[FIC] Fighting Dirty
Title: Fighting Dirty (2044 words) by ren
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers (Bay Movies)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Crosshairs/Drift | Deadlock
Characters: Crosshairs - Character, Drift, Hound, Bumblebee
Additional Tags: Sparring Session, Crosshairs is a BAMF, Drift is a BAMF, Even More Than Crosshairs, Drift is Jealous, and angry, Deadlock Makes an Appearance
Series: Part 5 of The Paratrooper and the Samurai
Summary:
The four bots are sparring together away from the Yeager farm. When Hound faces off against Crosshairs, he can't seem to control where his servos go. Drift is understandably, fragged off. He decides to teach Hound a lesson.
0000
Drift watched with barely contained rage. He could practically feel this optics shift from blue to orange with a tinge of red appearing around the corners.
“Watch your back!”
He breathed in deeply as Hound grabbed Crosshairs by his arm and threw him over his shoulder. The paratrooper let out a few choice words, rolling back onto his pedes in time to avoid Hound’s pede on his face.
Bee whopped beside him, cheering at both mechs. The four Autobots had relocated to a piece of land not far from the Yeager farm to spar. Drift had already gone at Bee, the scout had put up a good fight, but Drift had been fighting before the youngling was ever sparked. Defeat had been quick and effortless, much to the scout’s annoyance.
Crosshairs had gone all out on Hound, and the tactical vehicle had not pulled any of his punches either. Both mechs had been part of the Wreckers, if only for a few vorns before transferring to different units. Drift had been under Kup’s command as well, but he had never truly been part of what made the Wreckers so infamous: the sheer brutality they used in a fight was enough to make the Decepticons rethink on attacking them. Drift had always been more graceful when he fought, and was not in the habit of prolonging an opponent’s defeat. At least since he had defected.
Beside him, Bumblebee gave a noise of sympathy as Crosshairs used a dirty trick, throwing dirt in Hound’s optics and quickly placing himself behind the bigger mech, hitting the backside of his knee. Hound fell to the ground on his front with a curse. With a triumphant yell, the paratrooper tried to jump on the mech’s back, but Hound quickly rolled onto his back and kicked up, hitting Crosshairs in his chest plates and sending him flying backwards.
“Frag but yer quick for being so fat!” Crosshairs quipped, getting on his pedes and preparing to charge once again.
“And you’re a sneaky slagger Cross.” Drift grit his denta at Hound’s use of the paratrooper’s shortened designation. While they had all been calling him that for ages, it now felt too out of place to be used by anyone that wasn’t Drift.
Crosshairs snarled at Hound, his optics bright with adrenaline. They both stood at a standstill, Bumblebee holding his breath while Drift tried to keep calm. The sparring session didn’t bother him. Nor did it bother him that Crosshairs was probably going to lose. Hound was his problem.
Both mechs suddenly moved, each with their own war cry. They met in a flurry of punches and kicks. Hound got the upper hand, grabbing Crosshairs’ arm and pulling it against his own back. Then he used his whole frame to push the mech down onto the ground, face plates hitting the dirt hard.
“Ow you fragger!” He growled.
And Hound (the mech was practically on top the paratrooper), leaned down even closer, breathing against his neck. Drift’s optics were almost red. His servos itched to grab his swords. Hound was too close to Crosshairs for his comfort, it almost looked like the tactical vehicle was laying on the green mech, intimately nuzzling his neck.
“Yield?”
“Never!” With a snarl, Crosshairs brought his helm backwards hitting Hound and almost making him swallow the piece of ammunition he always had hanging from his lips.
Hound took a few steps away from the paratrooper, regaining his footing. Crosshairs meanwhile rubbed at his shoulder, glaring at the bigger mech.
“Won’t beat me that easily.” He said with a smirk.
“Well get your aft over here then. We aint’ got all day.” Hound shot back, his stance cocky and relaxed. The perfect bait to get Crosshairs angry. Drift absentmindedly made a note to teach the paratrooper more self control.
The stingray charged, coattails swaying behind him. He threw a punch at the unmoving and bored looking mech, only to be met with nothing. Hound sidestepped the paratrooper, and then brought his servo to slap him in the aft. Letting out a yelp of surprise and offense, Crosshairs lost his balance and fell forward.
Bumblebee laughed at the sight. Drift did not. He glared at the back of Hound’s helm. The swords master could feel himself shift from the Autobot who was calm and slow to anger, to the Decepticon that was very, very quick to attack and hurt his target.
