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Hellmouth, meet Hellbore.

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Summary: A careless wish while looking for a weapon to kill The Judge, changes a Scooby's life forever.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Literature > Sci-Fi > Bolo!BelisariusFR1311,9266436,5578 May 068 May 06Yes

All canon characters belong to their rightful owners. I am not the rightful owner. I just arranged their meeting for my own twisted amusement.

Authors notes at the bottom.

Hellmouth, meet Hellbore.

Sergeant von Braun, or as his really close friends and co-workers knew him, Brunegar, the vengeance demon, paused as he passed the armory of the Sunnydale army base during his nightly relaxing stroll.
He, like Anyanka and Halfrek, liked to specialize in a certain area. And ever since he had watched his family being slaughtered at the hands of an invading army in the distant past, he liked to even the odds in a big way for the little guy.
This meant he usually spent a lot of time in army bases around the world, waiting for a careless wish for better weapons or leadership. His best work was when he had pretended to be a general’s aide during World War Two, and strictly speaking, the general *had* gotten a quick end to the war with the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
The Americans of course, had no way of knowing that the Japanese were only two days away from completing their own nuclear weapons and eventually destroying the American presence in the Pacific, but that didn’t matter to him.
All that mattered was the fact that Japan had struck first, and that made them his enemies. But that was long ago, and tonight, he’d noticed something strange by the armory. He realized he could hear voices coming from one of the air vents, and avoiding the private on duty who for some reason kept checking his watch, sidled up to it to try and hear what was going on.

“So, does looking at guns really make girls wanna have sex? That’s scary.”
Xander looked up from the crate he was inspecting, and turned to the cheerleader. She was dressed in something she wouldn’t be caught dead and mutilated in at school, and she was doing it to help him. Taking that into consideration, Xander decided not to tell her she was sitting, and drumming her six-inch heels, on a box full of live grenades.
“Yeah, I guess,” he replied, hiding a smile from her as he returned his attentions to the crates in front of him. He’d just found something promising when he was distracted again.
“Well, does looking at guns make you wanna have sex?”
“I'm seventeen. Looking at linoleum makes me wanna have sex,” he replied distractedly. From the corner of his eye he caught Cordy staring at him with a weird look in her face, but she just shook her head to dismiss whatever she was thinking of, before she began to look around the room, apparently bored already.
“What kinda gun are we looking for anyway?” she asked.
“I dunno, something big.”
“Like a tank?” she asked, amused.
“Yeah,” Xander chuckled, as he tried to pry open a crate containing a rocket launcher he’d just found.
“I wish.”

Brunegar frowned at those words, he knew these kids, every demon in town had at least heard of them, and he guessed strictly speaking they were fighting a war against the forces of evil. And, he continued to think, as a smile began to spread across his face, the Judge did start its side of the war first, by incinerating humans.
Well then, a wish was a wish.
“Done,” said the suddenly demonic looking figure in army fatigues.

Cordelia looked away from the amusing sight of Xander struggling to open the stubborn wooden crate. Over his muttered curses, she’d heard something which sounded a lot like a door opening, followed a slight breeze.
Her eyes tracked over the interior of the armory, searching for the source of the sound, at first passing over but then quickly returning to a door she had apparently not noticed before.
A door which now stood ajar.
“Xander?” she called, frowning at the sign proclaiming a sticky end for intruders which covered the door.
“Huh?” he grunted in answer, lifting himself off the floor as he futilely threw his full bodyweight into prying off the lid of the crate with a crowbar.
“What’s in there?”
Xander gave up his attempts at opening the crate with a disgusted sigh, and turned to look at the door Cordelia was pointing at, frowning as he too noticed it for the first time.
Wiping his sweaty palms on his legs, he cautiously made his way to the door, and peeked inside.

