With one last effort, an extraordinary being scrambled over the lip of what was now termed worldwide as the Sunnydale Crater.

There were very good reasons as to why nobody was around to witness how this bizarre creature then shambled forward a few steps and then stood there totally stock-still. For one, it was the middle of the night. However, even if it'd been high noon, the Army Corps of Engineers had over the last few days banned anybody from physically visiting the gigantic sinkhole. Brought in to explain how less than a week ago an entire California city had vanished into the depths of the earth without any kind of advance warning whatsoever, this federal agency began its investigation by studying satellite photos taken of the area, along with personal observations through plane and helicopter flyovers.

Even though the new crater was beginning to fill with water seeping up from the bottom of this depression, the Corps personnel were relieved to note that the geological basin had stopped expanding, and looked to remain at its current size. Unfortunately, the inner cliffs of the crater continued to be extremely unstable. There'd already been numerous rock and earth landslides along the whole perimeter, which lead to the public engineering and construction management agency hastily prohibiting everyone against getting closer to the site, due to the sheer danger involved with approaching too near the crumbling edges of the immense hollow.

The immobile creature in its adjacent position by the rim didn't look like it recognized its deadly peril. Actually, it couldn't properly be said that this entity had any kind of look or expression upon its features at all, since it didn't have a face. Or a head. Or what could be called a body, except for someone trying very hard to come up with an approximate description of this really odd organism. Nevertheless, here goes:

Think of the world's largest booger, shaped like an albino starfish, made up of a blobby white mass with five tentacle-like limbs attached to a central trunk that was presently standing on its lower pair of extremities. Assuming anybody dared to get close enough to measure and weigh that bizarre thing, they would've found out it was about fourteen inches tall and tipped the scales at twenty pounds. After that, the guy in the class-four hazmat suit who'd drawn the short straw over getting the job of actually touching the boneless blob that felt like an icky, soft clump of unbaked bread would've gone off to get as drunk as possible, all while muttering under their breath that this creature couldn't possibly be of this Earth.

And they'd have been absolutely correct.

It was an accidental freak created by purest chance, not produced nor originated nor fashioned by any god, deity, or supernatural being at all, even by one presently existing on another plane of reality while howling with laughter over such a wonderful joke upon herself. But then, Sunnydale had been known for weird things. And during this demon-infested city's sudden and total destruction, which smashed and crushed and mashed together uncounted remnants of objects of all kinds that had over a century had become imbued with the magic given off by the Boca del Infierno, a single bit of intelligent life was somehow brought into existence.

This supreme example of probability gone wild now bestirred itself on the ground by the Sunnydale Crater. Slowly walking in a half-circle, the protoplasmic blob that now called itself Proty III of the Legion of Super-Pets stopped short when it finally sensed in which specific direction its newest unaware master was located. Regrettably, that place was too far away to quickly arrive there while traveling in its present form, so…how should it use its powers to take on any shape or form imaginable in order to reach whom it properly belonged to as fast as possible? Of course, unlike its precursors known as Proty I and Proty II, the third of their number was now more than capable of acquiring whatever abilities of any object, being, or person it chose to change into.

Chaos magic was a wonderful thing.

The first two experiments, while rather interesting, didn't quite seem to properly fit the situation. The black-feathered duck cartwheeling and somersaulting around the place even as he maniacally whooped with utter glee was simply too slow in his progress. Changing once more, into a miniature vortex which had flailing clawed hands and feet randomly appearing out of the sides of this small tornado, also failed to cover enough terrain.

In the end, the third time was the charm, as a two-foot-tall purple roadrunner joyously leapt into the air, clicked his yellow claws together several times, and cawed a triumphant "Meep! Meep!" just before it hit the ground running.

A few hundred feet further on, a thunderous BOOOMMM! rocked the entire area, sending avalanches crashing downhill along the inner sides of the entire crater, all caused when during its exultant journey towards Los Angeles, the Hyperion Hotel, and Xander Harris (in exactly that order), Proty III broke the sound barrier.