Hound chuckled, staring down at the green mech. With a grunt, Crosshairs got up into a defensive stance. He hated that weapons weren’t allowed, but there you go. The paratrooper would make the most of it.
“We ain’t done yet Hound.” He said. Crosshairs then did something they all knew meant trouble. The paratrooper pulled his goggles over his optics, a slightly unbalanced smirk on his face plates.
[He dead!] Bumblebee said, servos over his helm.
Drift simply watched, knowing that the green mech’s craziest ideas seemed to surface when the world went red and blue.
Hound frowned and shifted his stance a bit. Just in case.
“Ah’m shaking.” He mocked blankly.
Crosshairs pounced. He sprinted at the tactical vehicle, taking advantage of Hound’s defensive punch to slide between the larger mech’s legs. He grabbed onto his back swinging himself up until he was in reach of Hound’s helm.
“Gotcha!” Crosshairs smirked, wrapping his arms around the weapons master’s neck in a tight hold. He pulled with all he had and managed to tip Hound backwards enough to make the mech lose his balance. However, Hound was not finished.
The tactical vehicle brought his servos up around his own head to grab Crosshairs arms, effectively keeping him in place. As he fell on his back the paratrooper got the burnt of the fall, with an extra bonus of Hound falling on him.
[Game over!] Bumblebee cried. Beside him, Drift slowly got up.
Hound took advantage that Crosshairs was winded and turned to straddle the mech, throwing a punch to his face.
“Yield!” He snarled.
Not one to admit defeat, Crosshairs threw his arms up to defend himself. As Hound drew his arm back again, the paratrooper sat up as far as he could, what with Hound still on top of him, and used another dirty trick. He poked Hound in the optics.
“Ow you cheating slagger!” The tactical vehicle got up and stepped away, a servo over his optics. Crosshairs rolled away, jumping onto his pede ready for another round.
Until a blue arm cut his view.
Blinking in surprise at the sudden appearance, Crosshairs backed away to stare at Drift. The swords master stood perfectly still, his back to him and arm outstretched to the side, the same arm that had kept Crosshairs from continuing the fight.
“What the hell samurai?” He growled.
Drift glanced at him over his shoulder. “My turn.” He said in a dangerous tone. Crosshairs raised his servos in a surrendering gesture, not missing Drift’s red optics nor the killing intent that spiked in his energy field.
“Wait your turn Drift!” Hound snapped, having recovered from Crosshairs’ move. “Ah got a paratrooper to choke with his own lines!”
Crosshairs would have snapped something back, but Drift violently stabbing his swords on the ground beside him shut him up.
“Scared?”
At that Hound glared. “Ah ain’t scared of you Drift. Bring it!”
He fell into an offensive stance, taunting Drift to make the first move. He shouldn’t have bothered. The samurai planned to anyway.
Crosshairs went to stand by Bumblebee, shrugging in a I-have-no-idea-what-is-going-on way at the scout’s inquisitive look.
“Don’t know bug, but Ah haven’t seen him this angry in awhile.” He said, putting his goggles back above his optics as he looked at the scene.
Drift moved toward Hound with the same deadly gracefulness a tiger stalks its prey. His face plates were blank, only his red optics showing any emotion. And he was pissed.
In one single motion, Drift attacked. Hound had only time to bring his arms up to defend himself as the ex-Con got into his personal space. Servos seemed to come at him from all sides, hitting once in different parts of his frame. But all hitting hard and landing on sensitive circuits. Hound groaned in discomfort, his sides relentlessly being targeted.
“Enough!” He snarled, throwing an arm out in a wide arc in an attempt to land a hit on Drift even though he was already moving. But the swords master was quicker.
Drift danced around the tactical vehicle, striking at different sensor nodes on the mech’s frame, slowly shutting off Hound’s limbs and slowing his reaction time.
“Stay still you fragger!”
From the sidelines, Bumblebee watched in astonishment. He couldn’t even speak as he watched Hound getting his aft handed to him. Beside him, Crosshairs stared in amazement, a grin on his face plates. He didn’t know what had brought this sudden spike of violence in the calm mech, but he liked it.
Drift’s movements were precise, elegant and lethal. His frame moved with the ease of the wind, finding a way without any difficulty around the punches and kicks that Hound threw. He would use his own frame as a weapon, his arms hitting with the strength of spears and legs landing on Hound’s frame with the same quick sting as whips.
This went on for many minutes. Drift was relentless. And while Hound cursed and growled, the swords master didn’t make a sound.
