Eric Piers was a soldier. At least, he had always dreamed of becoming one. His father was a soldier, his grandfather was a soldier, and when he and his younger brother came of age, they both enlisted, dreaming of leaving their small town in the middle of Idaho for adventure. Only problem was, he wasn't let in. Some bullshit about not passing the physical. But look at him now, wearing a uniform and in another country, far from home. Still, he was only patrolling the hallways of a luxury hotel in Paris, but still. He was on official orders and in a bonafide militia. He was a hired gun and in his opinion, that made him even more of a badass than his brother ever could be. Plus, the maids in the hotel were cute.

They didn't wear the stereotypical outfit, but they were cute enough—much cuter than the broad he was guarding. He stood outside of Mister Honeycutt's hotel room, occasionally walking up and down the hallway to stretch his legs. On his chest was the Honeycutt honeybee insignia and on his hip was a handgun. He looked like bad news. It was really aggressive for France, but he had a job to do and he couldn't do it with his bare hands. After all, the boss said that the only people who might actually come for Minister Munier were supernaturals. There was no way that he could fight them off with his bare hands.

If only they'd come. The man yawned without covering his mouth, bored at the way things were going. It was quiet. Horrendously quiet. The only people who passed by were hotel staff and terrified-looking guests. He'd smile at them, not that it would help. They would try to ignore him, avoiding making eye-contact, only to politely force a smile when they did lock eyes before walking a little faster.

One maid, however, did not. She was a pretty thing, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and long eyelashes. She was pushing a cart with a drape over it and a few dishes on top. "Bonjour, Monsieur! I have room service for Monsieur Honeycutt. Oh!" As she came to an abrupt stop in front of the soldier, the salt shaker fell over, rolling off of the cart and onto the floor.

"I'll get it." the soldier replied with a smile, walking over to the spilled seasoning and bending down to pick it up.

"Oh, thank you, sir..." the maid answered, lifting the lid covering one of the plates and pulling out a rag hidden underneath it. "You're too kind..."

As the man stood up to return the object, he found the woman's arms around his neck, covering his mouth and nose with a wet rag. Finally, some action! The soldier instinctively reached for his gun, only for the woman to grab his hand with hers and shove it back into the holster, still keeping him locked in place with just one hand! She was strong. Too strong to be an ordinary woman. This was a supernatural!

Before he could launch into any more heroics, however, the soldier started to feel woozy. The more he fought, the harder he breathed, and the more he breathed, the more the room spun. Soon, his knees buckled underneath him and he fell to the floor in a heap. The much larger man was unconscious, leaving the woman as the victor.

Quickly, she turned him over, pulling a mirror out of her pocket. Looking at herself and then looking at the man, her face and clothes began to change. In a ball of black fire, the maid became a perfect copy of the soldier before shoving the man's body onto the bottom shelf of the cart, folding him until he was completely hidden.

No cameras would be able to see this. Jim had already made sure of that. Holding his hands together, he unraveled his demonic garb, freeing his cellphone from its threads. Very quickly, he sent his beau a message.

"Green light on Operation: 'Bugs Bunny.' Proceeding to extraction."

In another ball of fire, the phone disappeared again and he shoved the cart out of the way. Clearing his throat, he raised his hand to knock on the door. There were a handful of soldiers. He could sense them. Still, he had a job to do. He'd just play things by ear, is all. When the door opened, he smiled at the man on the other side.

"What is it?" the man asked. "It's not time to switch yet."

Jim opened his mouth to speak, only to realise that his American accent… was bad. There was no way he was going to be convincing. Thus, he simply gestured for the man to come outside, looking around as if it were something serious. Much to his surprise, it actually worked and the man followed him, only to be knocked to the floor with a swift punch to the face from the menace.

"What was that?" a voice called from inside. Jim walked through the door and into the suite, smiling as he was met by one of the soldiers coming to investigate the sound. "Hey! What's going o-"

He let out a choking sound as the demon lightly struck him in the throat. The other soldiers stirred to their feet as Jim grabbed the struggling man's shoulders and spun him around, placing an arm around his neck, using him as a shield as his compatriots drew their weapons. Pushing him forward, he charged one of the others, picking up the soldier in his grip and throwing him, knocking the both of them to the ground.

A few steps. Jim dropped low to the ground as a few shots went off. He moved like an animal, keeping his feet firmly planted on the ground as he advanced, his hands crawling in front of him until he leaped into the air as a bullet became embedded in the floor where he was. Grabbing hold of the chandelier for a moment, he swung himself at the soldier firing at him before letting go, kicking him in the head and knocking him unconscious.

"What the fuck?!" Don't be so loud. That's a good way to be knocked unconscious by a flying ashtray. Getting up from beside the side table, Jim moved before he could be shredded along with the furniture under a hail of bullets.

