It wasn't until the fourth shot of Wild Turkey that Piers began to feel a haze in the corners of his naturally sharp oculars. He blinked his eyes a few times, but he couldn't seem to shake the feeling. It had began deep in his stomach, a heavy warmth weighing down had begun to spread through his extremities like a heavy blanket. Andy whistled and lifted a calloused hand to snap his fingers for the waitress, quickly ordering another round of shots. Piers laughed, over Andy slurring his words rubbing a hand through the front of his hair, watching his behavior with a bemused brow. Shortly after, the curly-haired, homely waitress had sashayed towards the table as Andy reached to snatch shot glasses up in one swoop, placing one upon the table in front of himself, one in front of Piers; pausing as he shot a mischievous smirk over at Marco, slamming down the glass in front of Piers. "Come on, Andy! Quit dicking around before you get yours kicked by my steel toed boot." Even as Marco growled, Andy lifted his index finger and shook it, a tsking noise between his teeth as he leaned back in his chair, smirking still until his gaze fell down once more upon their waitress. Leaning back in his chair a bit more so the waitress couldn't see his face, he made a face and grimaced in obvious regards to the waitress' face, before pausing to cant his head and take a gander on her bent over ass while she gathered up a few empty shot glasses, shrugging up his shoulders afterwards, as if her ass made up for it.

"-Why thank you, sweet thing. All the girls 'round these parts bloom as pretty as you?" Andy clenched his teeth and did his best to give a charming grin, despite it being fake as monopoly money. Piers felt color rush to his boyish cheeks and couldn't help but shake his head with a lopsided grin. After the waitress gave Andy a very uninterested look with eyes that had been layered in a week's worth of eye shadow, she promptly stepped away; Andy smacking the table with his open hand and gasped as if he'd just let out an bated exhale of air. "Well fuck me sideways, boys, I lose another bet. Piers Nivans actually puts another woman to shame by looking like a fuckable cheerleader and a Toys-R-Us poster boy had a baby. Not that i'm saying your mom fucked a kid from Toys-R-Us, Piers, I'm sure Marco's wife has that shit covered. Fuckin' baby maker." Snickering promptly afterwards as Marco balled a fist and jutted his middle finger out directly across the table in the direction of Andy's face, the man threw his hands up innocently. "Come on now, Marco, this is our boy Piers we're talking about. You don't want him to have just a few more drinks with the guys? It was his first assignment after all. It'll be fun, maybe afterwards we can play that game with the sleeping Captain, where one of us gets a pair of Roger's used boxers and a permanent marker, you know, the one where we draw a moustache on 'im and put the boxers on his head so he looks like that ... that," snapping, "fuckin' Norwegian muppet chef." Andy squinted his eyes as he pondered the ethnicity of the damned muppet chef, reaching down with his right hand to snatch up his shot glass as he raised it as a silent toast while Marco chuckled under his breath and shook his head at the joke. "How many more shots you think before he throws up on his shoes Marco?" Andy chuckled slapping an empty glass upside down and flicking it across the bar, watching the indignation rise on Piers' reddening face, while he fought with the conflict of laughing and scowling. "Its okay baby boy, I'm not saying you drink like a twelve year old." He cocked his head at Marco who was still riffling in his pockets. "I'm taking the under. I say two more and kid is out cold, how about you?" Marco flashed up three fingers, his thumb cupping his forefinger down as he chuckled, not bothering to look up from his wallet as he counted the bills and leafing through them to find enough for another round.

Piers, was still barely stifling a laugh at Andy's teasing of the Captain, his cheeks were rosy red, burying his face into the inside of his elbow before he calmed enough to speak, his body twitching as he struggled not to laugh. Lifting his reddened face to speak, he caught his breath and spoke in a humored tone. "Swedish, Andy. It was the Swedish Chef." Looking up from his arm, his gaze went from Marco to Andy, both of whom looked at Piers as if they were shocked. It wasn't often that Piers engaged in a joke poking fun at the captain, in fact, every time Andy did, Piers would look upon him with a piercing gaze that in itself demanded Andy to shut up, and even then, he would still grab Andy by the collar and tell him to shut it. Clearing his throat, he quickly quieted as Marco shot him a knowing grin. Andy, on the other hand, still stared at Piers with his glass in the air, his brow arched in an impatient manner. It wasn't until Piers realized that Andy was waiting for him to lift his shot glass that he quickly reached down to snatch up the small glass, lifting it in Andy's direction before both of them downed the shots of Wild Turkey bourbon whiskey. Piers slowly tilted his head and craned his neck to the side while Andy already slammed his own empty shot glass down upon the table with a resounding smack. Coughing a little to alleviate the lingering taste in the back of his throat and the burning in his stomach, he could feel the warmth in his body reaching down to his fingers and toes. Twitching his nose, Piers closed his eyes for a moment while inhaling a deep breath through his pouted lips, before opening them only to notice that the other intimidating filled shot was pushed in front of him, Andy already ordering another round.