Beaten and exhausted, Hound fell on his servos and knees as another round of hits rained on him.
“Alright already, Ah yield.” He said out of breath.
Drift, standing straight slowly walked over to the mech. He kneeled down on one leg beside him, one arm on his knee as he leaned into Hound’s face plates.
“You will refrain from ever fighting with Crosshairs like that.” He said in a threatening tone, only audible to Hound.
The tactical vehicle blinked up at him in confusion.
“What?”
“I do not know what your true intent was, but I do not approve of the way you touched Crosshairs while you sparred. It was far too intimate for me to let go.” The deadly tone with which he spoke was enough to make Hound slightly afraid of the ex-Con. Judging by the red in his optics, he might as well be facing Deadlock. That thought did nothing to alleviate his situation.
“Ah don’t- Ah’m not-” Hound was at a loss for words. He understood what Drift was saying. He had been fighting dirty. Not like Crosshairs, who used dirty tricks like poking optics and even attacking from behind. He had wanted to make the mech as uncomfortable as possible, and that meant a few servos where the paratrooper would not want them. He hadn’t thought... he never imagined Drift would react like this.
“Never again.” He simply said.
Drift nodded, satisfied. He got up and retrieved his swords before making his way to the other two mechs. Bumblebee was still staring at him with a mix between awe and fear, but it was the other mech Drift was interested in.
“Well well well samurai.” Crosshairs smirked. “Wanna tell me what that was all about?”
Drift smiled, his optics back to their blue hue. “I was just setting some things straight. Nothing to worry about.”
The paratrooper arched and optic ridge. “Really now? Well, Ah guess Ah could always ask Hound about what ya two were talking about.”
The swords master was undisturbed. “You can if you like.” He shrugged walking past him and transforming. But not before landing a quick kiss on the green mech’s cheek.
::I will return to the farm. Are you coming?:: He asked in an innocent tone. With that he revved his engine and drove away at high speed.
Crosshairs stood there for a few seconds before the words made any sense. Completely ignoring both Hound and a slightly sickened Bumblebee, he transformed and raced after the Bugatti.
The scout watched the two cars drive away in absolute confusion. He turned, face plates full of questions, to face Hound. The mech had yet to get up, having turned on his back and with no signs of moving.
“Ah don’t know bug.” He grumbled. “Those two make no sense.”
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers (Bay Movies)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Crosshairs/Drift | Deadlock
Characters: Crosshairs - Character, Drift, Hound, Bumblebee
Additional Tags: Sparring Session, Crosshairs is a BAMF, Drift is a BAMF, Even More Than Crosshairs, Drift is Jealous, and angry, Deadlock Makes an Appearance
Series: Part 5 of The Paratrooper and the Samurai
Summary:
The four bots are sparring together away from the Yeager farm. When Hound faces off against Crosshairs, he can't seem to control where his servos go. Drift is understandably, fragged off. He decides to teach Hound a lesson.
0000
Drift watched with barely contained rage. He could practically feel this optics shift from blue to orange with a tinge of red appearing around the corners.
“Watch your back!”
He breathed in deeply as Hound grabbed Crosshairs by his arm and threw him over his shoulder. The paratrooper let out a few choice words, rolling back onto his pedes in time to avoid Hound’s pede on his face.
Bee whopped beside him, cheering at both mechs. The four Autobots had relocated to a piece of land not far from the Yeager farm to spar. Drift had already gone at Bee, the scout had put up a good fight, but Drift had been fighting before the youngling was ever sparked. Defeat had been quick and effortless, much to the scout’s annoyance.
Crosshairs had gone all out on Hound, and the tactical vehicle had not pulled any of his punches either. Both mechs had been part of the Wreckers, if only for a few vorns before transferring to different units. Drift had been under Kup’s command as well, but he had never truly been part of what made the Wreckers so infamous: the sheer brutality they used in a fight was enough to make the Decepticons rethink on attacking them. Drift had always been more graceful when he fought, and was not in the habit of prolonging an opponent’s defeat. At least since he had defected.
Beside him, Bumblebee gave a noise of sympathy as Crosshairs used a dirty trick, throwing dirt in Hound’s optics and quickly placing himself behind the bigger mech, hitting the backside of his knee. Hound fell to the ground on his front with a curse. With a triumphant yell, the paratrooper tried to jump on the mech’s back, but Hound quickly rolled onto his back and kicked up, hitting Crosshairs in his chest plates and sending him flying backwards.
“Frag but yer quick for being so fat!” Crosshairs quipped, getting on his pedes and preparing to charge once again.
