A/N: Hello and welcome to chapter four. Been a bit of a delay I admit, but I felt the need to get this one out before I went to work XD. Enjoy!

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 put up with Tucker's perverted looks, Caboose's stupidity, and worst of all, Tex's laughter…

*Chapter 4*

Simmons was just finishing mopping the floors of Red Base when his ears caught the wondrous voice of his sergeant. The old man was drunkenly singing horribly at the top of his lungs about his car being like a puma, and Simmons was torn between finishing his duties like the obedient little private he was and going outside to see what the fuck was going on. 'What would Sarge do in this situation?'

'He'd make Donut do it.' Simmons cleared his throat loudly (drawing the ire of Grif as he to the fridge to grab another beer) and called out for his teammate. "Hey, Donut! Sarge wants you to finish cleaning the floors!"

"What? Why? I thought that was your job!" Donut yelled, poking his head out of his room with a glass of red wine in his hand. "It's still my wine and cheese hour for another two minutes!"

Simmons rolled his eyes under his helmet and sighed. Of course he knew it was still Donut's stupid little time he had for himself. He just didn't care; the pink soldier annoyed the fuck out of him and the sooner he got to work like the rookie he was, the better.

"Just fucking do it," he grumbled. "Sarge's orders."

"But my nails will get chi—"

"DONUT!"

"Fine, I'll do it! Sheesh Simmons, you need to take some yoga classes or something to get rid of all that negativity," Donut said, downing the rest of his wine in one gulp and giggling as he came out with his helmet in hand.

Simmons thrusted the mop into his hands and stormed away from him, making Grif chuckle. "Want to kill him already, don't you?"

"Yes." The maroon soldier scowled at his teammate's pimply face. "He's stupid, annoying, and I really want either Church or that chick in black to beat him within inches of his life." 'That's it. I fucking hate him. Even more than the Blues. Well, Church isn't too bad for a Blue.'

That last bit definitely was not a certain part of his anatomy doing the talking. Nope. He was even enough of a gentleman not to check out the sway of her hips, either. Even Grif hadn't said anything, and that was the biggest surprise. Simmons expected Grif to say some kind of smart ass remark or compliment her body. 'I'm amazed he's kept his mouth shut about it this long.'

"You know, Church is pretty hot as a chick," Grif said, finishing his beer and leaving the bottle on the counter to drive Simmons' OCD over the edge again. "She's got a nice ass."

There it was.

'Never mind. Fucking asshole.' Simmons sighed and was half-tempted to smack Grif over the head with the empty beer bottle. "You do realize that's Church, right? The asshole who has been trying to kill us?"

"Yeah. I also know that she's currently the only girl on our team," Grif replied with a shrug. He reached into one of the pouches on his chest armor and pulled out a pack of full flavor cigarettes, sticking one in his mouth. He lit it with a shiny black lighter and puffed out a cloud of smoke, whistling. "Goddamn. That shit hit the spot. Want one?"

Simmons gasped in horror. "What!? No! What the fuck do I look like to you!?"

"A nerd who needs to chill the fuck out from time to time," Grif said. He blew his next cloud of smelly smoke right into Simmons's face, making him gag horribly as it got through his suit's filters.

"Dude, what the fuck!?" Simmons coughed and tried to swat the smoke away, his hand flailing desperately at the hazy air. "You know I hate cigarettes!"

"Take one. I guarantee you'll enjoy it." Grif smirked and waggled one in front of him, trying to entice him in taking one of the god awful things.

"Fuck no." Simmons backed away, flat out refusing to take it. "I'm a vegan!"

"Tch. Pussy."

"Fuck you, jackass. I'm going outside."

"Why, to kiss Sarge's ass some more? Or maybe you want to call him 'Dad' from now on?" Grif smirked.

"Shut up, fatass." Simmons rolled his eyes and walked away from his teammate. How he put up with them for this long without snapping and committing mass murder, he didn't know. 'I hate them. I hate all of them.'

He grabbed a magnum from the armory before he headed outside. He wanted to have a weapon on him in case the Blues decided to attack. He doubted they would, seeing as they were fucking lazy, but he couldn't be too careful.