"Swedish, Norwegian, it's a damned muppet. Anyway, as hilarious as it would be hearing Captain Redfield bark an order in a Swedish muppet voice, the last time I tried to prank the fucker, he sat me down and told me that if I could beat him in an arm-wrestling match, I could get a raise. Not 3 seconds later I'm on the ground with a fractured arm. That was the punch-line to his joke, but hey, to the grim reaper's credit, he did have a medic on standby." Pausing to examine one of his arms as the shots came, Marco had quickly grabbed a shot glass of his own to make sure he didn't miss out this time. Andy casually reached for the other shot glasses, putting 3 down this time in front of Piers. It had only taken 2 of the shots splashing against the back of his throat to suddenly make the voices around Piers feel as though they were coming from farther away, yet Andy still jabbered all the same. "-So while the captain and Piers are playing 'Rambo,' with that fuckin' nightmarish hamster-looking B.O.W., I boot the hell out of a door to clear the area. What do I see? Two half-naked college female roommates huddled up on a bed. Fuckin' jackpot, right? I tell 'em an airborne virus was let loose in the near vicinity, and there's only one known anti-virus, it's called-get this-'jīng yè.' Which means somethin' like 'fluid of essence' in Chinese or some shit, I picked it up in a magazine at the dentist, you get the picture. So, long story short, a little slick explaining, and the best 10 minutes of my life were 2 college girls going to town on my cock thinking it was gonna save their lives. But hey, they lived anyway, right? So no harm, no foul. Just.. you know, don't ever tell the captain."

Piers quirked a furrowed brow as he halfheartedly listened to Andy's story, noting the immediate face-palm which Marco gave while he laughed, trying not to draw attention to the fact that the captain wasn't too far off and gave a sligh head bob in his direction as a reminder. "Andy, you're telling me ... that while me and the captain were eliminating a hamst-a SOC-85 prototype, you were taking advantage of a couple innocent civilians?" Unfortunately, Piers' berating had significantly less impact as he pointed a finger of accusation in the direction of Marco, who responded by blinking rapidly and putting his hands up innocently. Groaning, Piers shook his head and snatched up the last filled shot glass placed in front of him, tilting his head back as he leaned back against the uncomfortably sticky chair, dumping the contents of liquor down his throat. What the hell, it wasn't as if it could get any worse, right? Across the bar, Chris Redfield had made sure to keep an eye on Piers as the kid went past the point of inebriation. Some people were lightweights, the captain was not. They met eyes brielfy when hazel eyes scanned for him, giving a small lopsided grin that Chris returned with a shake of his head. Chris was clutching a bottle of whiskey in his powerful fingers, lifting it to take a swig. The liquor stopped burning long ago in Kijuju. Chris' hulking, muscular frame was shrouded in shadows as he sat alone in a booth, his back against the wall, burly shoulders covered in a dark leather jacket. Narrowed eyes had kept on Andy like an eagle as he seemed to inch closer to Piers. If the joker had any funny ideas about Piers while he was drunk, he may have to put him in his place, he knew very well what his team's idea of rookie initiation was, and Piers had the unfortunate perk of being pretty.

Nearby, Rogers looked upon the brooding captain with awe and wonder, still star-struck by the fact that he was drinking in a bar near Chris Redfield, he was working for Chris Redfield! They'd been working together for almost a year and the guy was still in shock and awe. Piers snatched up a beer nut from the nearby bowl on the table and squinted an eye, he would have shown off by pelting the nut directly between Andy's eyes, but as he flicked the nut, it went wide. As the nut smacked against a young woman's ear just as she was about to kiss her biker boyfriend, she squeaked and clutched at her ear, the biker's eyes flaring wide as he looked around for the culprit. "So what's next, Andy... you going to have us play freeze tag, truth or dare, maybe some god awful game of chicken? And you call me juvenile. Or are you just going to slither into the bathroom and rub one out? Such a dick."