“And you’re a sneaky slagger Cross.” Drift grit his denta at Hound’s use of the paratrooper’s shortened designation. While they had all been calling him that for ages, it now felt too out of place to be used by anyone that wasn’t Drift.
Crosshairs snarled at Hound, his optics bright with adrenaline. They both stood at a standstill, Bumblebee holding his breath while Drift tried to keep calm. The sparring session didn’t bother him. Nor did it bother him that Crosshairs was probably going to lose. Hound was his problem.
Both mechs suddenly moved, each with their own war cry. They met in a flurry of punches and kicks. Hound got the upper hand, grabbing Crosshairs’ arm and pulling it against his own back. Then he used his whole frame to push the mech down onto the ground, face plates hitting the dirt hard.
“Ow you fragger!” He growled.
And Hound (the mech was practically on top the paratrooper), leaned down even closer, breathing against his neck. Drift’s optics were almost red. His servos itched to grab his swords. Hound was too close to Crosshairs for his comfort, it almost looked like the tactical vehicle was laying on the green mech, intimately nuzzling his neck.
“Yield?”
“Never!” With a snarl, Crosshairs brought his helm backwards hitting Hound and almost making him swallow the piece of ammunition he always had hanging from his lips.
Hound took a few steps away from the paratrooper, regaining his footing. Crosshairs meanwhile rubbed at his shoulder, glaring at the bigger mech.
“Won’t beat me that easily.” He said with a smirk.
“Well get your aft over here then. We aint’ got all day.” Hound shot back, his stance cocky and relaxed. The perfect bait to get Crosshairs angry. Drift absentmindedly made a note to teach the paratrooper more self control.
The stingray charged, coattails swaying behind him. He threw a punch at the unmoving and bored looking mech, only to be met with nothing. Hound sidestepped the paratrooper, and then brought his servo to slap him in the aft. Letting out a yelp of surprise and offense, Crosshairs lost his balance and fell forward.
Bumblebee laughed at the sight. Drift did not. He glared at the back of Hound’s helm. The swords master could feel himself shift from the Autobot who was calm and slow to anger, to the Decepticon that was very, very quick to attack and hurt his target.
Hound chuckled, staring down at the green mech. With a grunt, Crosshairs got up into a defensive stance. He hated that weapons weren’t allowed, but there you go. The paratrooper would make the most of it.
“We ain’t done yet Hound.” He said. Crosshairs then did something they all knew meant trouble. The paratrooper pulled his goggles over his optics, a slightly unbalanced smirk on his face plates.
[He dead!] Bumblebee said, servos over his helm.
Drift simply watched, knowing that the green mech’s craziest ideas seemed to surface when the world went red and blue.
Hound frowned and shifted his stance a bit. Just in case.
“Ah’m shaking.” He mocked blankly.
Crosshairs pounced. He sprinted at the tactical vehicle, taking advantage of Hound’s defensive punch to slide between the larger mech’s legs. He grabbed onto his back swinging himself up until he was in reach of Hound’s helm.
“Gotcha!” Crosshairs smirked, wrapping his arms around the weapons master’s neck in a tight hold. He pulled with all he had and managed to tip Hound backwards enough to make the mech lose his balance. However, Hound was not finished.
The tactical vehicle brought his servos up around his own head to grab Crosshairs arms, effectively keeping him in place. As he fell on his back the paratrooper got the burnt of the fall, with an extra bonus of Hound falling on him.
[Game over!] Bumblebee cried. Beside him, Drift slowly got up.
Hound took advantage that Crosshairs was winded and turned to straddle the mech, throwing a punch to his face.
“Yield!” He snarled.
Not one to admit defeat, Crosshairs threw his arms up to defend himself. As Hound drew his arm back again, the paratrooper sat up as far as he could, what with Hound still on top of him, and used another dirty trick. He poked Hound in the optics.
“Ow you cheating slagger!” The tactical vehicle got up and stepped away, a servo over his optics. Crosshairs rolled away, jumping onto his pede ready for another round.
Until a blue arm cut his view.
Blinking in surprise at the sudden appearance, Crosshairs backed away to stare at Drift. The swords master stood perfectly still, his back to him and arm outstretched to the side, the same arm that had kept Crosshairs from continuing the fight.
“What the hell samurai?” He growled.
Drift glanced at him over his shoulder. “My turn.” He said in a dangerous tone. Crosshairs raised his servos in a surrendering gesture, not missing Drift’s red optics nor the killing intent that spiked in his energy field.
