Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Ep. 1 - We're Back: Part 1"

It was a rainy, gloomy night at the Correctional Service of Canada.

Thunder, lightning, and fog hit the air. The energy outside created such a boring atmosphere for the prisoners. As they ate dinner quietly in the dimly lit prison cafeteria, the air thick with the scent of overcooked food, the dull hums of conversations and cluttering trays filling the space while the guards stood around designated points in the cafeteria in case any dangers happen. Jace and Reggie were talking amongst themselves. These were two convicted felons who have been in here so long their beards have turned gray. They sit across from each other at the worn-out metal table, speaking in hushed voices while picking at their food.

"You hear anything new about the shipment?" Jace said, looking around as he took a sip from his cup of water.

"Yeah. Word is, it's coming in through the laundry drop this time. Thursday night." Reggie responded, also keeping eye out for any people trying to invade their plans.

Jace nods, looking down to his food after getting a suspicious look from a nearby guard. "That lines up with what I heard. But Mason's crew might try to intercept it."
Reggie leans in, slightly. "Figures. They've been getting bolder ever since Deeks got thrown in the hole. We're gonna have to move fast."

Sitting next to the chattering two criminals was none other than the infamous and formerly juvenile delinquent, Duncan. Duncan was still locked up for destroying Chris's private cottage during Total Drama All-Stars, and he began to ponder if he'd ever get out. He'd already been here for a year anyway. During his imprisonment here, Season 6 had taken place at Total Drama. He wasn't used to being in regular prison, since he was always sent to juvie. Prison, was an entirely different ballpark. Worse food, bigger inmates, more fights..

Duncan, now being 19 years old, sits there quietly, thinking to himself where he went wrong in Season 5.. where his downfall started. For the past year, being in prison has given him a lot of time to think.. and the only thing he's been able to think about is when he got so weak.. Seasons 1, 2 and a bit of season 3, people feared him.. people respected him.. he doesn't know where it went wrong. For a while, he's been thinking that dating Courtney was the mistake.. after all, it's almost like she played him.. it was like she pick and chose when to act like an actual girlfriend, especially in Season 2 when she returned — which she wasn't even supposed to. The fact that for majority of the game, she spent that time insulting him for 'hooking up with Gwen' even though that wasn't what he did.. the verbal abuse, the physical abuse.. and he stuck with her? Or.. what if.. what if dating Gwen caused his downfall? There was so much in his mind, what was going on..

Duncan found himself getting angrier and angrier, hoping that there'd be another chance, another season, to redeem himself and not let himself get suckered by a chick. He needed to get his status back — and show everybody on that game that he was still the same, intimidating delinquent that he's always been.. he sits there, as the events of his entire relationship with Courtney replay in his mind.. from Season 1 to Season 3.. the way her and Gwen ridiculed and made fun of him in Season 5.. oh what he wouldn't give for another chance right now..

"'Ey softie, wipe that anger off ya face before I give ya sum'n to really be mad about!" A prisoner yelled, making his group of men laugh loudly.

Oh he needed to get out of here badly.

Duncan growled and stood up and began making his way to his cell. He had way too much on his head right now.

"Tarun. You got a visitor." An officer said, standing at the main doors.

"Oh great. Just what I need right now." Duncan said, angrily as he walked to the doors.

As the officer escorted him to the booth, he sat down expecting it to be his mom or dad, or one of the guys from the show like DJ or Geoff, but was shocked to find out.. that it was none other than..

"McLean.." Duncan said to himself, before picking up the phone.

"Look, Chris, if you came here to yell at me about the cottage, I don't regret anything, and besides I-"

"Dude. I don't care about the cottage anymore. That's not what I'm here for." Chris said over the phone.

"…it's not?" Duncan said, suddenly feeling confused. He had known Chris for 5 seasons now.. visiting him just to yell at him for destroying his cottage is perfectly in character for something Chris would do.

"No. On the contrary, I'm actually here for ANOTHER reason." Chris said, before a devilish grin appeared on his face.

Immediately, Duncan picked up on it. There's no way.. he doesn't mean..?
"No… you mean.."

"That's right. We're coming back Duncan.. and as per your contract, you're comin' with dude." Chris said casually.

"Yeah, right, fat chance. And I'm pretty sure bailing me out of jail just so I can do another season of your crappy show isn't on that contract." Duncan responded coldly. Although he did want another chance at showing those losers that he's still Duncan, it was ANOTHER season of Total Drama.. he's done 4 seasons of that stupid show already..he had also won a season and was in a episode of Season 4 as well.. does he really need to do another one?

"You'd be surprised at what's on your contract. Duncan, trust me when I say.. you're not gonna want to miss this season. It's gonna be the biggest one yet." Chris said with a grin on his face.. and he did look like he was telling the truth this time- OH what are you thinking Duncan, this is Chris we're talking about.. "And if we're being honest.. if I don't bail you out, you're gonna stay here for a long, long time. That cottage was private property you know."

Duncan stared at Chris like he wanted to punch him through the thick screen of glass. "So I've been told. Anyway, how did it feel losing your precious little wasteland of a camp at the end of Season 5?" Duncan asked Chris, referring to Camp Wawanakwa sinking due to the hydraulic drill Chef used.

"Not good, Duncan. Not good at all. We had so many good memories on that darn island. Chef with his stupid fracking machine.." Chris said, looking down. Even though Duncan might not agree, Chris had amazing memories on that island — torturing you guys.. doing that on a new island won't be the same..

Duncan scoffs before breaking out into a laughing fit. "Oh man, that's rich! Good memories.. yeah right.." He said while still laughing, wiping tears from his face from laughing so hard.

Chris stares at Duncan with a deadpan expression.

"Anyway… how's the long hair treatin ya? You plan to cut it before we head to camp or..?" Chris said, chuckling. Duncan's hair had grown quite a lot since their last interaction. He no longer had a mohawk, the green hair was also gone. He now has a middle part hairstyle with his hair just slightly passing his shoulders — to be truthful he looks like a cliche British singer. "Seriously, what's with the long hair dude? It doesn't suit you."

"I never even said I wanted to go back to your stupid game!" Duncan exclaimed, as he stands up. "And for the record, I just got too lazy and never cut my hair so.. it just kept growing."

"Well, you should probably get that cut like, yesterday- if you come on the show with that hairstyle you're gonna be the laughing stock of the season. You're gonna be the new Ezekiel!" Chris says, with that same hysterical and maniacal laugh he's always had.. "Which brings me to my next question. Are you in, or not?" Chris asked, looking at Duncan with a deadpan expression. "Another shot to prove your worth Duncan my man. This time, we're playing for $2,000,000.. it'll be on a bigger island with better amenities for winning teams.. Gwen and Courtney will be there.." Chris said, his 'iconic' smile back on his face.. until it disappears again and that deadpan expression comes back.

"If it wasn't for this contract, I wouldn't be inviting you back for another season after you blowing up my cottage and all. Do you know how many PORTRAITS I lost? My cashmere superb bedsheets.. gone.. my sleep number bed.. gone.. my HOT TUB.. GONE.." Chris says, suddenly remembering all of the luxurious amenities he had in his cottage.

However, Duncan's focus was taken off of Chris long before he started his little rant about how much he misses his cottage. He lost Duncan at the mention of Gwen and Courtney.. hearing their names just fueled Duncan's anger even more.. now he couldn't say no. They treated him horribly in All-Stars, especially when they became friends again. Even if he basically did cheat on her by kissing Gwen, he didn't feel like the way they treated him was fair. If he was to return to this season.. he was not gonna play games. He promised himself that he's gonna focus strictly on winning and winning only, not letting Gwen, Courtney or anyone else stand in his way. This was gonna be HIS season.

After a long silence..

"I'm in."

"Good choice.." Chris says, with his 'iconic' shiny smile.

A few days later..

Duncan, lying on the bed, looks up at the ceiling, wondering if he made a good decision coming back to Total Drama. Being on that show was like.. it was like defamation in a sense. The show made him out to be a weak little cheater in the end.. even though redemption is possible, he doesn't know if going back is a good idea. Nothing he can do about it now though..

"Tarun." The guard calls out, unlocking his cell.

Duncan stands up from his bed, walking closer to the door.

"Yes 'sir'?" He said, looking down at the short and very unintimidating guard.. he always wonders how they let someone like this guy work in a prison?

"Don't look at me like that." The guard says, 'menacingly'.

"Oh, oh my mistake dude." Duncan replied while stifling a laugh.

"Anyways, you're free to go. You've been bailed out."

"Cool." Duncan says, walking out of the cell.

"Finally.." The guard adds under his breath, seeming extremely relieved that Duncan is gone.

"What was that?" Duncan says, cornering the small guard at the wall.

"Nothing, nothing, I'm sorry!" The guard immediately retaliated. Wow this guy was so pathetic. "Your stuff is waiting for you at the exit."