Andy's face was plastered with that shit-eating grin as he watched Piers and listened to his slurred words. While Piers managed to get out his words well enough, they were a dead giveaway as to how drunk the captain's golden boy actually was. Clearing his throat under his breath, Andy leaned forward on the table with his arms folded in front of him, watching as Piers seemed to do all he could to look sober, and it failed. "You know what? I think it is time to play a game. I would say truth or dare, but we all already know the one-eyed wonder sniper would cop out like a bitch and say truth, and expect me to ask what kind of milk he drank last week in fifth grade. So why don't we just go with dare? It's all in good fun, right? So how about this, Nivans... there's no good piece of ass around this place for miles. So I dare you, Ken doll, to man up and give me a lap dance." Andy parted his knees and thighs, patting his lap and giving a wry smirk while Marco folded his arms across his chest and looked curiously over at Piers. "What's the matter pretty boy, we've got an audience. Thought our little ace likes putting on a show. Come on." Obviously, the eagle-eyed sniper was not in his right mind, and was out of his element. Piers had never been known to back down from a challenge, despite the obstacles. Both Piers and Andy seemed to regard each other for a moment, as well as two drunk men could. Marco chuckled from his chair, watching how they locked eyes a moment propping his feet up on the table and crossing them at the ankle, mouthing something at his partner that got lost in translation, winking once.

Pouted lips made of the stuff of dreams pursed as Piers' glazed gold flecked eyes watched Andy. Already cherry cheeks seemed to redden even further as he seemed to ponder it over for a long moment. Finally, the cocky, over-achieving part of him took the better of him as he lifted his chin proudly. "..Fine. Just don' be surprised when I world your rock. Marco,... can you put on some
music? No way in hell I can do this to Billy Ray Cyrus." Scooting his chair back, he stood up and shed the jacket that had covered his lean upper frame. Beneath it, he wore a white undershirt which fitted against the firm musculature of his abdomen. His belt had barely kept his pants up, yet he no longer cared in his inebriated state, and so the muscled V leading down to his crotch was quite visible, as well as the tattoo on the small of his back of the word: Sharpshooter written in cursive, the 'r' at the end looking as if a smoking barrel. Unable to see how Chris' eyes rested on it from the distance. Meanwhile, Andy pushed out of his chair and gripped the wooden table they had been drinking on, moving it to the side and bumping it against a table where a few patrons had been drinking cheap beer. Slipping back from the table in his chair, the legs catching on and dragging on the sticky wood floor making a hilariously ear piercing noise, almost tipping over backwards on the back legs as he tossed one to the back of his throat and held the other out between them. Each of the bikers eyed Andy dangerously, yet unbeknownst to them, an even more dangerous presence had been keeping an eye on them. Chris was the leader, and if it came down to it, he would be the disciplinarian to anyone who would dare try and attack his team. Andy snatched a wooden chair and placed it down in the now empty space, plenty of room for the golden boy to work. Leaving it there for Marco to join them, his arms leaned against the back of his chair while he grinned and waited, whistling at Piers as he took his jacket off. Marco grumbled about back country trash as he flipped through songs of the electronic jukebox which glowed. It seemed the closest he could get to a suitable song would be Ride wit Me by Nelly. One of the only hip-hop songs in the whole damn selection. Slipping quarters out of his pocket after digging about for a moment, he popped them into the machine, and pressed the button to begin the song and turned his head.