When he got outside, he was greeted with a drunkenly singing Sarge and a smug Church. His jaw fell open at the sight, his eyes wide as saucers. "What…the actual fuck happened?" 'No way. Why is Sarge drunk?'

Church looked over at him, and she smirked. "Oh, hey it's the nerd. No robots out here for you. Sorry."

Simmons refused to come back with a snarky remark, even though her comment definitely stung a bit. He wasn't a nerd, he was an intellectual! He'd have the last laugh when he was in charge. "Um, what did you do to Sarge?"

"I didn't do anything. He's too much of a bitch to handle his shit," Church replied, shrugging. "Shit man, I thought he'd be able to handle a few beers. What kind of sergeant can't out-drink his own subordinates?"

Simmons looked at the many empty bottles around her on the ground, and he narrowed his eyes. "How many of those are yours?"

"Eight or nine."

"Seriously? How the fuck are you still standing?"

"Dunno. I'm not bitching about it though. This new body isn't half bad. If I could just get over the fact that I can't write my name in the sand with my piss anymore, that would be fuckin' great."

"…is that really what's been bothering you the most? You turned into a fucking girl, and that's your biggest complaint?"

"Yeah, kinda." Church gave a shrug, throwing an empty bottle at the Warthog. The sound of breaking glass broke Sarge out of his drunken singing, and he stumbled.

"Hey! Who in Sam hell is breaking shit!?" he yelled.

"Grif," Church and Simmons said at the same time. Both looked at each other in surprise; they didn't expect to both say the name of the fat soldier.

"Don't do this shit to me," Church muttered. "Otherwise, I'll have my ex kill you."

Simmons thought about the words she just said as Sarge went off to beat the living shit out of Grif for the umpteenth time, and he frowned. "Wait…you dated a girl."

"Yeah."

"…"

"What?"

"Does that now make you a lesbian?" he asked.

Church let her head crash on the Warthog with a groan, drawing the ire of Lopez as he came out from the work shed with a can of motor oil in hand. "Oh for…I can hear Tucker wanting to see me and Tex make out in front of him now."

"Tucker? You mean that annoying dude in the teal armor?" Simmons asked. "Or is it aqua? Turquoise?"

"Dude, I don't fucking know. I haven't figured out what color his armor is, and I've been here as long as you," Church sighed. "And yes, he's fucking annoying. He's the only reason I'm actually over here."

"Wait, why?"

"He kept hitting on me, and for some reason I couldn't hit him with my rifle."

"You mean because your aim is shit." Simmons smirked.

"Fuck you." Church gave him an irritated look and the middle finger. "My aim is fine."

Simmons laughed. Yep, that was the Church he knew and actually didn't hate all that much. If anything, Simmons felt bad for her. Dying was bad enough, but being killed and turned into a chick? That had to be the worst thing ever.

They both heard Grif suddenly start screaming in pain from within the base, along with mad cackles and shotgun blasts, and Church raised an eyebrow. "Shit. Is this normal for you guys?"

"Yeah, pretty much." Simmons shrugged. "We all hate him. I think even Lopez does, and he doesn't even fucking speak."

"Huh." Church tapped her chin. "That explains why he didn't answer me when I asked him where the tool kit was. I thought he was just ignoring me."

"No. He's not too bad, once you get to know him a little. He hates Grif, and that's enough for me to like him," Simmons said, looking at the Warthog. The word 'Puma' had been spray painted on the side in the most ridiculous shade of bubblegum pink, and he groaned. "Why did you write 'Puma' on the side of the Warthog?"

"Because it definitely looks more like a cat than a pig. Just saying." Church smirked.

"It has fucking tusks! Name an animal with tusks!" Simmons scowled under his helmet.

"…a walrus." Church laughed at the scream of frustration Simmons let out at her answer.

"GODDAMMIT!"

Okay, hearing it once? That was just Grif being a dumbass. But twice, and from a different person? Simmons was sure someone was purposely fucking with him.

He pointed at her accusingly. "Grif put you up to this, didn't he?" 'He had to. Why else would she say walrus?'

