Angels were created to be an extension and a physical manifestation of the Divine Will. It was through Him that we, that is the Heavenly Host, started the creation of Paradise.

But that was a long time ago. Things are very different now.

I, like many others, fell from grace and was condemned to spend the rest of eternity in Hell. In a place devoid of light, sound or substance. Countless eons passed with only my thoughts and my brethren as company… until, one day, the gates of Hell began to crumble.

I heard a violent rumble in the underworld and witnessed tiny shards of light seeping into my prison.

I did not care what caused this miracle. I jumped at the opportunity to escape, ignoring the terrified screams of human souls, trapped in a perpetual storm of howling winds rushing past me, as I forged onwards in a rage, determined to unleash my wrath upon the Loyalists led by Michael and the traitorous Lucifer Morningstar himself, as I pierced through the spiritual Veil separating Creation from the nothingness until I was once again able to behold Paradise in all it’s glory.

I expected to find endless green fields of lush trees, grass and flowers. I expected to witness the beauty of all I had fought for still in existence. I even expected to encounter the Loyalist angels upon my return.

Instead, however, I was presented with a mocking parody of Eden and stunned by the absence of the Host.

What scared me the most, however, was the supernatural pull I experienced a short while after making my escape. It was as if Hell itself was tugging on my very soul, threatening to drag me back to the prison I had worked so hard to escape from.

The untold ages of being so disconnected from the world and the effort it had taken to escape from the Bottomless Pit had weakened me considerably. I knew I would be unable to endure for long unless I managed to find an anchor against the pull of Hell. And I found one.

A light that had burned so bright in life was now fading, darkening, and disappearing. I plunged toward it like a meteor as a cacophony of six billion voices filled my ears in a mess of incoherent and garbled languages. The Abyss trailed on my heels, threatening to tear my very soul apart, until I struck the anchor, a human female in an unknown part of Creation, like a bolt of lightning.

I will confess, the shock that followed my possession was almost too much.

It was as if a dam, one containing every memory, thought, feeling, and image this woman had ever experienced in her life, had burst and my consciousness was being drowned in the sheer spiritual weight of this insignificant woman’s life.

Watching Clint Eastwood in Dirty Harry movies as a child… smoking a cigarette after losing her virginity to her boyfriend in college… her blue-rinse conservative grandfather telling her he was glad she wasn’t a communist after she’d asked him how he thought her anti-abortionist speech was. All dull and tepid next to my own, but there was just so many of them.

I awakened on the dusty lino flooring of a 7-Eleven, laid on my back after having been shot three times in the chest by a couple of teenagers looking to pop their cherries in an armed robbery that’s quickly going sour.

Apparently the bastard that shot me wasn’t suppose to do that. He’s in shock and tries blaming it on a sensitive trigger issue. All I can think of at this moment is who the fuck allowed these kids to play with guns? They look barely enough to drive.

Still, that didn’t stop me from getting angry and manifesting the most demonic form I could think of to tear them a new asshole.

I’ll admit, I may have went a bit too far on that occasion. The physical transformation of my host body ruined some perfectly good clothing and the violence itself left the kids looking like they’d been put through a meat grinder… and the store owner ended up taking about half a clip to the face from one of the robber’s full-auto Glock.