Timberland boots began to circle around the seated Andy as the young sniper never took his glazed eyes away from his brother-in-arms. Even as the hip-hop beat began to play, patrons sneered in protest at having their drinking interrupted by music they simply couldn't stand. As Piers moved behind the chair, he lowered a hand to graze his fingertips along Andy's collarbone, methodically sliding upwards against the shoulder until the pads of his fingers brushed across the crook of that neck and shoulder. Despite the fact that Andy never shut his mouth, there was a reason he was in the S.O.U. with the likes of Piers and Captain Redfield, he was good at what he did, and he was in fit shape. Finally, Piers stood before Andy, who already looked quite eager for what was to come, beckoning Piers forth with his index finger. Reaching down to grip at the hem of his undershirt, he lifted it up slowly while his finger slid across the hem slowly, the sculpted contours of his smooth abdominal muscles in view as they led down to that V teasingly pointing to his groin. Andy lowered his eyes to take a look at that lean stomach even as the shirt teasingly began to fall back down to cover it. Piers almost laughing when Marco came up behind him to cup the back of the rookie's neck to hand feed him yet another shot, tipping his head back and feeling the edge of the glass on his pouty bowed lips, the tangy liquid pouring down his throat and leaving a burn through his esophagus. It made his mouth water and his eyes squeeze shut before coughing into his fist, but it made his entire body feel warm while Marco slapped the shot down on the counter and handed another over to Andy. It didn't stop the younger man, Piers slidding down to his knees directly before the seated soldier and rolled his head back, finding himself being lost in the beat of the music, he rhythmically crawled up between Andy's parted thighs and paused as his head was between his knees, eyes ascending to stare into the other's while his arms lifted, placing his hands upon Andy's knees, teasingly moving his fingertips up until his hands were placed upon the man's muscular thighs. Andy swallowed hard as he simply watched the young sniper move as if he'd done this a hundred times before. Those hands which placed upon his thighs placing a bit of weight down upon them as Piers' face moved directly above his crotch and lap. Moving his face forward, the tip of his nose brushing against Andy's abdomen in an upward motion before his hips and legs straightened out, suddenly in a horizontal position above Andy's crotch on his toes. In unison with the beat, Piers began doing push-ups with his head moving up and down just above Andy's crotch, his face lifting once more to meet his comrade's while his puffy lips pouted just long enough so the tip of his tongue could flicker across his lower lip, before it pressed against the inside of his right cheek and bulged out suggestively, continuing with the push-ups.

Afterwards, the demolitions expert could only watch on as Piers dug his fingers into the strong thighs, tilting his chin down and lowering his head, his face slowly lifted as his face missed brushing against Andy's crotch by less than an inch. Continuing to lift his head, tilting it backwards as his back arched, popping his ass outward, the 'tramp stamp' in plain sight, as was the very top of the crack of his ass, which had suddenly become the focus of Andy's attention as he looked upon it almost hungrily. Reaching down, his palm brushed across Piers' lifted face, gently brushing his fingers across the sniper's full lower tier. In response to the touch, Piers couldn't help but grin inwardly as his lips parted, leaning forward to take just a bit of the finger in his mouth, his cheeks sucking inward while his lips slowly moved backwards and away from the finger, letting out an exaggerated sigh afterwards that was a dead giveaway that he may have been enjoying this a little too much. By now, the musk of Andy's arousal reached Piers' nostrils, causing his eyes to close while the explosives expert reached to grab at Piers' wrist, moving his hand directly against the side of his hard cock. "You like it on your knees Nivans. Make you feel like a proper whore... I bet you suck cock like a dream. Tell me baby boy, you want my dick between those pretty lips?" The sudden onslaught of words almost ceased the entire thing, Marco shaking his head encouragingly, watching how he looked to him almost quickly to be sure this was alright, though it seemed to wash over him as the music reached his ears, Piers was long gone drunk, but he was still young and completely inexperienced when dealing with these two. The luxury of being the only one not drunk was also being the one their little ace was looking to to be sure Andy was just 'talking.' "No need to look at him, keep those eyes on me when you're between my legs baby boy." Piers felt the pulsing heat through the material of the pants, but his hand moved away from his crotch, causing Andy to suddenly grab his wrist and once more shove it against his stiff tent. This time, Andy balled his fist around Piers', forcing the sniper's hand to slowly pump up and down around the tent, causing Andy to lower his chin and let out a hoarse groan, "There we go, tighten your grip and pump." Part of Piers' actually felt as if he could have kept that grip, that if he simply unbuttoned and unzipped those pants, it would be a hell of a lot easier to work at it, but his hand slowly pulled away as he struggled to catch his bearings. Marco chuckled leaning back further and giving Piers a reaffirming nod to Andy's lap, surprised the kid never lost a step in his haze.