"Yeah, whatever." Duncan says, walking to the exit as prompted.

The guard stays in his position, feeling embarrassed for letting a prisoner intimidate him.

As Duncan walks out of the prison, finally in his normal clothing — his black t-shirt with the skull on it, his shorts and red shoes.. he walks with a lot on his mind. So he's going back to Total Drama, that's nerve wracking enough.. then he's gotta see his 2 exes that were both the reason for his downfall.. perhaps he's overthinking this? Maybe nothing serious will happen.. right? After all they seemed to ignore his existence after some time in All-Stars.. maybe this season will be all smooth sailing yeah?

"Smooth sailing, yeah right." He says to himself. "I tell myself all the things I want to hear and I don't think about the reality.. this is Total Drama we're talking about." He continued, before letting out a scoff. "Generational Warfare.. what kind of title is that-" He says, more or so mentally preparing himself to get back out there.. would going on this show be a good idea or a bad idea?

1 week later…

Today was the day. It was time to get back out there.. as Chris stood at the end of the dock, cameras ready.. it was almost time for another season of Total Drama.

3…

Chris made sure his hair was done right, not a strand of hair out of place.
2…

1..

and.. ACTION!

"Welcome back to Total Drama! This season, is gonna be our BIGGEST, CRAZIEST, FUNNIEST, AND MOST ENJOYABLE season yet! This year, 32 contestants — that's right, 32 contestants, from the first 3 generations are coming back to battle it out, for an even BIGGER cash prize! $2,000,000!" Chris says, holding a noticeably bigger briefcase.

"With 16 of our infamous 1st generation cast members, 8 of our 2nd generation cast members, and another 8 of our 3rd generation cast members, this is truly gonna be a generational warfare!" Chris says, with the camera now showcasing the new island.

"With Camp Wawanakwa sadly being gone.." Chris says as a tear rolls down his cheek. "I'll always remember that suckish campground.. tortured so many kids there.." He says before realizing he's getting sidetracked. "Anyways, this season, we have an entirely different island with a SLIGHTLY bigger campground, new amenities for winners, and slightly better food for losers since the contestants complained that they wouldn't return if Chef Hatchet didn't learn how to cook better food. For starters.."

"We have the NEW and improved McLean Spa Hotel Part 2, since the old one well.. y'know. Complete with butler, hot tub, 24 hour masseuse, and gourmet dishes! Trust me, when the cast sees this, they're gonna work their BUTTS off to win the challenges. And as always, the losers sleep in smelly old cabins. These cabins however, are slightly renovated, which was the result of yet again, another complaint." Chris says, walking to the final amenity.

"Winners also get, this huge pool, which they are free to use any time during the day. It can also be turned into a jacuzzi." Chris says, activating the feature that turns the bubbles on. "Would you look at that.. we've got a little visitor already!" He says, as the camera moves down to a big cockroach that's trying to swim in the pool. Chris lets out a chuckle before continuing.

Now.. it's time for the real fun. It's time to meet.. the victims.." Chris says with a mischievous grin, before quickly shaking it off. "I mean, our campers!"

The camera turns to the sky, with a big military jet.

"From the 1st generation cast, the contestants you all know and love.."

Chris says before the door flies open.

"First, The Type-A, Cranky, and Controlling Know It All C.I.T., Courtney!"

The camera goes back to the jet, where Courtney prepares to jump out of the jet.

"This parachute better work.." The C.I.T. says, pulling the string, only to find out it doesn't work. How typical. Until Chef pushes her off.

"UGH! I hate this knockoff show!"

She says before screaming as she falls in the air.

"Followed by her friend-turned-enemy-turned-friend, turned-enemy, turned-friend.. Gwen!"

As Gwen falls from the jet..

"That label was so unnecessary McLean!"

Chris chuckles. "But it's true, no? Anyways, our next VICTIMS are, Bridgette and Geoff, Heather and Trent, and Katie and Sadie!"

The 6 people he called all fall from the plane, letting out bloodcurdling screams, ESPECIALLY Sadie and Katie.

"Why do I keep coming back to this show?" Heather exclaims.

"Cause you guys are suckers for some cash, that's why." He laughs. "Maybe bringing THEM back was a mistake.." Chris said under his breath, THEM referring to Katie and Sadie. "Also coming back, are Alejandro, Lindsay, Sierra, Noah, Owen, Duncan, Leshawna and DJ!"

"Bring it on fools!" Leshawna screams while falling.

Lindsay, somehow.. just woke up from a nap WHILE in the air and realized she was falling before loudly screaming.

Duncan falls, emotionless and silently, while the rest let out typical screams.

Owen, obviously falls while screaming.

"But wait, that's not all! Our 2nd gen cast! Zoey, Mike, Lightning, Anne Maria, Dakota, Scott, Brick, and Dawn!"

"You're DEAD when I get down there McLean! Do you know what this amount of air is doing to my HAIR?" Anne Maria exclaims while trying to use her hair spray, but it being ineffective due to falling at crazy speeds. "This type of hair doesn't come naturally!"

"I'll be sure to make a mental note of that!" Chris yells back. "Now.. for the third gen cast.. Jasmine, Shawn, Dave, Ella, Sky, Scarlett, Max, and finally.. JUST Sammy. Amy was a pain in the butt."

"Glad we agree on SOMETHING!" Sammy exclaims.

Once the contestants are all in the water, Chris walks up to the 32 now soaking wet campers.

"Welcome back to Total Drama campers. As you can tell by the very lot of you, this season is gonna be huge! Go ahead and dry off, get yourself comfortable, and we'll meet at the common area in exactly 1 hour. Let's go!" Chris says. The camera pans to the contestants who all look extremely angry at being wet, and being back here in general.

Confessional: Heather

"Okay, what is with the insane amount of people this season? I saw like, 30 people.. and some newbies from last season.. time to remind them that I am the queen bee of this game." Heather says with a victorious smile.

Confessional: Duncan

"This season I'm coming back a brand new me. I don't want ANYTHING from Seasons 1-5 tying me down. This is a fresh new start." Duncan says before breaking into laughter. "As if I'd change my ways just to win a stupid game like this, this junk is rigged anyway! But seriously though I am gonna try to win this. And I promise myself not to let Courtney or Gwen distract me."

Confessional: Courtney

"Last time I checked, Duncan was in JAIL. Why is he in this season?" Courtney asks in a confused and a bit of an angry manner.

Confessional: Sammy

"This season is gonna be so amazing! Half of the players are from the earlier seasons, this is so awesome! And Amy's not here to make me lose! Oh man, this season's gonna be mine- I can already feel it!" Sammy says excitedly.

After all contestants dry themselves off and meet in the common area, Chris walks in and stands in the front.

"Welcome back team! This season's gonna be a big one." Chris says.

"Why do you keep saying that? We get it, there's a lot of us." Scott replies.

"Because Scott, it's the truth. This season, there are 32 of you guys. 16 of you from the first 3 seasons, 8 of you from Season 4, and another 8 of you from Season 6. It's 3 generations of Total Drama contestants fighting for the $2,000,000 cash prize, hence the name of the season. Total Drama: Generational Warfare!" Chris says. "Man this is gonna be fun."

"Hm. It kinda does sound cool." Gwen says. She can't argue with that — the way he made it sound seems pretty cool.

Confessional: Gwen

"Did I just COMPLIMENT Chris? What was I THINKING?" Gwen exclaims.

"Now, it's time to assign teams before we start our first challenge! Let's wrap this up shall we?"

"Duncan, Heather, Gwen, Courtney, Owen, Noah, Bridgette, DJ, Zoey, Lightning, Trent, Anne Maria, Leshawna, Jasmine, Dakota and Max. The 16 of you are officially known as 'The Underdogs'." Chris says.

"The Underdogs? That's the best you could come up with?" Anne Maria says.

"SSSSHUSH!" Chris says.

"Lindsay, Sierra, Geoff, Alejandro, Mike, Katie, Sadie, Brick, Scarlett, Sky, Dawn, Dave, Scott, Ella, Shawn, and Sammy. You guys are 'The Dominators'."

Confessional: Alejandro
The Dominators

"The Dominators. He's done 7 seasons of this estúpido amañado TV show, and the best name for our team that he could come up with, was The Dominators. I do not even know why I find myself so disappointed, I should have expected this." Alejandro says.

"Cool! Such a groovy color too!" Lindsay says, referring to the electric blue color of their team's logo."

"Okay teams! Our first challenge is how we started a lot of Total Drama seasons. We're bungee jumping off of a cliff to capture flags!" Chris says. Immediately, the cast members groan.

Confessional: Noah
The Underdogs

"Does he not know how to make any other challenges? I mean, we started off like 3 seasons with a cliff diving challenge. Come on now, the show isn't that low budget if the prize is $2,000,000." Noah says.

