world," he says.

The Devil's workshop

A 29-year-old former hockey and baseball player sidelined by an elbow fracture at 16, the human powering "N.J." joined the Devils in 2007. Fleeced of his towering, horned disguise, he is of course significantly shorter, and though no one would know it, he has a beard. Wearing Devils gear, he resembles any other fan.

He submitted his mascot application in the form of a demo reel of his previous work -- in Illinois he played Jammer, a Phillie Phanatic-like mascot for the Joliet JackHammers, a semi-pro baseball team.

The man behind the Devil lives in Hoboken and came to N.J. from Illinois. (Andre Malok | NJ Advance Media for NJ.com)

While he may be a sendup of Satan, this hell-raiser is fueled by the same spark that gives Santa Claus his enchantment. The difference: a fair amount of athleticism is required. "N.J." works out a few times a week, to ready himself for the rigors of Devils mascotting.

He must scale the ice holding a 40-pound electric pitchfork, and manage to not drop it as "Carmina Burana" plays in the background, waves of lava enveloping the rink as part of a 3D light show. He must canvass the arena at breakneck speed, holding court with fans. And, as the party music kicks in, he must have enough power on reserve to bust out a mean pop-and-lock.

His smooth hip-hop moves helped him make a case for the Devils job. He thanks his mother, a dancer, for handing down the talent.

"There's mascot dancing, and then there's legit other dancing," he says. "It's one thing to just be able to dance and another thing to be able to entertain while dancing." (And yes, he can do both. He proves as much as he delivers a short, crowd-pleasing routine set to Run-D.M.C.'s "It's Tricky".)

"You can hear the reaction anytime he's up there dancing," says Ben Broder, director of event presentation for the team.

N.J. Devil's signature drum interludes have come to be a fixture at games. (Andre Malok | NJ Advance Media for NJ.com)

Something else is apparent, too -- "N.J."'s team spirit. Back in high school, he would lead chants at basketball games.

"If I'm a fan, I'm a fan," says the man inside the Devil, who hails from the Chicago suburbs, and resides far from the Devil's Pine Barrens, in Hoboken. He got married last summer -- hardly any demonic imagery was involved.

"Once she started to get to know me, she realized that it's more than just a guy in a suit," he says of his now-wife.

Even though his official title is team mascot, the gig, if you're wondering, is full-time. When he's not entertaining at games, he's on the road in "N.J.'s Ride," a branded van he takes to birthday parties, schools and hospitals. On the offseason, he spearheads the Devils' community outreach, visiting summer camps and street hockey clinics. (The Devils organization declined to say how much the mascot makes annually.)

Living legend

"Can I get a selfie?"

That's the constant refrain that follows this hockey fiend. It doesn't hurt that on this night, the team ends up besting the Arizona Coyotes, 3-0.

The score is 1-0 when N.J. stops to sign Michael Cartisano's jersey.

'N.J' high-fives a young fan at the Prudential Center in Newark. (Andre Malok | NJ Advance Media for NJ.com)

"We have the best mascot," the 51-year-old Denville resident says. "He's really good with kids."

The mascot for the Jersey Devils wasn't always such a beacon of positive energy. Nor was he always the Jersey Devil.

In 1993, Brad Patrick Ebben, who played the Devils' old mascot, Slapshot -- a pinata-like puck with a cartoonish smile, big hands and small devil horns -- was charged in an alleged fondling incident. Ebben resigned and the mascot exited stage left, making way for N.J. that same year at the team's home venue, what was then the Brendan Byrne Arena (now the Izod Center).

The current inhabitant of "N.J.", whose tenure began after the Devils moved to the Prudential Center, studied up on the cryptid's origin story: the varmint makes its debut in the 1700s, as the 13th child born to a woman.

Nonetheless, "N.J."'s face is fashioned not after the Jersey Devil -- usually portrayed as an amalgam of animals -- but instead the Satan of pop culture. His hair is an inky swell, his skin a blistering shade of tomato and his horns a shiny silver.

Either way, "N.J." prefers his devil be mischievous, not malevolent.

"Why not have a mascot that's good, not evil?" he says.

On the @NJDevil00 Twitter account, "N.J." likes to keep things light, posting animated GIFs and riffs on current affairs.

"He has the personality of a little bit of a jokester, so we definitely play that up," says Brian Born, Devils social media coordinator. But his loudest stunts play out in the arena.

Stretching out a gloved hand to receive his public -- as though he's Julius Caesar -- N.J. initiates a call-and-response with fans by banging a mallet on a thin drum. It was his idea, and the results are earsplitting.

Someone's got a prom date! Who says a Devil can't play Cupid? pic.twitter.com/w60WzOKJ5O -- NJ Devil (@NJDevil00) March 7, 2015

BONG-BONG, BONG-BONG-BONG.

Without hesitation, the crowd answers: "Let's-go, Deh-vils!"

Children, however, can often prove the hardest sell -- after all, N.J. is modeled after the keeper of Hell, and so bound to inspire some kind of horror among innocent babes. One doe-eyed little girl clings to her father as they near the mascot. A panicked look consumes her face.

"It happens," says "N.J." He considers it his job to show them that sometimes, it's OK to dance with the Devil.

"Sooner or later," he adds, "they'll come around."

Amy Kuperinsky may be reached at akuperinsky@njadvancemedia.com. Follow her on Twitter @AmyKup. Find NJ.com Entertainment on Facebook.