Lifting his arms to place upon Andy's shoulders, he lifted himself and straddled his friend in the wooden chair, his hips grinding down against the other's. It was obvious to any who watched that Andy began to lose his inhibitions, reaching down to lift Piers' shirt, tweaking his nipples and causing Piers to grunt unexpectedly. Andy pressed his face against Piers' smooth chest, nuzzling his face back and forth, nipping at one of Piers' pectoral muscles, while his traveling hands moved down Piers' back and stuffed down the golden boy's pants, greedily groping at the firm ass while his fingertips dug firmly into the warm, fleshy cheeks. He felt Piers grind down against him completely unabashed and rolling his hips before pushing them forward, using the back of the chair as leverage, against Andy before Marco's hand snapped out, gripping him by the wrist and squeezing, drawing his attention with a chuckle, finding Marco's eyes trained on his hips before Piers rolled them again. "Slowly Nivans, slowly." The younger man raised a brow, nodding to him shortly before rolling his hips again, slower and more deliberately, feeling the heat in Andy's lap through his pants while he continued pushing comfortably down against him, gyrating his hips happily while Andy downed another shot, sharing it with Piers while he cant his head back, some of it intentionally dripping down his lips. Andy lifted his chin and placed his lips against Piers' ear, hoarsely whispering into it, "Nnnyeah.. we can take this to the bathroom, and I can stuff those cheeks with a real dick.. you like rifles, right? I got one right here for you to handle.."

Piers struggled with his own inhibitions, the hot breath upon his chest, the now perked nipples, and now the hands directly upon his naked ass beneath pants and underwear. Andy's 'proposition,' didn't help, his inebriated mind couldn't help but daydream the image of the agent he had scolded and stared down in training suddenly having him bent over the bathroom sink with their pants at their ankles, balls slapping away at his own ass with his own thick moans. Shaking his head to snap out of it, he slid down from the chair almost weakly and reached back to pull at the wrists buried down the back of his pants, pulling them away from his ass. He needed fresh air before he would do something he would regret, like sucking and fucking Andy Walker like a hungry slut. Alcohol was making him amazingly brazen, the memory that he hadn't been with anyone before this floating forgotten in the back of his mind and filled with instead with the idea of showing his brothers-in-arms that he could keep up with them. He shook his head, finally managing to turn around, his eyes sought the door, but Andy didn't relent. Piers felt strong hands upon his hips, and found himself being sat down upon that lap like a kid being forced to sit in class. He actually gave a surprised gasp as that tent of an erection Andy sported was suddenly shoving it's way directly between his cheeks. Reaching down to pull Andy's hands away, he would simply snatch at Piers' wrist and yank them aside again. "You want that don't you kid, feel my cock inside you. Whimper like a fuckin' girl I bet. Part your legs kid, ride it like you mean it." Hazel eyes were back on Marco, fluttering shut at the feeling of being completely man handled and barely able to keep himself from issuing a moan from the back of his throat, the same happy nod from Marco, who stood, grabbing a shot off the bar before pinning Piers' roughly back into Andy's lap, feeling his erection against him while Marco leaned him back until his head tipped against Andy's muscled shoulder, opening his mouth for the shot Marco fed to him, straying hands finding their way brazenly between the younger man's legs, clutching the taut muscles of his inner thighs until one hand rested between them, squeezing the fabric and kneading him, the younger man groaning and lulling his head to the side and hiding the full body blush that had taken over him in Andy's neck, Marco's fingers in his hair starting to tug him back. "Blushing little bride aren't you, open those cock sucking lips of yours and take your present like a good boy." Andy smirked, grinding up against Piers who was still rocking his body in time with the music, letting his face be drawn back to Marco who urged another shot down his throat, his sober scented mouth smelling like cinnamon as he leaned close and whispered in his ear. "Take it all Nivans, swallow every drop."