Confessional: Max
The Underdogs

"I do not 'bungee jump'. And I refuse to do such tomfoolery. I didn't come back to mess around. I came for the money, so I can use it to build my evil lair!" Max says before he lets out an evil and maniacal laugh. He hasn't changed a bit..

"Don't worry, it's not dangerous. Well, not THAT dangerous. But the cliff we'll be jumping off of is 1000x higher than Camp Wawanakwa's cliff, that's for sure." Chris says.

"How high is it?" Zoey asks reluctantly, seeming to immediately regret asking that question.

The camera faces the TALL 19,672ft cliff.. the cast stands at the top, majority of them looking scared.

"Are you maggots ready?!" Chris asks excitedly. You could tell he's been waiting for this season.

"NO!" Everyone says in unison.

"Great! Now hook up your bungee cords and get to jumping!" Chris says, leaving the contestants on the mountain. "Oh yeah, we're BACK and better than ever.."

Chapter Text

Ep. 2- "We're Back: Part 2":
"Last time on Total Drama: Generational Warfare—we kicked things off with a bang! 32 contestants from three generations, all gunning for the biggest cash prize we've ever offered—$2 MILLION! We brought back an equal amount of contestants from the first six seasons, and let's just say—some people really didn't want to come back. Our very own bad boy, Duncan, was released from prison—yes, you heard that right—and it didn't take long for him to start questioning his decision. I mean, who wouldn't? Going back to Total Drama is like signing up for a lifetime of pain, torture, and awkward reunions. Speaking of awkward, there was Courtney and Gwen, two exes who have enough history with Duncan to write a soap opera. Spoiler alert: It's gonna get messy. But hey, it's Total Drama—and nothing's ever simple. So, after the worst skydiving experience of their lives, the contestants crashed into the water, soaked and probably regretting their life choices. We split them into two teams—the Underdogs and the Dominators—but not everyone was thrilled with their new teams or those names. Welcome to the game, everyone. Finally, we kicked things off with our terrifying first challenge—a bungee jump off a ridiculously high cliff! Will they rise to the occasion, or will they fall… literally? We'll see what happens next time on Total, Drama..Generational Warfare!"

(Cue the TDGW Intro)

"How high is it?" Zoey asks reluctantly, seeming to immediately regret asking that question.

The camera pans up to reveal a monstrous cliff towering 19,672 feet high, jagged edges cutting through clouds like knives. The cast stands huddled at the top, eyes wide in silent terror.

"Are you maggots ready?!" Chris asks excitedly. You could tell he's been waiting for this season.

"NO!" Everyone says in unison.

"Great! Now hook up your bungee cords and grab as many flags as you can on the way down! Most flags wins!" Chris says, leaving the contestants on the mountain. "Oh yeah, we're BACK and better than ever.."

"Don't worry guys! Maybe a song will help us calm down!" Ella says before preparing to sing, until Heather slaps her mouth.

"Keep that Cinder-ELLA mouth of yours shut noobie. We don't want to hear it." Heather exclaims.

Confessional: Ella
The Dominators

"During Pahkitew Island, I prayed that if there were any future seasons I wouldn't be on one with Heather! Until this season of course. I mean, how can someone so pretty be so mean?" Ella says, looking sad.

Confessional: Heather
The Underdogs

"Listen.. I wanna try to be a LITTLE nicer this season, but I do not like any of these noobies we're forced to compete with at all. They're just so.. weird!" Heather exclaims with her usual stuck up expression, as if she's better than everyone.

"Okay, so how are we gonna do this?" DJ asks, making sure his bungee cord is securely attached.

"Well, why don't YOU jump first? You're the biggest one here, you imbecile. That way you can cushion our falls." Max says, trying to attach his own bungee cord but failing miserably.

"Do you need some help with that?" Duncan asks, chuckling as he watches Max fail to attach it to his body.

"I don't need help, you gothic neanderthal! Just make DJ jump first." Max exclaims angrily.

"Why don't YOU jump first?" Jasmine jumps in the conversation, taking control of Max and attaching his bungee cord for him. Max just hangs from Jasmine's extremely tall figure, squirming like a little bug. "There. Was it that hard to ask for help?"

"Evil does not ask for help, evil requires no help, evil is-" Max begins a rant before realizing the entire team walked away. "Huh? Where'd they go? Ugh! Doesn't ANYONE take me seriously around here?"

"We would if you weren't trying to act like a 2000's cartoon villain." Dave says, walking past Max with 2 more flags.

While The Underdogs struggle to find someone to jump first, The Dominators have already gotten 6 jumpers and have captured 11 flags already.

"Okay, you know what, I'll jump first!" Duncan exclaims, jumping from the almost 20,000ft cliff…

He manages to grab 3 flags from the arches of the cliff, before coming back up. "Huh, not so bad after all."

Gwen watches as Duncan socializes with the other team members, obviously thinking about something.

Confessional: Gwen
The Underdogs

"You know.. whenever Duncan wasn't so obsessed with Courtney.. he was really fun to hang out with. Sometimes I kinda miss our bond. It might have destroyed my relationship with Courtney, but it was already ruined after placing me SECOND LAST on that stupid chart she made in All-Stars. The fact that she LIED about wanting to be friends and going to the end with me just so she could pick me off at the end of the game..." She says before pondering. "Would it be fake to talk to Duncan again after the way I treated him..y'know, cause of Courtney and all?"

Alejandro scores 2 more flags for The Dominators.

"Too easy." He says, placing his flags in the basket.

"The Dominators are in the lead with a whopping 13 flags, to The Underdogs' now 7 flags. Man this is a tight game!" Chris says over the megaphone, as he and Chef hovers over the team in his helicopter.

"Who's jumping next?" Duncan asks the team. In the past few minutes, The Underdogs have thankfully gotten more jumpers. However, Max hasn't jumped yet..

"Max needs to jump, almost everyone here has jumped except for him!" Leshawna says, making everyone look at him expectedly.

Max gulps, his eyes darting around nervously. "W-we-wel—well, you see, guys, I… I simply cannot partake in such a menial task!" He straightens his back, adjusting his cape dramatically. "A villain of my caliber has far more diabolical matters to attend to than plummeting from great heights like some… common daredevil!"

Bridgette crosses her arms. "Uh-huh. So what I'm hearing is… you're scared. Come on, even Owen jumped before you and he's like- 300lbs! No offense Owen."

"I'm only 296!" Owen says with a hurt expression.

"Yeah, like that makes a difference." Noah adds with his usual sarcastic expression.

Max scoffs, flipping his hand. "Pfft! Fear? Ha! A truly sinister mind such as mine does not fear—I merely calculate the most strategic course of action! And that course of action is not—I repeat, not—hurling myself into the abyss!"

Duncan smirks. "Sounds like you're chicken." 

Gwen lets out a small laugh, just loud enough for Duncan to notice—though he doesn’t look back.

Max gasps, placing a hand over his heart. "How dare you! Chickens are mindless creatures! I am an evil genius! I simply refuse to waste my vast intelligence on something as barbaric as—AHHH!"

Before he can finish, Owen, with an exasperated sigh, shoves him off the ledge. Max flails midair, screaming, "YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE LAST OF MEEEEEE—!"

Confessional: Owen
The Underdogs

"Was pushing Max off the cliff mean? Sorry.. I just don't want the team to lose the first challenge of the game!" Owen exclaims. "When's lunch? I'm starving.."

Chris watches from the helicopter, chuckling. "Oof, tough break for Max, but hey—at least he's finally airborne!"

Back at the Cliff…

"Alright, who's next?" Jasmine asks, eyeing the remaining Underdogs.

"I'll go," Trent shrugs, tightening his harness. "Can't be that bad, right?"

"You better not sha-jinx it, music boy!" Lightning warns.

Trent leaps, smoothly grabbing two flags on his way down. As he bounces back up, he flashes a thumbs-up. "See? No big deal!"

Lightning grins. "Alright, Sha-BAM! Watch how a real athlete does it!" He dives with a dramatic flip, snatching three flags midair before slamming into the side of the cliff.

"Ow—uhh, I meant to do that."

Confessional: Lightning
The Underdogs

"Okay, so maybe that landing wasn't Sha-mazing, but hey, I got us three flags! Who else on this team can say they got three?"

Back on the cliff…

Dakota stands at the edge, adjusting her hair. "Ugh, I don't wanna mess up my look, but like, I guess I have to."

"Yeah, yeah, we all gotta suffer," Leshawna says, nudging her forward. "Now jump, princess."

Dakota takes a deep breath and leaps, letting out a high-pitched scream as she grabs a single flag. She bounces back up, hair frazzled. "Okay—never doing that again."

"One flag, are you serious? What are we supposed to do with one flag?" Duncan exclaims.

"Stop yelling at me!" Dakota shouts in a bratty manner. "At least I jumped?" Dakota responds.

