Reality, or at least, the truth of the matter (which is not always reality, unfortunately), is somewhat different.
Take myself as an example. Most people who saw my Celestial form would assume I was either the product of their (demented or drug induced) imagination, or some servant of the fallen one. They'd probably decide it was the latter once they learned that my speciality was possession of people and things. Angels are the Good Guys, after all, they don't do things like that!
These days, however, guest appearances on mountain tops with flaming swords and booming voices just aren't enough. We have to get in on the action, and help mankind to get it right.
Take last weekend. It started quietly enough, I was in the body of a student called Simon. Usual student type, east too much junk food, doesn't work out enough, but has a bright future. Provided he doesn't get to deep in debt, flunk his exams and end up with a coronary at the age of 30.
Here's where I come in. Once or twice a week, I take over. Usually just for an afternoon or evening. A friend of mine, Case (another Angel, Malakite of Michael) teaches Martial Arts down at a dojo in St Marys (the rent's cheap). I head down and work out with him, give Simon's body a good workout, leave 50 quid in his wallet to help stave off the bank manager. As a result, he keeps fit, doesn't have cash problems, ends up with a good job, wife and kids, they all live happily ever after.
Well, we finish our workout and figure a pizza's in order, so head off to get one - a quick stop at a cashpoint provides the funds (Very simple things cashpoint machines, when you get down to it. All they want to do is give money out. Simple to slip in and pay out when required. I know, technically it could be regarded as theft from the bank, which is a sin. But as the amount I transfer out this way gets written off without a moments though by some accountant, my conscience is reasonably clear).
We find an odd bunch at Domino's - including a somewhat naive girl trying to promote peace by handing out flowers to all and sundry. I haven't the heart to tell her that the 60's was 30 years ago.
Just after we get inside to order, there is the sound of a commotion out the back, so Case goes off to investigate. I soon get bored with waiting for the guy at the counter to stop listing to the fight and take my order, so quickly nip in and have him write down what I want. I slip out after he's headed over to start making it, and once he's got over the fact that he has no recollection of taking the order goes into autopilot and gets on with his job.
Out the back I find a bunch of smashed up scooters (Case would not be amused if I called them Bikes, he's very firm about what constitutes a Bike, and 50cc doesn't !), one of which is on top of some guy.
Once I've helped him get out from under it, and put his shoulder back in its socket (I've found a good knowledge of Medicine to be useful. It's important to always look after those I possess, and not let them get hurt. Occasionally this is unavoidable, but I've yet to fail to put one back to full health before I've left), the commotion has died down, and a quick round of explanations occurs.
It seems that Case and I have stumbled onto a group of Angels like ourselves. The one I helped was Burdock, a Mercurian of Novalis. His friends were Bernard, Dandelion (the one from the 60's), Francis, Nathaniel and Zebediah. They had been recruited by Marc to ensure an important business meeting goes smoothly. Their task was to make the critical delivery of Pizza go according to plan.
I do occasionally wonder about the nature of our appointed tasks, but if Marc says that failing to get the pizza delivered is the most likely cause of the meeting to fail, then who am I to argue ?
Anyway, always on the lookout for ways to fight the good fight (however bizarre at times), Case and I volunteered to join them. I left Simon to make his own way home (the cash and deep pan meat feast on order should keep him happy), and took control of Bob, the delivery boy. He was looking somewhat shaky, having witnessed a fight between our side and a demon (hence the Burdock being under the scooter), and I figured it was the best way all round.
So we all piled into this van, with the exception of Case who rode escort on his bike, and set off to deliver the food. The "plan" got as far as the exit to the car park before running into problems!
In our path was a mean looking individual, whom Case decided to shift by playing chicken with. Neither moved until the impact, when Case and his bike vanished in a burst of Song. Nathaniel swerved, but the guy made contact, and in a second burst of Song we too were elsewhere.
We soon figured out we were down in the docks - fortunately his range was limited (I didn't fancy the idea of being dumped in the river, too little water in it), but enough to put us the wrong side of customs. Fortunately the delivery boy needed little effort to control, so I was able to enter one of the officials and have him wave us through without awkward questions.
Nathaniel meanwhile was none too quietly fuming at Burdock, whose aura of peace and goodwill was suppressing his naturally more aggressive tendencies. I left them to it.
We soon noticed we had a tail, the "Think Kobally, Act Violently" bumper sticker giving the game away that it wasn't just another car headed for the centre of town.
Modern technology is wonderful stuff, you know. Tremendously complex. Not enough to become alive, but enough that it can contain a thought. And that's all I need. Our would-be follower discovered his electronic ignition felt like a nap.
For some reason this annoyed him, and our rear nearside tyre blew in response to his glare. Nathaniel struggled with the wheel for a moment, then continued. Case pulled his bike round in a screeching turn, aiming to head back and deal with our pursuer, who took the opportunity to blast at him with a shotgun. With a tremendous roar the petrol tank exploded, hurling Case and the bike through a nearby shop window. This was too much for Nathaniel, who was under a Malakite Oath not to abandon friends, and he started to turn our van.
Bernard shouted at Nathaniel to get out and help Case while we got the Pizza to the meeting. Nathaniel jumped out and we raced off, leaving out two colleagues to wreak havoc. We switched cars to a Volvo as soon as we could - when machines dance on your whim such things are easy. Traffic lights turned green for us all the way to the Centre, but trouble was waiting for us there.
Dandelion then leapt into action - literally. Waving her Crown of Joy she danced and pirouetted with the demon (who was the same one who had sent us to the docks, now in the guise of a janitor). While he was distracted we all rushed into the Civic Centre, and I left the delivery boy to do his job. He was somewhat shocked to find himself here (my hosts have no memory of the time I spend with them) but he had a pizza in one hand and a delivery address in the other, so set about delivering.
Outside the dance had turned to violence, with the net result that the demon's host got shot and dumped in the back of the car. So much for keeping things quiet. A trip to the security surveillance room soon sorted thing out though. I had the guard let us in while Bernard fixed the tapes & machines, then left him snoozing in his chair while we left.
Case and Nathaniel showed up a while later, having managed to deal with their assailant. We were debriefed by Marc, who seemed quite happy with the outcome. We left him with the ticket of the van (24 hours in a multi-story), and the tapes of the fight outside, and headed off to unwind, or in my case, to recharge on a good dose of mains voltage.
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