A/N: Hello all and welcome to chapter 20 of this crack. Last chapter we saw our cast in various different parts of the galaxy and now we continue that XD. Hope you 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 20*

Sarge and Caboose walked over to one of the bases, the red soldier still confused as to what the hell he had just witnessed. He didn't know what the hell was going on, apart from there was obviously some form of battle like there was in Blood Gulch. Except with a lot more death.

He spotted a lone window in the back of the base and motioned for the blue soldier. "Caboose? Get over here. I need you to give me a boost."

"Okay!" Caboose said loudly, walking over to him. "You are a good leader and people like you a lot."

Sarge resisted the urge to use his shotgun for more practical purposes and sighed. "Not a morale boost, moron. I need you to give me a boost so I can look through that window."

Caboose looked at the window and shook his head. "Sir, that window is too high. I don't think you can reach it." Oh for fuck's sake. He was so not paid enough for this shit.

Sarge sighed in frustration and picked the dumb soldier up. No wonder Leona hated him so damn much. Caboose let out a startled meep but Sarge shut him up with a thump in the leg. "What can you see in there!?"

"Kill the Reds, kill the Reds, kill the Reds!"

"…you're not going to like it, sir," Caboose murmured.

Sarge had heard enough of it to know that the same thing was probably being said on the other side. He dropped Caboose like a sack of potatoes and pumped his shotgun. There was murder in the air tonight. Or whatever the hell passed for night here. According to his heads up display it was 2348 hours and yet the sun still shone brightly.

A loud war horn echoed throughout the woodlands and Sarge frowned under his helmet. "Funny. That sounds familiar. Almost like…"

"WHOO!"

Blue and Red soldiers poured out of their respective bases, each of them shooting at each other with a variety of weapons.

"Haha, take that bitch!" one Blue with a rocket launcher crowed. He was promptly shot by a Red crouched down behind a rock with a sniper rifle and he screamed. "Ow! You camping whore!"

"It's a legitimate strategy!" the sniper snapped back. He got hit in the back by the butt of a shotgun and he fell face first into the creek.

"Everyone! Everyone, stop!" one Red cried out. In his hands was something Sarge dreamt about one day holding. It was blue, big, and sexy. It was the Blue Team's most prized possession.

Their flag.

"Look! I have captured the Blue flag!" the Red yelled. "I alone am victorious! Now bow to your master, Blues!"

Not even three seconds later he was surrounded by every Blue still standing and beaten to death. Sarge chuckled. Son of a bitch had it coming, acting like that.

However, the Red and Blue soldiers again started shooting at each other. Sarge let out a defeated sigh and looked at Caboose. "Caboose, it pains me to say this, but we need to work together to get these idiots to stop pointlessly killing each other and tell us where the hell we are."

"Agreed, Mr. Sergeant."

Wyoming smirked under his helmet as he approached a guard, his trusty sniper rifle securely fastened to the back of his armor. The miserable fools guarding this facility had no idea that this was a Freelancer operation, so he didn't have to play by the rules.

He crept behind one guard and smacked him in the back of the head with his sidearm, knocking him unconscious for a moment.

Wyoming carried him off to somewhere a little more conspicuous, putting the soldier on his knees.

The soldier groaned and rubbed his head, looking at the white Freelancer. "Who…? Who the fuck are you?"

"Names aren't important, old chap," Wyoming replied. "I want to know something, and you're going to give me an answer. Nice and simple. You give me the wrong answer, I've got a problem. If I have a problem, then you have a problem. Clear?"

"Y=you've got it man!" The soldier cowered from the Freelancer.

"Right, now—" Wyoming was cut off from asking his question by a call from Freelancer Command. "Sorry chap, I have to take this. Hello?"

"Wyoming, it's the Director." Oh, fuck.

"Ah yes, how may I accommodate you today, sir?" Wyoming asked with fake enthusiasm.

"Agent New York has gone rogue," the Director said quietly.

"Is that so? Bugger. Hate to kill him. He seems like a decent fellow."

"Do not let your friendship with New York get in the way of your objective, agent. I need the Omega AI before Agent Texas releases it to the UNSC. Your new orders are to eliminate Agent New York and secure the Omega AI unit at all costs."

"Yes, sir." Wyoming ended the call and faced the cowering soldier with a grim smile. "Well, good news for you, my friend. I don't have time to torture you, so I'm just going to kill you instead. No loose ends, I'm afraid."

Before the soldier could even move, Wyoming's pistol fired a single shot. The man fell onto the ground with a bullet between the eyes and he holstered the weapon before stealing the soldier's security card. That would come in handy for breaking in.

He started to walk through the base until he came across the holding cell in which a very valuable asset to Project Freelancer remained incarcerated in. He expected the Alpha AI to be in some sort of body.

What he didn't expect was to find an angry blue haired woman glaring daggers at him and looking like she wanted to murder a basket full of puppies and kittens. "Hey, asshole! You gonna let me the fuck out or what?"

Wyoming paused for a moment and studied her. She did bear some resemblance to Carolina, but only a little bit. The personality was far much like Tex for his liking.

"Oh, well what do we have here?" he asked with a broad smile under his helmet. "I thought you would have been in a new body by now, Alpha."

A small white hologram appeared next to the woman and gave him the finger. Yep that was Alpha alright. "Fuck off, dude. God you're fucking annoying."

A fat soldier in orange armor yawned and lifted his head up from his resting place. "Who's this jackass?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "He's called Wyoming. He's in the same special forces program as Tex and York."

"Oh…fuck, we're so dead, aren't we?"

"Oh quit your bitching. Being dead is looking a lot more preferable to hearing you complain every five minutes."

Wyoming cleared his throat to get their attention. "Oh, dear Tex…I'd love to see her again. And York, too. Such a pleasant fellow. But I'm afraid I am going to have to kill him too."

"Wait until my ass gets out of here," the woman shot back with a growl, slamming her hand onto the bars.

"Ah but you won't. You're positively quivering in fear," the British Freelancer countered smugly. "You're not going anywhere. So you two enjoy a nice time rotting in prison. Tally ho, chaps."

He chuckled as he heard a frustrated scream behind him while he went off to go secure transport. He had important places to be and less time to get to them. If only he knew where the hell York was to make his job nice and easy for once.

He decided the Director was also an asshole. An asshole in power, but still an asshole.

York eventually did find Simmons. He was messing around with one of teleporters and for a moment he considered shoving him through it. Then he remembered his promise to Leona about not killing or seriously maiming them. 'Fuck.'

He hated it.

Swallowing that frustration with the simulation troopers back he approached the maroon soldier as calmly as a heavily armed operative armed to the teeth could. "What are you doing there?"

"Oh, I just heard Sarge's voice come out from here. I was wondering if we could rig it so they'd come to us," he said. "I'm pretty good at this stuff. I built computers."

York only shook his head. "Nerd."

"Hey! My mom says there is nothing to be ashamed of about being an intellectual!" Simmons protested. "One day, I'll be in charge and they will all have to kiss my ass!"

"That day is never happening." York smirked. "Anyway, what have you got?"

"Well I can project a hologram of ourselves, but no communications yet," he admitted. "I'm working on it though."

"Agent York, incoming transmission on the Freelancer band. A bounty has just been put on you by the Director."

"…Simmons, work faster."

A/N: And that's it for now. I admit I get a lot of the, 'You camping whore!' shit whenever I play Halo online. I'm a sniper player and I use active camo…XD it pisses people off to no end. See you!

A Lovestruck A2#5371