Anne Maria steps forward, dramatically flipping her hair. "If she can do it, I definitely can."

As she jumps, she manages to grab two flags, but her hairspray can slips out of her pocket midair. "NOOO! NOT MY SPRAY!"

The can falls into the canyon, disappearing into the fog.

"RIP to that can, but not my problem," Noah mutters.

"Wait a second.. Max is the only one on the team who HASN'T grabbed a flag." Duncan says, realizing that all 16 players on the team have jumped and have gotten at least 1 flag, except for Max, who jumped but hasn't grabbed any flags..

Meanwhile, on The Dominators' side…

Shawn cracks his knuckles. "I'm used to jumping off rooftops to escape zombies, so this is nothing!"

"Wow.. you're so brave!" Lindsay says in admiration. Of course she believes that.

Shawn jumps, effortlessly grabbing three flags before landing back on the platform. "See? No sweat!"

Scarlett adjusts her glasses. "This task is primitive, but I suppose I'll do my part." She jumps stiffly, managing to snatch a flag but screaming the entire way down.

Scott watches her bounce back up. "Oh great, we've got a FEMALE Cameron now."

Mike takes a deep breath, his eyes flickering. "Alright, I got this."

He jumps, but midair, he suddenly transforms into Mal. "This game is gonna be mine…" He says, whistling his usual "In the Hall of The Mountain King" tune. He then grabs a whopping 8 FLAGS.. which is weird because they weren't anywhere to be found, where did he get those flags from?!

Everyone on The Dominators lets out a gasp.

Confessional: Scott
The Dominators

"I thought Mike got over that stupid multiple personalities thing in Season 5.. what happened?" Scott asks with a bewildered expression.

Confessional: Mike
The Dominators

"I don't know HOW it happened or WHEN it happened, but.. is Mal STILL ALIVE?" Mike says, freaking out inside the outhouse.

Mike blinks, shaking his head as he turns back to normal. "Huh? Wait, what happened?"

Geoff pats his shoulder. "Dude, you crushed it!"

"I did? Awesome!" Mike says before turning to the rest of the team, staring at him in fear.

"Why does everyone look so scared?" Mike says — looking rather confused.

Sky stretches. "Alright, time for some athlete excellence!"

She jumps, easily nabbing two flags. "This is nothing compared to training for the Olympics!"

Dave sighs. "Guess I'm up…" He hesitates, then jumps—but his scream is so loud it echoes through the canyon. He did not grab any flags unfortunately.

Sammy pats his back when he returns. "That was… kinda sad buddy." She says with a smirk that she's trying desperately to hide.

"Shut up."

Confessional: Dave
The Dominators

"I hate this game already."

Back to the challenge…Chris grins.

"Alright, folks! That's time! Final count—The Dominators have 26 flags, while The Underdogs have… 15. Sheesh, they really cooked you guys. The Dominators win!"

The Underdogs groan.

Chris chuckles. "Underdogs, you're heading to elimination tonight!"

The Underdogs exchange nervous glances.

"Better start plotting," Chris teases. "I'll see you at the campfire!"

Confessional: Courtney
The Underdogs

"I can't believe we lost to such a DISHONORABLE amount of flags.. next challenge we HAVE to lock in." Courtney says with a determined expression.

Confessional: Duncan
The Underdogs

"Who am I voting for? Who do you think, that wannabe villain Max.. he refused to jump until we had to push him off, and he didn't even get us a flag! Besides, kid creeps me out anyways. With his weird gray little tracksuit.. looks like he came from some mental hospital."

Back at the Cliff…

As the contestants prepare to head back to camp, Lightning throws his arms up. "Man, I still can't believe we lost! That ain't Sha-mazing!"

"Yeah, well, maybe if someone didn't slam into the cliff like a Looney Tunes character, we would've had a better shot," Noah mutters.

Lightning scoffs. "Yo, I got us three flags! What did you do?"

Noah shrugs. "Provided much-needed commentary."

Heather sighs, rubbing her temples. "Can we please focus on who we're sending home instead of fighting over who sucked less?"

Zoey crosses her arms. "I mean, the answer's kinda obvious, right?"

Everyone looks toward Max, who stands stiffly, his arms crossed. "Hah! You fools! You think you can rid yourselves of me so easily? I will be victorious! I will—"

Jasmine rolls her eyes. "Shut up."

Max blinks. "Hmph."

Confessional: Bridgette
The Underdogs

"Ugh, I hate voting people out, but Max literally refused to jump! And when he did, it was because Owen pushed him! Not to mention, he didn't even get us one flag. Sorry, dude, but you're kinda useless in a game like this."

Confessional: Max
The Underdogs

"Those fools are underestimating my greatness! If they had any intelligence at all, they'd eliminate someone truly useless! Like DJ, who's clearly too soft-hearted for this game! Or Dakota, whose vanity will only slow us down! Not me! I am essential!"

He pauses. "…Right?"

Back at Camp – The Underdogs' Cabin

The team sits around, discussing the vote.

"Okay, so we all know who's going," Leshawna says, filing her nails.

"Obviously," Courtney replies.

"Well, I don't," Owen says, stuffing his face with chips. "Who are we talking about?"

Everyone stares at him.

"Ohhh, right. Max. Got it." He swallows. "Wait, do I have to vote for him? I feel bad… I mean, yeah, he's kinda useless, but he tries—"

Heather cuts him off. "No, he doesn't."

"…Good point."

Anne Maria fluffs her hair. "I'd love to see that little weirdo go. He called my hairspray 'primitive nonsense!' Ugh! He so does not deserve to breathe the same air as me."

DJ frowns. "I mean, I feel kinda bad, too. He's not mean or anything, just… weird."

"It's true. He tries to act mean and tough but it's so pathetic." Duncan smirks.

Jasmine shrugs. "Look, I'm not one to kick someone while they're down, but if we don't vote him out, we're just hurting ourselves."

Zoey nods. "Exactly."

Confessional: Max
The Underdogs

"They will regret this…"

Confessional: Gwen
The Underdogs

"I almost feel bad for Max… but, yeah, no. He's gotta go."

At The Campfire Ceremony…

The Underdogs stand around as Chris grins. "Alright, Underdogs, you know the drill! If I call your name, you're safe. If I don't, well… tough break!"

Chef holds up a tray of marshmallows.

Chris picks up the first marshmallow. "First up, Duncan."

Duncan catches the marshmallow with a smirk.

"Leshawna, Gwen, DJ, Trent, Zoey, Owen, Heather, Jasmine, Dakota, Anne Maria, Lightning…"

More contestants grab their marshmallows. Max fidgets, gripping his cape.

"Bridgette, Courtney, and…" Chris pauses for dramatic effect. "The last marshmallow of the night, goes to…."

The camera switches from Noah to Max multiple times, with Noah having a smug look on his face, as if he knows there's no chance he's going home.

"Noah." Chris says, delivering the final marshmallow.

Noah catches his marshmallow effortlessly.

Chris smirks. "Max… you are outta here, buddy!"

Max gasps. "NOOOO! YOU FOOLS! YOU CANNOT EXILE EVIL! I WILL RETURN, AS VILLAINS ALWAYS DO, AND YOU WILL ALL PAY—"

Chef literally picks him up and carries him away.

Chris waves. "And that's one villain down! Who's next? Find out next time… on Total Drama: Generational Warfare!"

Chapter Text

Episode 3: "Seek or Scream!"

"Last time on Total Drama: Generational Warfare! Our fresh batch of returning veterans and noobie newcomers took their first dive into the competition—literally! And by 'dive,' I mean plummeting 19,672 feet from a cliff with only a flimsy bungee cord to keep 'em from going splat!" Chris says, spreading his arms wide, gesturing toward the cliff's edge before casually peering over it.

A montage of contestants screaming as they jump, with a slow-motion clip of Max flailing midair and Owen casually pushing him off.

"The Dominators proved their name by DOMINATING the challenge, while The Underdogs… well, let's just say they lived up to their name, scoring a not-so-impressive 15 flags." Chris adds, mockingly giving a slow, sarcastic golf clap, then shrugs.

Cut to the Underdogs groaning as Chris announces their loss, followed by Max getting death glares from his teammates.

"And speaking of underdogs… one competitor really didn't pull his weight. Or, y'know, jump at all—until Owen gave him some… gentle encouragement." Chris says, air-quoting the word 'gentle' before nudging an imaginary contestant off the cliff with his foot.

Cut to Max being pushed off the cliff: "YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE LAST OF MEEEE—!"

"But that wasn't even the biggest shocker! Oh no—our resident 'nice guy' Mike had a little… let's call it an identity crisis mid-challenge." Chris says, as he raises an eyebrow and spins his finger in a 'crazy' motion near his temple. "Seriously- I thought he got that multiple personality thing taken care of in Season 5. How is Mal still alive?"

