A harmless bit of fun I cooked up simply because I wanted to try something simple for a change. No continuations, no actual crosses as it were, in fact I might have mis-classified this. I'm just not 100% sure on that. Anyway, enjoy.Disclaimer: Buffy and all characters belong to Joss. The Reality Puncher belongs to DC Comics. The author makes no claims contratrywise to this fact.
We all have choices that define us – choices that make us who we are, but sometimes we aren’t given that choice. Sometimes the choice is taken away from us before we ever know that we had one to begin with.
Higher Powers plague mankind – they control everything – and yet they control nothing because Free Will is something that not even God has a right to interfere with. This doesn’t stop Higher Powers from messing with lives, lives on a Multiversal scale, lives that in the end run burn out too soon before anyone ever has a chance.
And so it is that everything inevitably was forced to change – because of something that defied the very fabric of reality itself – the very laws that govern all of existence. And thus was born a crisis – a Crisis of Infinite Earths.
But what happens when the results are not as widespread? What happens when the nexus of reality finally struck by the backlash of the exhaustive Clash of Titans eventually trickles down to peter out before it can drastically alter the events of lesser realities.
In the end run – the real end run – nothing much.
Buffy Summers opened the door to her house calling for her mother. Joyce Summers was found lying prone on the couch. Buffy Summers halted mid-step a hitch in her throat as she saw her mother lying sight unseen – her eyes staring at the heavens.
And then somebody decided to punch reality.
Buffy Summers opened the door to her house calling for her mother. Buffy smelled a delicious smell from the kitchen and followed the tantalizing aroma to where her mother was busily working on fixing a feast to celebrate her drastic and almost rapid recovery.
Buffy smiled and greeted her mother – no words needed to be said – she was happy to see her alive and well. Buffy wrapped Joyce in a hug and thanked God or whoever for the small miracle that allowed them to catch the tumor in time.
And somewhere in the vast nothingness of a dimension connected – yet forever apart from Buffy’s own reality – a being of pure evil, untold darkness, and utter despair, dropped to the floor of her prison and proceeded to have a tantrum as only a two-year old trapped in an immortal shell ever could.
The First Evil hadn’t counted on Kryptonians’ interrupting her attempts to fit the pieces in the right order to force her prison from being cracked so she could leak out and play with her new toys the same way she’d played with her old ones.The End