Another Kind of Chosen
By Philip S.

Summary: There is no Slayer in this world. But there is a different kind of Chosen One to fight against the forces of darkness.

Rating: PG-13

"The world is older than any of you know. And contrary to popular belief, it did not start out as paradise. Demons ruled over the primordial Earth, made it their home, their hell. For untold generations they were the ultimate power and the early humans were but playthings to their whims.

"The demons called themselves the Horde. And their leader, the vilest and most powerful of them all, was Hordak, God-King of the Primordium.

"Thus it was until the day humanity rose up against their lords and masters. It was not the first such rebellion. All the others had failed and ended quickly and in untold bloodshed. Not this time, though.

"The leader of this uprising was a man called the Gray Skull, king of his tribe and most powerful warrior of his age. And Gray Skull had found a way to match the power of the Horde. Toiling in a dark cave, he had forged a mighty blade from the black ore found in his native mountains, and through means unknown to any but himself, he could use this blade to tap into the very power of the Earth itself.

"On the day Gray Skull raised his sword to the heavens and shouted his fierce battle cry, the time of the Horde ended. Hordak met Gray Skull in battle and their conflict laid waste to the land, but in the end the demon lord could not overcome the power and will of his foe. Hordak and the Horde were banished from the Earth, never to return. But Gray Skull paid a heavy price for his victory, for with his final blow Hordak wounded him mortally.

"As Gray Skull lay dying on the battle field, his comrades came to him to hear his final words. He warned them that, though banished, the evil of the Horde would endure on Earth. Certain of their magics remained, and their tainted blood had given rise to strange half-breed creatures that had multiplied and spread. In order to protect the world they had just liberated, a champion would be needed.

"Gray Skull gave his sword into the care of his comrades and told them that in each future generation there would be one worthy to wield it. And by invoking his name, they would be granted access to the power.

"And as he spoke, so it would be. Into every generation a champion is born. He or she alone will be worthy to wield the power of Grayskull and use it to fight against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness. And to ensure that this world will forever more be safe from the tainted legacy of the Horde."

From the Scrolls of the Council of Elders

Present Day

Duncan Merrick was not a young man anymore, something he was all too aware of right now as he looked upon the very, very young people milling about before him. Ancients, had he ever been that young to begin with? He could not remember. He only knew that his shoulder ached from the heavy bag he was carrying and the back of his neck was sticky with sweet from the unforgiving Californian sun.

For what was probably the hundredth time he checked the name and address he had been given. It hadn't changed. The seers were certain, the Council was certain, so who was he to doubt them. Finally, after a long search, the Chosen One of this generation had been found. And it was his duty as this generations' Man-at-Arms to deliver the champion's weapon.

The bell rang and the students spilled out of the building in front of him. His eyes quickly focused on the person he had come to see. And he was in luck. After a brief chat she was left behind by her clique of friends and sat down on the stairs, apparently waiting for someone. He would not get a better opportunity.

"Excuse me," he approached her. "Miss Summers?"

The teenager looked up, popping her gum.

"Uh, yeah? Do I know you?"

God, she looked even younger up close. Way too much make-up, way too little clothes, and from what he had gleaned from looking at her files way more interested in trivial things than good grades. Could this really be the one? Well, there was really just one way to be absolutely certain.

"You do not know me, Miss Summers, and I am sorry for ambushing you in this way, but I need to deliver something to you."

He slung the heavy bag from his shoulder and put it down before him, unzipping it.

"Did I win something?" Summers asked, excitedly. Ancients, he hoped the girl had more sense than she appeared to have. She was way too trusting of strangers, too.

"In a way," he replied, taking the long case from the bag and holding it out before her. Her eyes narrowed a bit, confused by the case's obviously ancient design and make. He did not miss the brief tightening of her muscles as she considered moving away from him, but she stayed put. Her hand moved up, reaching out to touch the case, apparently without her being consciously aware she was doing so.

"What is that?" she whispered, fully focused on the case.

"Unless I am very much mistaken," he said, unfastening the latches, "it is your birthright, Miss Summers."

The case sprung open and the young girl's eyes widened.

Just a block or so away a dark figure looked up. Clouds were gathering in a sky that had been clear and blue just a second earlier. Ears that were far keener than any human being's clearly heard the words shouted by a very young voice.

"BY THE POWER OF GRAYSKULL!"

A bolt of lightning arced down from the sky and hit in what he knew was the school yard of Hemery High. A ripple seemed to go through the very fabric of the world.

"I HAVE THE POWER!"

"It has begun," the dark figure whispered.

THE END (for now)

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer copyright Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Masters of the Universe belong to Mattel. No infringement intended.