Clip of Mal smirking as he suddenly grabs eight flags from out of nowhere, followed by The Dominators looking horrified, then to a confessional of Mike panicking: "Is Mal STILL ALIVE?!"

"That's right, folks—Mal is BACK! Maybe. Sort of. Either way, I'm loving it!" He claps his hands together in excitement, then winks at the camera. But in the end, it was evil and idiocy that lost out, and Max was voted out faster than you can say 'cartoon villain cliché!'"

Clip of Chef carrying a screaming Max away, followed by The Underdogs sighing in relief.

"Now, with the first elimination in the books and a potential mal-function on the horizon, what chaos awaits our contestants next? Find out right now on…"

The camera zooms out as lightning strikes dramatically behind Chris. He turns to admire it before striking a heroic pose.

"Total! Drama! Generational Warfare!"

(Cue the TDGW Intro)

The Underdogs sit around the long wooden tables, trays of breakfast in front of them. The atmosphere is tense. Some players poke at their food, others grumble to themselves. Owen, however, is happily scarfing down his meal like nothing happened.

"This is so humiliating. Losing the very first challenge? On this season?" Courtney says, being the first one to speak.

"And to them of all people.." Heather says, rolling her eyes.

"Man, we gotta get it together. First challenge and we're already looking like amateurs," DJ said, rubbing the back of his neck with a heavy sigh. His shoulders sagged, clearly frustrated by their loss.

"I mean, our team name SUCKS. We're 'The Underdogs', that name alone sounds.. belittling." Duncan says, carving a skull into the table with his knife.

"I am NOT an UNDERDOG," Courtney snapped, crossing her arms tightly. "I have led teams, I have won challenges, and I refuse to be labeled as some kind of pity case! Calling us 'The Underdogs' makes it sound like we're expected to lose, and I don't do losing."

Duncan scoffs and excludes himself from the conversation. This is what he's trying to avoid. This leads to a glare from Courtney.

Confessional: Courtney
The Underdogs

"Okay, look… I get that Duncan is upset at me for how I treated him in Season 5… and… in general. BUT that doesn't mean he gets to sit there acting all above it while the rest of us are trying to figure out how to win! Like, sorry if I hurt your feelings, but maybe now's not the time to sulk about ancient history!"

She huffs, throwing up her hands. "And another thing—if he's so over everything, then why does he keep acting like he's too cool to even talk to me? Ugh! If he wants to be all distant and broody, fine! But when we start winning? He better not pretend like he wasn't part of the team effort."

She crosses her arms, scowling. "…And I totally wasn't glaring at him. That was just… my natural focus face."

She shot a glare around the table, as if daring anyone to disagree. "If we wanna win, we need to stop acting like we're the weaker team and start proving we're not. Got it? She says, looking at Duncan and expecting him to reply, but..Duncan just scoffed and leaned back in his seat, twirling his knife between his fingers. He had zero interest in getting involved in this conversation.

Courtney's eyes narrowed. "Seriously?" she snapped. "You're just gonna sit there and act like this doesn't concern you?"

Duncan exhaled sharply and rolled his eyes. "Look, I'm not doing this, alright? I'm not getting dragged into another one of your 'we have to be the best' speeches. You wanna play team captain? Be my guest. Just leave me out of it. It's getting old."

Courtney clenched her jaw, her fingers curling into fists. She hated when he brushed her off like this—like she was some control freak on a power trip instead of someone just trying to help.

Confessional: Courtney
The Underdogs

"Then again.. maybe I was a little harsh back then. I mean, I did hold onto that breakup for way too long, and I did make his life miserable over it. And now, seeing him actually trying to move on, maybe I—"

She stopped mid-sentence, her expression hardening.

"Wait, no! Why am I feeling bad? He cheated on me in World Tour! And with GWEN of all people! I was humiliated on national television!" She threw her hands up, eyes burning with renewed irritation. "Why should I be the one apologizing? He's the one who broke my trust! He's the one who—"

Courtney hesitated, her shoulders slowly sinking.

"…But then again, I did kinda drag it out longer than I should've. And maybe… maybe I was too caught up in proving a point to ever actually move on."

She groaned, slumping forward and rubbing her temples. "Ugh! Why is it so complicated?! I thought I was OVER us!"

Noah smirked. "So… you're saying we should rebel against the name?"

"Yeah. I'm saying we should prove the name wrong," Courtney corrected, her voice firm. "And if that means crushing The Dominators in the next challenge, then so be it."

"You know, it's not like we did that bad. We just got outplayed. Honestly, we would have had a better chance of winning if Mike hadn't randomly found 8 flags at once," Leshawna said, leaning back in her seat with her arms crossed. She kept her expression neutral, but there was a hint of disappointment in her voice.

"Yeah, I don't know if you saw, but that wasn't Mike." Zoey said.. what did she mean by 'that wasn't Mike'?

Zoey shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her hands gripping the edge of the table. She seemed to be.. choosing her words carefully, in respect for her teammates. She doesn't want to give them a scare so early on in the game. "It was… Mal."

A tense silence fell over the group.

Gwen furrowed her brows. "Wait… Mal? I thought he was gone. I thought they ALL were."

"So did I," Zoey admitted, her voice tight. "But during the challenge, right before Mike grabbed those flags, his whole face changed. His posture, his voice—it wasn't him. And then, out of nowhere, he just had all those flags like they appeared out of thin air."

Trent frowned. "Okay, but are we sure it was Mal? Maybe it was just, like, muscle memory or something?"

"No," Zoey said firmly. "I know Mike. I've seen every side of him, and I know when he's not in control."

Confessional: N oah
The Underdogs

"You know what I DON'T get? How they keep letting Mike in this game knowing what his 'multiple personalities' are capable of. I never formally met the guy, but I have watched the seasons he was in. I mean, he caused like half of the eliminations in All-Stars and got the majority of them hurt. He broke people's things and tried to frame innocent people- so, why is he even still here?"

He leaned back, crossing his arms, his face a mixture of disbelief and frustration. "I get that he's 'working on it' or whatever, but what happens when Mal takes over again? Are we supposed to just trust that he's completely in control? It's not like he can just turn it off whenever it suits him."

Noah shook his head, rubbing his temple as if trying to process it all. "I'm all for second chances, but this is dangerous. It's like giving a kid a loaded gun and saying, 'Don't worry, it's fine, just don't pull the trigger.'"

He sighed, looking directly at the camera. "And if that time bomb goes off, we're all gonna be the ones paying the price. Again."

Cut to last episode when Mal took control of Mike.

Mike takes a deep breath, his eyes flickering. "Alright, I got this."

He jumps, but midair, he suddenly transforms into Mal. "This game is gonna be mine.." Heather says before grabbing a whopping 8 FLAGS.. which is weird because they weren't anywhere to be found, where did he get those flags from?!

Everyone on The Dominators lets out a gasp.

Confessional: Scott
The Dominators

"I thought Mike got over that stupid multiple personalities thing in Season 5.. what happened?" Scott asks with a bewildered expression.

Confessional: M ike
The Dominators

"I don't know HOW it happened or WHEN it happened, but.. is Mal STILL ALIVE?" Mike says, freaking out inside the outhouse.

Mike blinks, shaking his head as he turns back to normal. "Huh? Wait, what happened?"

Geoff pats his shoulder. "Dude, you crushed it!"

"I did? Awesome!" Mike says before turning to the rest of the team, staring at him in fear.

"Why does everyone look so scared?" Mike says — looking rather confused.

Cut to another confessional from Mike. This confessional was not shown in the last episode.

Mike buried his face in his hands for a moment before looking up, fear flashing across his face. "I can't let this happen again."

Mike sat in the confessional, gripping his arms so tightly his knuckles turned white. His breathing was shallow, his eyes darting around like Mal could jump out of the shadows at any second.

"No, no, no… this isn't happening," he muttered, shaking his head. "Mal is gone. He's supposed to be gone! I fought him, I won. I felt him disappear. I was finally free!"

He exhaled shakily, running a trembling hand through his hair. "But today… the way I blacked out, the way everyone was staring at me like I was a monster—" His voice cracked. "I don't even remember grabbing those flags. One second I was me, and the next… it was over."

Mike swallowed hard, gripping his hair. "What if he's still there? What if he was never really gone? What if he's just been waiting, hiding, waiting for the perfect moment to come back?"

His leg bounced anxiously, his fingers digging into his arms. "I can't let this happen again. I won't. I lost control before, and people got hurt. If Mal is really back…" He sucked in a breath, his voice barely above a whisper.

"…Then I don't know if I can stop him this time."

Back at the table, Zoey shook her head. "I don't know what this means, but if Mal is still in there, we have to be careful. I can't go through this again."

Lightning cracked his knuckles. "Well, if that freaky dude is back, he better stay outta my way, or else he'll get struck by Lightning! Sha-bam!"