* * *

I am aware.
This is most confusing to me, as my most recent system memory clearly indicates that an enemy projectile was mere microseconds from impacting my cracked forward armor, permanently destroying my survival centre and dooming me to oblivion. I am even more confused when my scanners indicate that I am no longer at the frontlines of the battle, nor am I even on the same planet if my atmospheric sensors are to be believed.
I immediately run a level one diagnostic on all my systems, which after .08 microseconds reports that I am in perfect condition.
I immediately realize that the Enemy has captured me. Although I am not certain where the acquired the technology to repair me to this degree, I have learnt to respect their cunning on the battlefield, and I will not underestimate them.
However, bringing me to what is undoubtedly a hidden and important base, shows how gravely they have underestimated me. I am a Bolo Mark XXIX /N, proud unit of the Dinochrome Brigade, and I will do my very best to escape and rally my brothers to this location. The Enemy will rue the day they captured Unit CHO.
My musing is cut short when seemingly human figure pokes its head into the room which the Enemy thought to store me. He gapes at my armored war hull in a manner which does not flatter his features, and quietly steps into the room, drawn perhaps by curiosity.
This is a poor attempt at subversion indeed, if the Enemy think I will automatically obey the orders of any human. I cannot help but feel a certain amount of what I can only describe as humiliation that the Enemy would think so little of me.
My targeting systems have already locked onto the faux human, and I select a low powered laser from my point defense systems, which draws energy directly from my reactor core.
No sense in wasting valuable ammunition.
After checking and re-checking my targeting systems to ensure a direct hit, I close the circuit to fire the beam exactly .8 seconds after the apparent human took his first step into the facility.
Nothing occurred.
Shocked, I take a full second to ponder my inability to fire on the fake human, when it occurs to me to do a full scan of the figure. To my surprise, the male is shown to be one-hundred percent human. My core programming, obviously detecting the human, blocked my order to my forward laser battery. I am relieved that my human creators had the foresight to think of just such a situation, and that I did not destroy one of my creators.
This remains however, a trap. It is possible the human is being coerced into attempting to access my command functions. When I have fully ascertained the nature of the facility I find myself in, I will make sure to escape in such a manner which will allow the human a chance regain his freedom.
I take a moment to mourn my Commander, who had perished inside my hull despite the three meter thick armor protecting him.
Suddenly, another human appears at the door, a young female if my sensors are correct. I cannot help but feel dismayed when my visual sensors register the terror on her face when she notices my forty-meter high bulk. Never has a Bolo deliberately harmed a human outside of a battle situation, and the mere thought causes my psychotronic circuitry to develop a random power fluctuation which takes me five seconds to isolate and dissipate.
By this time the human female has made her way to the male’s side, and clutched at him instinctively, a fact which the male seems to find some amusement in I cannot follow.
I notice that for the first time they are speaking, and I immediately activate my auditory sensors to eavesdrop on their conversation.
“…-hat the hell is that Xander?”
“Looks like a giant tank Cordelia. Must be new, never seen one like this before,” the male, his name was Xander, a contraction no doubt of Alexander, replied.
I am confused again, while many humans could expect to live their whole lives without seeing a Bolo in person, it was impossible not to have seen history holo’s about our glorious and noble exploits on the battlefield.
His gaze wandered across my hull, until he found my unit designation on my main Hellbore. His lips moved slightly as he sounded out the letters, until his face broke into a lopsided smirk as he chuckled.
“What are laughing at now doofus?” the female named Cordelia asked in a derisive tone. I decided that I disliked her.
Xander however, seemed not to notice as he answered her question, “Look at what they called it. I dunno what a Bolo Mark twenty-nine is but look at what comes after, /N is probably Naval, but how the hell this thing could float is beyond me, but anyway… after that is CHO. Someone went and called this thing Nacho!”
I am shocked.
Even as I struggle to understand the implications of this development, programming deep within my personality center accepts the new input, and action is taken.

* * *

To Cordelia’s credit, her shriek was only slightly shriller than Xander’s when the the damn thing *spoke.*
“Password accepted,” a pleasant baritone issued from somewhere on the machine, “Greetings Commander Xander, permission to file VSR?”
“What!?” he blurted out meaningfully.
“Permission to file VSR?”
“Ok?” he replied without thinking, eliciting an immediate series of slaps on the shoulder from Cordy.
“I am pleased to report that I am running at peak efficiency, and am 100% combat capable. I have full stores of ammunition for all non energy based weapons. I am, however, unable to contact any of my brigade mates. If you and your… companion, would please step aboard my command deck I will detail the escape plan I have devised and make changes if necessary, pursuant to any additional data you might have.”
Xander, sweat beading on his brow, swallowed heavily as he considered the implications of the fact that this incredibly advanced piece of heavily armed military hardware, thought he was its commander.
“So let me get this straight, with me being your commander, you’re supposed to follow my orders?”
“As long as said orders do not endanger the lives of non-combatants, then yes commander.”
“So if I asked to you to do something right now which would kinda save a whole bunch of people, you’d do it, right?”
“Oh, *hell* yes,” said a grinning Xander.

The End.

Thanks for reading, this is my first ever fanfic that I actually posted anywhere. I would appreciate it if any reviewers would point out the spelling and grammar mistakes they could find.
Look out for another story coming soon, this one will have been beta'ed :)

Oh, almost forgot! Crossover is with Keith Laumer's Bolo series. Free samples of which can be found at
I highly recommend them to any fan of military Sci-fi.

The End

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