A/N: Welcome to chapter 32 of Paradox Effect. Last where we left off, Wyoming got sucked into the bullshit. Now he has to deal with them, York, and god knows what else. He'll live, right?

Well, his sanity sure as fuck won't survive.

Paradox Effect

Summary: Dying sucked. Dying and being killed by the same teammate again? That sucked even more. Dying and being thrown back into Blood Gulch as a girl? That REALLY sucked. Now, Leona Church will have to deal with Tucker's perverted looks, Caboose's stupidity, and worst of all, Tex's laughter…

*Chapter 32*

Wyoming didn't hate York, he decided. In all actuality, he never really disliked him, even though he did once throw an entire locker at him during the downfall of Project Freelancer. He did say that he thought York was a decent fellow and hated that he had to kill him.

No, Wyoming decided he really hated the Reds.

The leader, who he found out was actually named, 'Sarge', was a stereotypical senile old man who had spent way too much time in the military. And he also had a fear of heights, presumably from his time as an orbital drop shock trooper, or ODST for short. Hard to believe that someone who spent most of his life on the front lines fighting the Covenant threat was reduced to mere cannon fodder for Freelancers.

Grif, well, he was actually the smartest one from what Wyoming could tell. He was just a fat lazy jackass, but if he cleaned up a bit he would be a hell of a lot more tolerable. Good God the stench of that man's socks was something the Freelancer wouldn't be able to forget for awhile.

Simmons for lack of a better term was a kiss ass. That's it. He was literally the worst kind of person. When Wyoming was led into Red Base, Simmons went out of his way to make sure every need was met. Perfectly made bunk, refreshments, you name it. Wyoming didn't mind being spoiled a little after the shit he had been through in recent weeks, but for fuck's sake, he needed some time to breathe.

Donut…he wasn't going to go there. It was better for his sanity.

Wyoming was currently out patrolling for any kind of enemy movement on the cliffs, which he had personally dubbed, 'Shark's Mouth' due to the way the mountains looked like a shark's head. It was just a nice fancy name he came up with for it.

He settled himself into a comfortable position on his stomach and set up the tripod on his sniper rifle, resting it against his shoulder. It was a mere scouting run so he only took two magazines including the one currently loaded. Eight shots, eight potential kills.

He doubted it would come to any sort of actual combat, but he did like being prepared in the event York or God forbid Tex decided to shoot at him. Actually, he was more scared of the woman who punched him in the face. He couldn't forget how hard of a punch she had. It was essentially a miniature Tex.

Wyoming looked through the scope of his rifle, looking at Blue Base and clicking the black button for the scope's zoom feature. His moustache furrowed in concern when he saw that the Blue Team's tank was in fully functional condition. If they decided to assault the Red Team, there wasn't much stopping it unless they had a rocket launcher somewhere in their armory. He didn't spot one when he was down there earlier cleaning his weapons but he could have overlooked it. He wasn't perfect, despite trying to be if only to shut up a few of Project Freelancer's other sharpshooter specialists.

God he hated losing that contest to North. Smug asshole never let him live it down that he finished third in a contest where one of the three contestants was technically blind. Jackass.

He lowered his rifle with a frown, marching back down from the cliffs and heading towards Red Base again. 'Hm. Blue Team has stronger base defences than I initially thought. Bugger. An all out assault wouldn't do much other than result in all of our deaths. So that leaves tactics and outsmarting the bastards.'

Wyoming was slowly nearing the point of the only reason he wanted to kill York was so he could get the fuck out of this goddamn canyon. He was growing an irrational hatred of the desert with each passing minute. 'I officially hate this goddamn canyon.'

If he had access to a Covenant battlecruiser with a functioning ventral beam, he would have this accursed place glassed from orbit. He hated it that much already and he wasn't here for even a full day.

"I seriously hope York somehow has it better off than me."

Leona let out a weary groan as she slumped down in what was once York's seat. She had just finished helping clean Tucker's mess and had willingly carried her unconscious teammate into his disgusting room filled with porn. Good God the stench of those socks was unbearable. How her teammate and best friend lived like that, she'd never know.

"How's Tinkerbell doing?" Church asked, motioning to Tucker's room.

"He'll be fine. We're not that lucky." Leona rolled her eyes. "He just needs to sleep it off and he'll be back to his usual bullshit. Right now, I'm more worried about the fact that York is showing off more than I expected to see and Tex is still knocked out. I even waved chocolate under her nose."

"Did you try making out with her? Because that usually seems to work for you."

"Haha. You're a real comedian. Hey, I got a suggestion. Maybe you should do standup. Why make only our lives miserable when you can work over an entire crowd?"

"Go fuck yourself." Church glared at her.

"If I could, I wouldn't leave my room." Goddamn, these banter sessions were the equivalent of therapy for her. It was just relaxing having someone to talk shit with consistently. "Hey, uh, Church? How bored are you?"

"Bored enough to die again. Why?"

"Want to grab a few drinks and go yell random insults at the Reds? Just like the good old times?"

Church let out a chuckle and nodded. "You certainly know how to have a good time. I'll give you that much."

"Easy on the flirt. Otherwise Tex will get jealous." Leona smirked. "That reminds me, would you trying to get with me be considered masturbation or incest? Genuinely curious here."

…

"I fucking hate you sometimes."

"Now who's blushing?"

"Fuck you."

"No, fuck you."

A/N: Too much fun doing this. Way too much fun…

A Lovestruck A2#5371