"Yeah, solve everything with 'sha-violence', cause that's how these games are played." Noah says sarcastically.

"Hey listen man, I don't like your sha-tone-" Lightning quickly responds, until Heather interrupts and speaks up.

"Can you morons stop arguing for one second? If Mal's back, that changes everything."

"What do you mean?" Bridgette asked.

Heather smirked slightly, though there was something uneasy about it. "It means The Dominators have an unpredictable wild card on their hands. And that could either work in their favor… or completely destroy them."

Meanwhile, The Dominators lounged in pure luxury. The pool sparkled under the sun, the buffet table overflowed with gourmet food, and the contestants were living it up without a care in the world. Lindsay and Katie sat comfortably as spa attendants carefully painted their nails, while Geoff and Shawn relaxed in the hot tub, steam rising lazily around them.

"Now this is what I call winning," Scott said, kicking back in a lounge chair with his hands behind his head.

"And the best part?" Alejandro said, sipping a smoothie with a smirk. "We're just getting started."

"We should win every challenge if it means we get to stay here forever!" Sadie said excitedly, clinking her drink against Katie's as they giggled.

Confessional: Sadie & Katie
The Dominators

"Oh-em-gee, this place is amazing!" Katie gushed, throwing her hands up.

"I know, right? I never wanna leave!" Sadie added, clasping her hands together.

"But, like, we have to win every challenge to stay here." Katie replies, realizing the depth of the situation.

"Yeah… that could be hard." Sadie replies. They exchange a nervous glance before shrugging. "Oh well, still worth it!"

"Welcome to Total Drama: The Good Life!" Sierra announced, holding up her phone as she filmed. "Today, we feast like royalty while the peasants—err, the Underdogs—suffer."

Confessional: Sierra
The Dominators

"Have I expressed how much I miss Cody yet? No? Okay, well here goes." Sierra says, before starting to scream.

"I MISS CODYYYYYYYY!" She says, with tears running down her eyes.

"I was so distracted yesterday.. that I didn't even realize Cody's not here! I CAN'T SURVIVE, I CAN'T SURVIVEEEEEE!"

"We shouldn't get too comfortable," Dawn said, her gaze thoughtful as she set down her untouched drink. "This kind of reward breeds overconfidence."

"Yeah, we need to stay sharp," Sky added, nodding in agreement.

Just then, a loud BZZZZZT echoed through the resort, making a few contestants jump. Chris's voice boomed over the loudspeaker.

"Attention, lucky winners! And, of course, our not-so-lucky losers," Chris announced, his tone dripping with amusement. "Get your butts down to the beach! It's time for your next challenge!"

Groans filled the air as The Dominators reluctantly peeled themselves away from their pampered paradise. The party was officially over.

Confessional: Geoff
The Dominators

"Not gonna lie, I was really hoping for a full day of chilling. But hey, this is Total Drama, so I should've known better." He chuckles, shaking his head.

Both teams stood in the sand, the sun beating down on them as Chris stood before them, grinning. Behind him, Chef Hatchet loomed, cracking his knuckles menacingly. A group of interns in sleek black uniforms stood at attention beside him, some looking smug, others miserable.

"Alright, campers!" Chris said, clapping his hands together. "Hope you all enjoyed your totally fair first challenge! But now, it's time to see if you can survive… Seek or Scream!"

"'Seek or Scream'?" Dave asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That's right!" Chris said, his grin widening. "Here's the deal: You do not wanna be found. Our lovely seekers—" he gestured to Chef and the interns, "—are gonna be hunting you down. If you get tagged, you're out! The last team standing wins!"

The camera then moved to a table with 31 small radar machines and 31 flashlights, each looking oddly high-tech for something designed to keep track of who's 'in' or 'out.'

"Each of you will take one of these devices," Chris explained, holding up a small radar. "These bad boys let you track the seekers' locations, helping you steer clear of danger."

"Here's the deal—if you start getting too close to a seeker, your radar will flash an ominous red light as a warning. The closer they get, the faster it blinks. And if they catch you—bam!—you're out of the game!"

Heather raised an eyebrow. "You mean, it's like you're sending us into a trap with tech that could just as easily betray us?"

Chris chuckled. "Well.. if that's how you want to word it then yes."

"Anyways, Chef and my interns also have a radar for themselves. Don't worry, they don't mark exactly where you are — I'm not THAT unfair. Their radars work the same as yours — they'll flash red if a player is nearby. There are also flashlights here. Keep in mind that they are extremely suckish and barely light up anything, and they also have EXTREMELY crappy battery life, soooo it might not be too much help."

"When only two players remain, the game shifts into a race to the now marked target on your radar, where a massive bell awaits. To secure victory, you must reach the bell and ring it before your opponent."

"At this stage, your radars will automatically update to reveal both finalists' locations, meaning the seekers—Chef and the interns—will know exactly where you are. From that moment on, you'll be relentlessly hunted."

"Your mission? Outrun your opponent and the seekers to reach the bell first. Only when you ring it will your team officially claim victory."

"For everyone else, the objective remains the same: stay hidden and avoid getting caught."

"Got it?"

The Dominators and the Underdogs exchanged uneasy glances, all of them now fully aware that this challenge wasn't just about running—there was a whole lot of sneaky tricks involved.

"Great! You have 5 minutes to hide. Now GO!"

Confessional: Zoey
The Underdogs

"5 minutes for 31 people to find a place to hide. Jesus Christ this game is so rigged." Zoey exclaims in an annoyed tone.

Chef cracked his knuckles again, his expression all too eager. The interns exchanged knowing smirks. The contestants all start chattering, each of them grabbing a radar and flashlight before running away. The challenge was on.

The contestants scrambled away from the starting point, their radar machines and flashlights in hand, as Chris's voice echoed in the distance.

After about 10 minutes, Chef was already looking for the campers. As expected however, most did not find a place to hide yet. Courtney rushed to catch up with Duncan, her flashlight flickering in the dim light. She was determined to work with him, but he wasn't making it easy.

"Duncan, wait up!" Courtney called, hurrying to match his pace.

Duncan didn't stop, only glancing over his shoulder. "What do you want now?"

Courtney caught up and stepped in front of him, blocking his path. "Look, we should team up. You're fast, I'm smart. Together, we can totally win this."

Duncan gave her a pointed look, his voice low and annoyed. "No."

Courtney's expression faltered, and she crossed her arms. "You're really gonna pull that again? You don't want to team up with me just because of what happened last season?"

Duncan didn't respond, his gaze distant as he continued walking, clearly not interested in reliving the past.

Courtney's frustration boiled over. "Fine, whatever. I'll take care of myself," she muttered under her breath as she stormed off.

"Your radar's red," Duncan called out nonchalantly, continuing to walk away.

Courtney's eyes widened in panic as she glanced at her radar. It was indeed blinking bright red—way too close to Chef and his interns. Her heart skipped a beat, and she almost screamed in horror, but then she immediately slapped a hand over her mouth, realizing that would definitely give her position away.

"What the hell, Duncan? Thanks for the heads-up, jerk…" She cursed under her breath, trying to calm herself down. She couldn't afford to blow her cover.

Her radar continued to blink ominously as Chef's shadow loomed closer. She immediately runs away, quickly but quietly, as the bright red flashing light on her radar fades the further away she gets.

Confessional: Courtney
The Underdogs

"Unbelievable. I try to work with him, and he rejects me again." She pauses, fuming. "I mean, sure, I messed up before, but he cheated on me. I should be the one mad at him! Whatever. I'll just win this on my own."

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the challenge area, the other contestants found their own hiding spots.

Leshawna and Owen stumbled into a small, overgrown thicket at the edge of the field. Owen barely fit between the narrow branches, but he squeezed in anyway.

"Man, this place smells like old leaves," Owen said, making a face.

Leshawna rolled her eyes but smiled. "It's better than being out in the open and getting tagged. Besides, I'm pretty sure Chef and his crew wouldn't think to look here."

Meanwhile, DJ and Zoey were near the old, crumbling cabin, trying to keep their presence as undetected as possible.

Zoey crouched down behind the wooden porch, the radar beeping softly. "We need to stay super quiet. I'm not good at this kind of thing…"

DJ patted her shoulder, reassuring her. "Hey, don't worry. Just stick close. We got this."

Confessional: Zoey
The Underdogs

"I've never been in a situation like this before, so I'm definitely nervous. But DJ's here, and he's been through some tough challenges. I feel safer with him around."

On the other side of the field, Lindsay and Katie took refuge in a thick cluster of bushes, both trying to keep as still as possible.

Katie whispered, "We're good here, right?"

Lindsay nodded, her flashlight barely lighting the area. "We should be fine. Chef and his team are too busy looking for everyone else."

