A/N: Hello and welcome to chapter 45. With so much focus on the Blues, it's high time for the Reds to have their own bullshit. I'm sure they'll be responsible adults and not do anything stupid while Leona and company are away, right?

Paradox Effect

Summary: Dying sucked. Dying and being killed by the same teammate again? That sucked even more. Dying and being sent back to 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 45*

Grif yawned and nursed a cup of coffee on top of Red Base, remembering a fonder time when he was spending his days on Hawaii and hadn't yet been drafted into the military. At first, when he got the letter saying the UNSC needed his services in the war, he was elated. He thought he was going to get sorted into a Marine squad that would kick some alien ass. The thoughts of an optimistic idiot.

An entire Covenant armada, one he was supposed to help in the fight against, gets obliterated. Earth readies its forces and for some reason ships him out to a desert box canyon in the ass end of nowhere. The officers who dropped him off claimed he was needed to secure the canyon, spewing some lies about how it was vital ground and he needed to concentrate all of his efforts into making sure it didn't fall into enemy hands. Like an eager idiot, he believed them.

Right up until he saw who his commanding officer would be for the duration of his deployment.

Yeah, it was safe to say Sarge was the first clue that his whole deployment was nothing more than the UNSC dumping its non-desirables into a wasteland in the hopes they would either be too dumb to figure it all out or just kill each other off. The second clue was when his team suffered their first ever attack by the enemy.

Who turned out to be idiots dressed in blue armor instead of shades of red.

Well, Tucker was definitely an idiot. Church was actually somewhat smart, but it's not like Church had much competition.

Leona? Leona was worse. She was smart, and a total bitch.

Still, she had a nice ass. That had to count for something. And she didn't punch him in the dick for passing a remark about it.

Those were some serious redeeming qualities. In Grif's mind. Listening to Leona rant and rage about Sarge causing her more headaches than she thought possible was another point in her favor. Anyone who hated Sarge, he could get along with. Hence why he was always at odds with Simmons.

Grif sipped his coffee and sighed. Blue Team wasn't that bad, right? It wouldn't be the first time Command was wrong about something.

What if the Blues didn't suck?

What if they were awesome and a much better team environment?

Well, now that changed everything.

Simmons joined him on the roof with his own coffee, a sniper rifle slung over one shoulder, and he sipped from his cup. "Nice morning."

"The fuck is nice about it? It's not even seven in the morning and the heat is killing me!" Grif complained.

"Doesn't your helmet have cooling fans?"

"Yeah, but I sweat so much they short-circuited."

"Dude you haven't even been outside all that much! How!? These suits are rated for inhospitable environments!"

"Please, they broke during basic training."

Simmons sighed and took another sip of coffee. "Sarge is ranting and raving about pieces for the jeep missing. Did you take any?"

Grif stared, eyes flat. "When the fuck was the last time I did anything?"

"Good point. I just had to ask."

"Just blame it on Donut," Grif suggested helpfully. "It's what I do to get by."

Simmons snorted and slugged him in the shoulder. It didn't really hurt all that much, since they were both wearing power armor designed to survive explosions, but a normal civilian would have been sent flying. "Dick."

"Ass." Grif laughed and slugged him back. As much of a kiss-ass as he could be, Simmons was still the only sane member of his team and the only one Grif could bother to talk to for five minutes without feeling the urge to throw a toaster into the bath. "It's much quieter than it's been lately. Want to head up to the cliff?"

An angry roar came from Red Base's workshop and the air became thick with the sense of murder.

Simmons was all too happy to abandon Donut to their irate leader.

The cliffside was as dreary as ever, which for them was good news. The longer Grif didn't have to work, the happier he was. Besides, he technically never once clocked out, being far too lazy to do so. That meant he was getting paid big-time. Hopefully. He'd be pretty pissed if the UNSC refused to pay him.

"See anything?" he asked.

"Not a thing," Simmons answered. The maroon-armored soldier was flat on his belly peering through the scope of his sniper rifle to spy on Blue Base. Or at least that was what they were going to tell Sarge they were doing if he asked any questions. Simmons was well-versed in the rules of Red Team and wouldn't sell Grif out. The most important rule was follows: If Sarge doesn't need to know, don't bother telling him. And if he asks, just make up some bullshit about doing a scouting run.

"You sure?"

"I'm not fucking blind, asshole. There's no one at Blue Base. It's like it was abandoned."

"Like your dad abandoned you?"

"Hey, fuck you too."

"Give me the fucking sniper rifle so I can see." Grif rolled his eyes and laid down on the dirty cliffside trail. Simmons passed over the rifle and Grif looked through its scope. Like Simmons said, Blue Base was completely deserted. No Tex, no Tucker, and no Leona. They had completely fucked off and left their base.

"Huh. Wonder why they left."

"Who knows? Either way it's valuable information. We have to report this."

"We? Who is this 'we' you speak of?"

"Us two, dickhead."

"Uh, no." Grif scowled. "How about we don't? Because the moment we do, he is going to go get the Warthog and try and claim Blue Base as ours."

"Do you really think so?" Simmons asked.

"It's Sarge. Besides, somehow I don't fancy our chances..." Grif started to sweat nervously upon seeing the barrel of a giant fucking cannon take up the entirety of his scope's vision.

"...that's the tank, isn't it?" Simmons sighed.

"Yep." Grif missed twenty minutes ago when he didn't have his life in peril. He mourned the lack of coffee.

"It's aiming its cannon at us, too."

"Yeeep." Grif put emphasis by popping the 'p'. "So, what was that about Blue Base being completely empty?"

Simmons whimpered as the tank crept closer.

A/N: Poor Simmons. Poor Grif. Just want to get away from your asshole leader and a fuckin tank comes by to make your life unpleasant.

-Kagerou#9718