One, two, three, four steps. A broken arm. Jim gripped the wrist of the soldier in front of him with one hand and pushed up on his elbow with the other. It worked like a lever. The elbow was the weak spot, causing the arm to snap under the tension. The man dropped his gun. Two left.

The man who was thrown took a swift kick to the head while he was still down, while the man who he was thrown at tried to sneak away. He was heading toward the phone, crawling along the floor as to not attract attention. Propping himself up on the floor, he picked the phone up off of the receiver, only for a hand to be placed over his and slam it back down. In his other hand, Jim picked up the lamp beside it.

"Ain't I a stinker?" It was a bad impression, but Jim doubted the man would remember it, anyway.

All nearby enemies were incapacitated. No shots were fired on HELLSING's side, with zero fatalities on either. There was one last human presence that Jim had not interacted with yet, however. Heavy boots crossed the floor, stepping out into the hallway. Picking up the body of the soldier sprawled out on the hallway rug and slinging him over his shoulder, with his other hand, Jim grabbed the handle on the cart and backed into the door, leaving them both in the room before advancing.

Miss Munier was further inside, locked inside of the master bedroom. Holding up his index finger, he placed the tip of it against the lock, worming his demonic threads into the small opening in order to mimic the shape of the key. With a flick of his wrist, the door was open and as the demon took one step into the room, a candlestick holder struck him upside the head.

Now, it was definitely hard enough to hurt or even knock a human being unconscious, but it only startled the demon a bit. Jim blinked, looking at a very distressed Minister Munier with an arched eyebrow. She didn't look injured, but her eyes were wide and sweat gathered at her forehead as she trembled. After a moment, a look of horror appeared over her face as she recognised the uniform.

"I-I'm so sorry!" she immediately stammered. "I thought—I just—There were gunshots, and-"

"It's okay, Minister Munier." Jim replied, smiling in a much kinder way as he put up his hands. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to get you to safety. We don't have much time, though. We need to go right now."

"I-" She didn't trust him at all. He looked like one of the soldiers that had been keeping her there for the last few days, but what choice did she have? Slowly, she nodded, shoulders slumped and her gaze averted. She moved to put on her shoes, only to be stopped by a voice.

"Miss Munier..." it called, prompting her to turn around to face the man. The flood of relief that washed over her was immense. It was enough to bring tears to her eyes. There was Sir Phantomhive, looking back at her and offering her a thumbs up. "...It's going to be okay."

She wept as she put on her shoes and gathered her things, relieved that the end of her ordeal was nearing. Jim donned another disguise, taking her by the hand and quickly leading her out of the building as fast approaching police sirens screeched a little ways down the street. Time was of the essence, so he shoved her into the first car he could jimmy open, ripping the panel out and placing a few wires together. He crashed into the security gate on the way out, forcing it open as he sped down the street. Once things seemed to mellow out, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, his eyes darting from the road to the screen and back again as he typed.

"2 is green" he said before hitting "send," shoving the device back into his pocket. Looking over at the woman, she seemed to be in a trance. Unsurprising, given her circumstance.

Everything seemed like a dream. She had been involved in elaborate military operations before, but never in her life had she even dreamed that she might be involved in a situation like this. Being rescued by a dashing hero, stealing a car and being driven away into parts unknown… Forty-two years old, and she was involved in this sort of thing! If you had told her this would happen mere weeks ago, she would have laughed in your face. Now, she felt numb. She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. She hadn't the strength to question anything anymore. This was her last stop. If she had to fight anybody else anymore or see anymore crazy shit, she didn't think she could keep going.

"You still with me, Munier?" Jim asked, breaking the silence. The woman realised her eyes were closed.

"Yeah..." she answered. "I'm with you..."

"We're headed to the ocean." the menace answered. "I hate the ruddy ocean, but we've got no options."

"Are we taking the ferry?"

"No. Too risky. Some HELLSING operatives are going to meet us. Illegally, of course. They've commandeered a ship. Don't worry, though, you'll be in good hands. As soon as you're out at sea, it'll be smooth sailing from then on."

He drove for hours, never pulling over once. Eugenia eventually passed out in the passenger seat, snoozing away like they were on some road trip. When the road ran out, they'd be at the ocean. Jim didn't like it, but it was a mean to an end and in the end, all that mattered right then was getting Miss Munier to safety. He could only imagine what his beau was doing right then. Probably having a lot more fun than he was.


A/N: They're not out of the woods yet, lmao. We'll save that for next time, though.

I feel like the image of Bugs Bunny kind of suits Jim in a weird way? He's really not that into cross dressing these days (it's a reminder of his attention-seeking teenage years, I guess? Pff) but he's a bit of a trickster.

Until the next chapter, my duckies~!