Andy was still rubbing, drawing friction between his legs. Andy hooked his own feet around the inside of Piers' pulling them open further to prey hungrily on him, letting Marco nestle a knee between his legs, the concern washed away as he let out a moan, swallowing the driness that took over his mouth over having them so adamantly lavishing affection on him, or the way Andy was rubbing him to distraction. Andy reached down to the back of Piers' pants and the waistline of his underwear, yanking down hard until Piers' entire ass was exposed, although his crotch still covered. And there they were, three B.S.A.A. agents in the corner of the room, one in a chair with a throbbing cock dry-humping the absolute hell out of another, with the supposed designated overseeing with a knee between his legs. Piers grimaced with inner-conflict as he felt the tent push up between his bare cheeks, pressing against his orifice. All it would take was the sound of a zipper going down, and that rock-hard cock would force it's way up his ass in front of everyone, and the scary thing? Part of him wanted it. "Come on eagle, earn those stripes." While Andy grunted continuously and humped at the bare, sweet ass of the sniper held firmly in his lap, Marco smirked, knowing that the two men were too drunk for their own good, leading pleasantly to something no doubt Piers would end up regretting in the morning; but at the moment they were like rabbits, and they were a clothing layer away from fucking, and at the moment Piers didn't seem at all to mind despite the blush he was unable to hide. "Andy..we should take this someplace else, old lady expects me home by tomorrow." Andy shot Marco a primal growl and a glare, causing his partner to clench his teeth behind his lips as he watched on while Andy continued his vicious grinding, nearly bouncing Piers' in his lap, the sniper actually letting out a shuddering groan.

"We're not going anywhere, right kitten, purr for me."

It was then that suddenly he was moved, not by his own, a burly hand had grasped his shoulder and pushed him aside hard enough that he found himself suddenly laid out on the ground on his side. As he lifted his head, his eyes widened at what he saw; their captain. Chris Redfield, grabbed Piers by the nape of his neck and yanked him off of Andy's lap like a toy; Piers looking very confused as he found himself suddenly bent over a table, forgetting that his ass was exposed to the world. Chris stood in front of Andy, his hulking frame casting a shadow down upon the sitting agent, and his eyes stared down at him with an unparalleled presence. Andy, drunk with bourbon and hormones, stood with an attitude to get in the face of his captain, before that large, iron-clad fist buried itself into Andy's stomach without explanation, grinding deep into his gut. He never saw it coming, he doubled over with Chris' fist still buried in his gut, and all he could do was vomit upon his own boots and the floor beneath. As he fell to the floor, Chris placed the sole of his boot against the side of Andy's head, grinding his face down into his own vomit for a moment before stepping away, Andy left gasping for air while his face was covered in all the contents that were once in his stomach. Chris moved methodically towards Piers, who had just managed to straighten himself out. Reaching down, Chris gripped him by the waistline of his pants, yanking them up to cover his ace agent's bare ass, and no one would ever know if the wedgie that followed, earning a yelp from Piers, was intentional. Snatching up Piers jacket, he draped it over his shoulders and growled a command into his ear that seemed to sober Piers up somewhat a splash of color as he looked down, adjusting his belt immediately, earning a nod as his back straightened, easing into his jacket while Andy still laid upon the floor, gasping for breath and sputtering at the vomit covering his mouth.

"We don't appreciate you faggots comin' up in here with your stink, shit heel." A metallic noise was heard, and Chris turned his head just in time to see a few patrons of the bar cutting off the way to the exit, the leader wielding a butterfly knife in his hands. Piers could probably be able to take a couple out, but he was too drunk to know if a knife from a spork. There was no way that Andy would be able to fight anyone in the state he was in, and Marco was unarmed. "Hey, faggot, you deaf? How about I cut you a new fuckin' ear hole? In fact.. let's teach these fags a lesson for their sin." As the leader of the gang flicked his wrist and flipped the blade in his hands, a few others had their own knives, and the few that didn't had found pool cues. As the first thug darted forward, brandishing a pool cue, he lifted it with a howl and brought it down towards Chris. Without any sign of effort, he brought up his forearm as the wood shattered and splintered from the impact, the biker holding now just a shattered wooden handle staring with disbelief. It was a moment of hesitation that would cost him,the thug's jaw giving a sickening snapping sound with the collision of Chris' fist against the side of his face with a right hook, immediately knocking the thug out as he fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes, teeth scattering on
the floor in front of his maw like dashed pieces to a game board.