"Dude, I have no fuckin' idea what you're going on about. I just think this looks like some sort of cat." Church grinned. "Even Tucker thought the same thing when we were spying on you earlier with the sniper rifle."

"Wait…you had a long range weapon in your hands." The maroon soldier froze.

"Yep."

"And you could see us very clearly through the scope as well as the…vehicle."

"Uh huh."

"…"

"…"

"…why the fuck didn't you shoot Grif?" he asked. "Sarge probably would've paid you in beer or something."

"Because we were told not to shoot by Command," Church sighed. "Believe me, I wanted to. But we were told not to shoot unless you decided to steal our flag. Which you did. Asshole."

"Please. Donut thought he was buying it at the fucking store," Simmons said with a scoff. "And you gave it to him."

"Not me. I was out inspecting our tank. That you fucking blew up." Church's eyes narrowed. "I'm not forgiving you for that."

"You attacked us!"

"You stole our flag!"

Both of them glared at each other for several tense seconds, and then Church finally sucked her teeth and turned her attention back to the Puma as it was now called. "Hey, Simmons? I want your opinion on something."

"What?" he asked, being a good person and not looking at her rear end like Grif. Nope. Wasn't tempting at all. 'Don't be like Grif. She was once a guy. Remember that.'

Church picked up a wrench and gestured to the Puma's heavy machinegun. "Do you think Sarge would bitch at me if I put a few rocket launchers on the back of this instead of a machinegun?"

"I'm not sure it would work," Simmons said. "I think it would be too much torque or something."

"I didn't ask for a fucking science lesson. I asked if he'd be pissed, you goddamned nerd." Church rolled her eyes.

"Well…no," he admitted. "He'd probably use it to kill Grif though."

"Good enough for me. Maybe he can do me a solid and kill Tucker while he's at it." Church immediately went to work on the Puma, carefully unscrewing the bolts that held the gun in place. "Oh, and if for some reason my team decides to attack, make sure you hit Tucker as hard as you can. I haven't forgiven him for saying I had nice tits."

"Isn't your team worried about you though?" Simmons asked.

"Hmm…" Church frowned and finished prying off one of the bolts. "Now that you mention it, I do wonder how everything's going over there."

Tucker had been in scary situations before. But right now he was absolutely terrified. He had just gotten out of the shower, and standing right in front of the door was a very angry blonde woman with an assault rifle currently pointed at his treasured manhood.

"Tucker," Tex growled. "You have until I count to three to explain where the fuck my ex is, or I will destroy the part of your anatomy you value most."

Tucker forgot all about his hands being the only thing keeping his towel around his waist and put them up in the air, backing up until he was against the wall. "Um…Church is…it's pretty hard to explain."

"One."

"Come on, give me a break!"

"Two." The bolt was pulled back.

"Okay, shit!" Tucker didn't want her to get pissed off and shoot him; he knew damn well how scary Tex was in the hour he had seen her in action. She was like some sort of half woman, half shark. Except the shark half had been given cybernetic powers and the woman half was one quarter jaguar.

"Well, where do I start?" he sighed. "Church…became a chick somehow after getting killed by Caboose again. I may have made a few comments on her body and she went over to Red Base."

"Is that so?" Tex looked at her rifle for a few moments before slamming her armored fist dead center in his chest.

Tucker immediately fell over, gasping hard for air. "W-what the fuck was that for!?"

"Look, if anyone's going to be hitting on my ex, it's me," she growled. "Now, get your ass dressed and get her the fuck back here."

"…wait, you're not surprised at the whole, 'Church is a girl now' thing? Seriously?" Tucker asked once his breath came back and Tex's rifle was no longer pointed at his crotch. He was almost ashamed about having an erection in spite of the threat of being killed.

"Eh, not really." Tex smirked and slung her rifle over her shoulder.

"He bitched like one when we dated."

A/N: Bit of a longer chapter to make up for the delay. I hope you enjoyed XD. Yes, the many horrible jokes will continue. I can't wait until we reach Season 4 and 5. Those are without a doubt my favorite of the Blood Gulch era. See you soon!

C. Strife #5371