At the same time, Alejandro and Sierra were strategically placed near a rocky outcrop, using the terrain to their advantage.

Sierra fiddled with her radar, her eyes narrowed. "This is gonna be so fun! I love how much power we have!"

Alejandro raised an eyebrow, eyes scanning the area. "Let's not get too carried away. We're still targets."

Meanwhile, Mike was trying his best to stay hidden near a set of large crates. He felt uneasy, his radar lighting up with every shift in his position.

Leshawna and Owen had just settled in when the first flash of movement caught their attention. Chef's massive figure loomed out of the shadows, his radar flashing red as it honed in on their position.

Leshawna grinned. "Let's go!"

Owen's eyes widened as Chef stormed toward them. "Wait, I thought we were safe in here!"

The chase was on. Leshawna and Owen dashed out of the thicket, their only hope being to outrun the massive figure that was Chef.

Meanwhile, the interns weren't much better at tagging than Chef—still, their pursuit added even more pressure, making every

moment feel like a life-or-death situation.

Chef, grinning widely, scans the area with his radar, his eyes narrowing as he spots a movement.

"Gotcha," Chef said, smirking, his radar flashing red.

Cut to DJ, crouching behind a large rock, doing his best to stay as quiet as possible. The tension in his body is palpable. Up until he realizes his radar is flashing red.

"CRAP, I gotta go.." DJ whispers to himself. Until he feels someone's breath on his back..he turns around to see..

"Aw man, not again!" DJ said, eyes widening in panic as he stands up and bolts, but Chef's long strides quickly close the gap.

Chef slapped DJ's arm with a swift motion.

"You're outta here, buddy," Chef said, a cocky grin on his face.

Cut to Chef, who is now closing in on Gwen, who's hidden among the trees.

"Ah, Gwen! Thought you could blend in with nature?" Chef said, smirking, as he spots her movement.

"Wait, wait, no—" Gwen said, eyes wide in panic as she shoots out from behind the tree and runs, but Chef easily tags her before she can escape.

"Out you go!" Chef said, a wicked smile on his face.

"I was this close to making it…" Gwen said, sighing in frustration as she rubs her forehead.

Cut to Sierra, nervously crouched behind a bush, trying her hardest to stay still. Her radar blinks ominously red.

"Stay calm, stay calm… they can't see me, they can't see me…" Sierra said, whispering to herself, her heart pounding in her chest. "I'm doing this for Cody, for Cody.."

Suddenly, an intern spots her and sneaks up behind her.

"Gotcha!" Intern 2 said, grinning as they tag Sierra.

"No! Not yet!" Sierra said, trying to scramble away, but it's too late. "I failed you Cody.."

Cut to Chef, who is now on the hunt for Trent. He sneaks quietly..

"Trent, where are you hiding?" Chef said, narrowing his eyes as he inches forward.

Trent is crouched under a pile of leaves, holding his breath, but Chef spots a movement. Trent realizes his radar is flashing red, so he tries to make a run for it, but that isn't very effective.

"Found you!" Chef said, grinning as he tags Trent.

"Aw, man, I thought I had a good spot!" Trent said, groaning as he stands up, defeated.

Cut to Anne Maria's hiding spot inside a cave. However, she gives herself away when she feels something drip on her hair.

Anne Maria, crouched down, is trying her best to stay perfectly still. Her radar blinks an ominous red, but she's focused on staying hidden. Her hands grip her knees as she breathes quietly. The atmosphere in the cave is tense—she knows she can't be found.

Suddenly, she feels a drip on her head. She freezes. Then another drip. It's cold.

Anne Maria slowly looks up, but before she can fully process what's happening, another drip lands directly on her hair.

"AHHH! NO, NO, NO!" Anne Maria screamed, jumping up in a panic and running out of the cave. "NOT MY HAIR, NOT AGAIN!"

Cut to another intern, who's just outside the cave, grinning as he hears the scream echo through the air.

"Didn't even have to look for that one," The intern said, laughing to himself, as he casually steps into the cave to find Anne Maria running straight toward him.

Cut to Anne Maria, now out of the cave, frantically brushing her hair and trying to wipe off whatever it was that dripped on her. She's totally panicked.

"Ugh! Are you KIDDING me?!" Anne Maria said, glaring at the cave entrance. "I finally find a good spot, and then some gross cave drip ruins my day!"

Cut to the intern, who tags her as she's still frantically brushing her hair, oblivious to his approach.

"You're out bud," The intern said, grinning broadly.

"NO! This is SO unfair! My hair is ruined now!" Anne Maria said, shaking her head in frustration.

Confessional: Anne Maria
The Underdogs

"Like, seriously? I'm out because of some weird cave drip? That's how it's gonna go down? This challenge is RIDICULOUS!" Anne Maria said, crossing her arms in front of her, still visibly annoyed. "I've been on this show long enough to know how to hide, but this? This? No one told me about the wet cave sabotage."

The camera cuts back to the challenge as the hunt continues, and the remaining contestants hold their breath, hoping they won't be the next to get caught.

The camera pans over the scene as Chef and the interns continue their search, tagging contestants left and right, while the remaining contestants scramble to stay hidden, the tension building with each passing moment.

Geoff and Bridgette both crouched low, their eyes scanning the dark surroundings, trying to keep an eye on their radars. The flashlights barely lit up their surroundings, making everything feel ten times more ominous. As they hid behind trees and rocks, both their radars started blinking red at the same time.

"Uh oh… that's not good." He checked his radar again, his eyes widening. "We've gotta move. Fast." Geoff says, gritting his teeth.

Bridgette, just a few yards away, was doing the same. Her radar blinked red, and she froze for a second, before quickly deciding to run.

Bridgette whispers to herself, "I gotta go, I gotta go…"

In a panic, they both scrambled to get out of the line of sight, not realizing they were heading in the same direction. The dim light of their flashlights did nothing to help them see in the near-total darkness.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps growing louder from both sides. They both heard it, and in the chaos, they bolted forward—straight into each other.

"WHOA!"

"AHHHHHH!"

The two of them went down in a heap, the impact sending them sprawling onto the ground. Their flashlights fell to the side, flickering in the grass.

Geoff tries to get up, groaning. "Ughhh.. that was tough dude."

Bridgette, also trying to stand up, lights up at the sight of Geoff. "Oh my gosh, sorry! I didn't see you! Hi babe!"

They both scrambled to their feet, each a little embarrassed. For a moment, there was nothing but awkward silence. They hadn't really interacted much since the teams were split, and this was… well, not the best reunion.

Geoff rubs his head. "Hey! Yeah, uh, no worries. I was, uh, just… running away from the taggers, you know?"

Bridgette shifts her feet, awkwardly brushing dirt off herself. "Yeah… same here." She paused, biting her lip. "I guess we're both really out of shape after all that, huh?"

Geoff lets out a half-laugh while also.. half-cringing. This is his GIRLFRIEND, why is it so PAINFULLY awkward? "Yeahhh, I mean, who even sees in this stupid flashlight glare?"

There was another awkward silence as both of them checked their radars, hoping they hadn't drawn attention.

Bridgette shifts uncomfortably. "Yeah, no kidding. Anyway, good to see you're, uh, still alive out here…"

Geoff nods quickly. "Totally! Still kicking!"

Another pause.

Bridgette sighs. "I guess we don't really get to talk much anymore, huh?"

Geoff responds a bit awkwardly. "Yeah… guess we don't. Crazy how that worked out. So.. how's your team goin?"

Bridgette glanced around, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

"It's.. it's going. It's all good. Uh.. how about you?" Bridgette asks. Jesus.. why is it so weird?

"Pretty chill, can't complain y'know?" Geoff says, feeling the exact same energy.

"Right! Well… I'll just… um… go that way." She pointed in a random direction, trying to avoid any further awkwardness.

Geoff nods. "Yeah, I'll go this way. Stay safe!"

As they awkwardly split in different directions, their footsteps quickening, the air was filled with that familiar tension they hadn't experienced in a while—both trying not to look back.

Confessional: Geoff
The Dominators

"I don't even know what just happened. It was like I collided with a ghost from my past. Seriously, how did it get so weird between me and Bridgette? We're dating for God's sake. But now? It's like we barely know each other. Total awkwardville." He sighs dramatically. "Maybe I just need to stop thinking about it. Focus on not getting tagged, right?"

Confessional: B ridgette
The Underdogs

"Ugh. That was, like, SO awkward. Geoff and I used to be attached to the hip. And attached to the lips too…" Bridgette chuckles. "But since we're on different teams now, it's just… I don't know. It's like everything's different now. And that stupid collision? I can't believe that even happened." She frowns, looking slightly frustrated with the whole situation. "I just wish things didn't feel so… weird. We're not even on the same team anymore, so I guess it doesn't matter. Still… ugh."