As the second assailant, bald and dressed in tattered rags, made way towards Piers, the sniper had enough sense in him to pivot his foot and swing a leg upward in an attempt to land a roundhouse kick to the back of his head, but missed and tagged his shoulder, cursing under his breath. Even so, the thug had missed his target, but still sliced into Piers' forearm, the golden boy falling backwards as he lost his balance, not even seeming to notice the blood coming from his arm, and he was likely not getting back up due to his own inebriation. Chris saw red at the sight, stomping towards the thug who had attacked Piers and was preparing toattack the younger soldier again, a 'friend' attempted to leap in the way and take a swing at Chris, however, the captain simply caught the smaller fist in his hand and squeezed, bones breaking as he began hollar in pain before Chris reached up with his free arm and brought the man's face down directly into his colossal knee, easily breaking the thug's nose and turning his face into a bloody mess. As the man crumbled to the floor in defeat, Chris finally reached the one aiming for Piers. As the man lifted his arm with the knife at the ready to stab directly down into Piers' chest, the wrist was caught and twisted, causing a snapping sound from the wrist, the drunken tawny haired boy making a grimace at the sound before taking note of the move, Chris grabbed his broken wrist and slammed his hand down upon the table, causing a loud scream of pain, grabbing the man's other hand, slamming it down upon the wounded hand, causing yet another yell of pain before Chris took the thug's own knife and slammed it down into the flesh of the thug's pinned hands that it went straight through and into the table, pinning the thug there while he screamed in complete agony, with one hand upon the other and a knife through them both, pinning them against the table.

It hadn't taken long for each to be taken care of in turn, and the barkeep merely gawked at the sight of a gang of men being laid to waste by one man who hadn't even taken a scratch, but that man was Chris Redfield. Chris was someone who had gone through hell and back and survived, a group of punks meant nothing. Groans of pain were heard of thugs laying upon tables and the floor, each of them clutching at something broken. Chris turned and spoke to Marco in a calm, yet stern tone, "Pick up Walker and carry him out,Piers get your shit. I want us out of here in 2 minutes, understood?" Marco could only nod as he grimaced at the sight of Andy on the floor, and did as the captain instructed. By the time they had exited, Chris had thrown down enough money to cover it, and the bottle of whiskey he'd neared leaving behind. Watching Andy slowly getting himself together and groaning while Marco coaxed into being upright he scoffed, "He's your team mate Walker, touch him like that again and I'll suspend you for sexual harassment. His ass isn't your play thing, understand?" Chris voice had venom in it, hissing as he draped his arm around Piers shoulders to hold him from tripping on his own feet, and shooting the younger ace a possessive glare. "You are never drinking again, end of story Piers." He couldn't believe he'd just caught his sniper giving his unit a lapdance and letting Walker and Rose antagonize him enough to get a good handful of him. Piers was brand new on the team yes, and he was the youngest, and Chris never gave him unwarranted affection, that didn't mean he didn't want to though; watching that display just made the green monster rear its ugly head. He couldn't have him, he was just a kid, a ordinarily somber and vicious one that Chris enjoyed watching but not touching, and the same went for everyone. If Chris couldn't touch Piers without getting it from HQ neither could these two. And a tattoo? When had he gotten that, it wasn't on his personal record from the military? Clutching Piers all the tighter to him he felt the younger man starting to drop his head to his shoulder, knocked loose from his thoughts when Andy pushed passed Chris with a thud, glowering at him, and shooting Marco a nod to follow suit, but it was Marco who came up completely sober from the event, hooking his hand around Piers' waist and keeping him still despite the frustrated look the younger man was giving him for having taken him from Chris' side and his captain's glower.

"I'll take him back cap. He's practically unconscious anyway and I know you've gotta report the incident. I'm sober enough to get these two back to their rooms. Motel is the opposite direction from the cops right, so I get it, its okay, I've got him."

"Bu' Cap'ain was-

"Yeah alright," Chris relented his hold around the younger man's shoulders, watching his stumble on himself the longer the alcohol had to work through his system. Chris would have rather spent his night dealing with what to do with those three. It wasn't the first time Walker had hit on a team mate, he'd do just about anyone with a nice enough ass, and Piers certainly had more than that going for him. Didn't help that he was grinding it down into him like he needed it just to feel complete. And Marco worked in pairs with him, damn voyeur liked getting a rise out of Andy and finding him people to go with. The fact was it was Piers. He was a damn tyrant in the field, beat the shit form his team mates at every turn if they messed up and in training he'd blown them out of the water completely. He was as good as they came in their line of work, but once they had him drinking it was clear as day what kind of person Piers was, the kind he'd never willingly leave alone with Andy Walker. "Just get him to his room and let him sleep it off, Marco. Anything happens to you three and I'm taking this out on you. Nivans," The younger man looked up at him happily, always eager at Chris' insistence, and biting his bottom lip. "Don't cause anymore trouble. Be good okay? Just get yourself back in one piece."

Huh...