“Wait your turn Drift!” Hound snapped, having recovered from Crosshairs’ move. “Ah got a paratrooper to choke with his own lines!”
Crosshairs would have snapped something back, but Drift violently stabbing his swords on the ground beside him shut him up.
“Scared?”
At that Hound glared. “Ah ain’t scared of you Drift. Bring it!”
He fell into an offensive stance, taunting Drift to make the first move. He shouldn’t have bothered. The samurai planned to anyway.
Crosshairs went to stand by Bumblebee, shrugging in a I-have-no-idea-what-is-going-on way at the scout’s inquisitive look.
“Don’t know bug, but Ah haven’t seen him this angry in awhile.” He said, putting his goggles back above his optics as he looked at the scene.
Drift moved toward Hound with the same deadly gracefulness a tiger stalks its prey. His face plates were blank, only his red optics showing any emotion. And he was pissed.
In one single motion, Drift attacked. Hound had only time to bring his arms up to defend himself as the ex-Con got into his personal space. Servos seemed to come at him from all sides, hitting once in different parts of his frame. But all hitting hard and landing on sensitive circuits. Hound groaned in discomfort, his sides relentlessly being targeted.
“Enough!” He snarled, throwing an arm out in a wide arc in an attempt to land a hit on Drift even though he was already moving. But the swords master was quicker.
Drift danced around the tactical vehicle, striking at different sensor nodes on the mech’s frame, slowly shutting off Hound’s limbs and slowing his reaction time.
“Stay still you fragger!”
From the sidelines, Bumblebee watched in astonishment. He couldn’t even speak as he watched Hound getting his aft handed to him. Beside him, Crosshairs stared in amazement, a grin on his face plates. He didn’t know what had brought this sudden spike of violence in the calm mech, but he liked it.
Drift’s movements were precise, elegant and lethal. His frame moved with the ease of the wind, finding a way without any difficulty around the punches and kicks that Hound threw. He would use his own frame as a weapon, his arms hitting with the strength of spears and legs landing on Hound’s frame with the same quick sting as whips.
This went on for many minutes. Drift was relentless. And while Hound cursed and growled, the swords master didn’t make a sound.
Beaten and exhausted, Hound fell on his servos and knees as another round of hits rained on him.
“Alright already, Ah yield.” He said out of breath.
Drift, standing straight slowly walked over to the mech. He kneeled down on one leg beside him, one arm on his knee as he leaned into Hound’s face plates.
“You will refrain from ever fighting with Crosshairs like that.” He said in a threatening tone, only audible to Hound.
The tactical vehicle blinked up at him in confusion.
“What?”
“I do not know what your true intent was, but I do not approve of the way you touched Crosshairs while you sparred. It was far too intimate for me to let go.” The deadly tone with which he spoke was enough to make Hound slightly afraid of the ex-Con. Judging by the red in his optics, he might as well be facing Deadlock. That thought did nothing to alleviate his situation.
“Ah don’t- Ah’m not-” Hound was at a loss for words. He understood what Drift was saying. He had been fighting dirty. Not like Crosshairs, who used dirty tricks like poking optics and even attacking from behind. He had wanted to make the mech as uncomfortable as possible, and that meant a few servos where the paratrooper would not want them. He hadn’t thought... he never imagined Drift would react like this.
“Never again.” He simply said.
Drift nodded, satisfied. He got up and retrieved his swords before making his way to the other two mechs. Bumblebee was still staring at him with a mix between awe and fear, but it was the other mech Drift was interested in.
“Well well well samurai.” Crosshairs smirked. “Wanna tell me what that was all about?”
Drift smiled, his optics back to their blue hue. “I was just setting some things straight. Nothing to worry about.”
The paratrooper arched and optic ridge. “Really now? Well, Ah guess Ah could always ask Hound about what ya two were talking about.”
The swords master was undisturbed. “You can if you like.” He shrugged walking past him and transforming. But not before landing a quick kiss on the green mech’s cheek.
::I will return to the farm. Are you coming?:: He asked in an innocent tone. With that he revved his engine and drove away at high speed.
Crosshairs stood there for a few seconds before the words made any sense. Completely ignoring both Hound and a slightly sickened Bumblebee, he transformed and raced after the Bugatti.
The scout watched the two cars drive away in absolute confusion. He turned, face plates full of questions, to face Hound. The mech had yet to get up, having turned on his back and with no signs of moving.
“Ah don’t know bug.” He grumbled. “Those two make no sense.”