"Who will be the last one standing in this game of chaos? Will the awkward reunion between Geoff and Bridgette spark a comeback for their relationship—or is it officially over? And, most importantly… will anyone survive Chef's hunt? All this and more, coming up after the break!" Chris said, his mischievous grin stretching across his face as the camera fades out, leaving the contestants in suspense.

The show then comes back from break and starts off on Chris, briefly recapping what's happened during the break.

"Welcome back, folks! After the break, it's down to the wire! The last two contestants standing are Duncan and Scott. Everyone else has been tagged, and now it's a race to the bell! Who will get there first? Will Duncan sneak his way to victory for The Underdogs, or will Scott secure the win for The Dominators? Let's see!" Chris announces, excitement building as the camera cuts to Chef, wiping his brow as he scans the area, his eyes narrowing as he checks behind trees and rocks. His radar flashes red, indicating another contestant is nearby. He mutters under his breath as he walks carefully forward.

Chef mutters, "Alright, I know you're here somewhere, you sneaky little punks…"

Cut to Chef's Radar—it blinks in a dull red. He follows the signal with precision, a smirk forming on his face. He knows he's close.

Cut to Duncan, hidden in a tree, trying to stay as still as possible. He's perched on a thick branch, holding his breath. His radar flashes a steady, dull green, meaning Chef isn't close yet. Duncan grins slightly.

Cut to Chef, moving deeper into the forest, sniffing the air.

"Where are you?" Chef muttered, looking from side to side.

Cut to Scott, crouched in a bush not too far away from Duncan's position, his radar still green and calm. His eyes dart around nervously as he watches Chef approach. He holds his breath, trying to stay silent.

"Please, please don't come this way," Scott said under his breath, tightening his grip on the bush.

Cut to Chef, walking right past the bush where Scott is hiding, unaware. Scott's radar blinks in red, signaling Chef is getting closer to him, and Chef's radar beeps, signaling that a hider is nearby.

"It's gotta be one of you two…"

Cut to Chef as he crouches down near a rock formation, staring suspiciously at a patch of bushes. His radar blinks bright red.

Chef grins wide, "Gotcha." He charges forward, eager to finish his search.

Cut to Scott, still crouched in his bush, eyes wide. He's holding his breath, but then the bush trembles slightly. He freezes.

Cut to Duncan, still safely in his tree, glancing at his radar. His face tightens in realization. He sees the red light starting to pulse more rapidly. He hears Chef's footsteps drawing nearer to Scott's position.

Cut to Scott, his heart pounding. He can hear Chef's footsteps growing louder. He can't stay in the bush any longer.

The tension in the air is palpable as Scott sprints ahead, the pounding of his footsteps echoing through the forest. His eyes are locked on the distant bell, and the faint glow from his radar is his only guide. Chef's growls of determination can be heard from behind as the giant tagger barrels through the underbrush.

"This is it.. I'm gonna risk it for the win!" Scott mutters through gritted teeth, pushing his legs harder, adrenaline surging. His breath is coming in sharp, shallow bursts, and his mind is focused solely on the prize.

Behind him, Chef crashes through the trees, eyes burning with intensity. "You're not getting away THAT easily!" Chef roars, his voice cutting through the air like a thunderclap. He knows what's at stake, and he's not about to let Scott snatch the win.

Suddenly, the sound of another set of footsteps joins the fray. Duncan, perched in a nearby tree, watches the entire scene unfold below him. His heart races as he surveys the situation. "OH NO YOU DON'T, FARMER BOY!" Duncan yells, launching himself from the tree with surprising speed and landing in a roll before shooting off in a full sprint toward the bell, his eyes burning with determination.

Scott hears the shout and glances over his shoulder, his panic rising. "What the—Duncan?!" He's already been given a head start, but now he's in a full-out race against both Duncan and Chef. Scott pushes harder, his limbs burning, but the bell seems farther and farther away.

Chef is relentless. He closes in on Scott like a beast on a hunt, his large form moving with surprising agility for someone of his size. "I'm gonna tag you, boy!" Chef shouts, nearly reaching Scott's heels.

Scott's eyes widen, and he cuts sharply to the left, narrowly avoiding Chef's grasp. But the move slows him down, and Duncan gains ground. "You think you can outrun me, Scott?!" Duncan taunts, darting past a bush with precision and determination, his gaze never leaving the bell.

Scott's chest heaves with exertion, and his muscles scream for relief, but he doesn't dare slow down. He can feel Chef and Duncan closing in. He's so close to the bell, but it might as well be a mile away with how fast his heart is pounding in his chest.

Chef, however, is right behind him, grinning like a predator. "You're not getting away!" He lurches forward, his massive hand reaching out to grab Scott.

In a split-second decision, Scott veers off course, running with everything he has left. He dodges, weaves, and sprints with all the energy he can muster, knowing the moment he lets up, he'll be caught. The bell is so close now. Duncan is closing in too, just a few feet away.

"You're not winning this, Scott!" Duncan shouts as he finally draws level with him, throwing all his speed into a final push. "YOU SEEM TO BE FORGETTING THAT I'M A CRIMINAL, I RUN FROM COPS ALL THE TIME!"

Chef's heavy steps echo as he continues to pursue them both, roaring in frustration. "NOOO!"

And then, in the final moments, it's a blur—Duncan and Scott, both within arm's reach of the bell, their bodies exhausted and desperate for victory. The final step… Who will reach it first?

As Scott sprints toward the bell, he hears Chef's heavy footsteps closing in behind him. Panic surges through him, but he pushes himself harder, determined to win.

From the corner of his eye, Scott spots Duncan leaping from a tree, hitting the ground running. Both are now in a full-throttle race, the bell's silhouette visible in the distance.

The terrain is rough, with roots and rocks threatening to trip them at every step. Scott stumbles but quickly regains his balance, the bell drawing nearer.

Chef, realizing both are within reach, bellows, "I'm taking you both down!" His pace quickens, but the gap remains.

With the bell just meters away, Duncan summons a final burst of energy, surging ahead of Scott. He leaps forward, arm outstretched.

"No!" Scott yells, desperation in his voice.

Duncan's hand connects with the bell's rope. He gives it a mighty pull, and the bell's resounding clang echoes through the forest.

Breathless, Duncan turns to Scott with a triumphant grin. "Better luck next time, farmer boy."

Scott, panting heavily, glares but can't hide his disappointment.

"Duncan has won the challenge for The Underdogs! The Underdogs win!" Chris exclaims from the megaphone.

Duncan raises his fist in victory, the sound of the bell still ringing in his ears.

The team erupts in cheers as they see Duncan cross the finish line. Courtney, Zoey, and the others high-five and celebrate.

Courtney raises her arms in triumph. "That's how we do it, Duncan!"

Confessional: Scott
The Dominators

"Man, we had this in the bag… but Duncan's got some serious moves. I guess we'll have to step it up next time," Scott said, shaking his head with a small grin despite his frustration. "I should have expected that honestly, he's an experienced criminal."

Confessional: Duncan
The Underdogs

"Man I never realized that my skills of running from the cops would come in clutch one day, but boy am I grateful." Duncan said, confidently smirking to the camera.

Confessional: Scott
The Dominators

"I feel so ashamed! Because of me, our team has to go back to sleeping in those stupid cabins.. gosh dang it!" Scott says, angrily. "The real question now is.. who goes home?"

"Dominators, I'll see you guys at the elimination tonight." Chris says. "Underdogs, your spa hotel awaits! You guys are safe!"

The Underdogs cheer and all start making their way toward the spa hotel, while The Dominators all groan collectively.

Confessional: Alejandro
The Dominators

"Dave was absolute deadweight today. One of the first to get caught, completely invisible the rest of the time… Honestly, I doubt anyone even noticed he was still here. If he's still sulking over that little breakup with Sky, then he's just dragging the rest of us down. And I, for one, have no interest in carrying extra baggage."

Confessional: Scarlett
The Dominators

"You know, when it comes down to it, we can't afford any slackers. Today, it was clear that someone wasn't pulling their weight at all. I mean, Dave was barely even on the radar—literally! If he's still hung up on that drama with Sky, then what is he really contributing to our team? We need players who bring energy and focus, not someone who fades into the background. In my opinion, if we want to actually have a shot at winning, Dave needs to go home. That's just the cold, hard truth."

Confessional: Sammy
The Dominators

"I don't know about everybody else, but I personally think Ella needs to go. She's.. sweet, I'll give her that; but she's so annoying! While I was hiding today, she invaded my hiding spot and started singing. She's the reason Chef found us! Yeah, she's got to go. That singing should have stayed at Pahkitew Island- it shouldn't even have been there. World Tour was what, like 4 seasons ago?"

Confessional: Mike
The Dominators

"I don't really know who to vote for. But if I had to really pick.. I'd pick Ella. That singing IRRITATED the mess out of me earlier. She caused Chester to come out and then because he was yelling, an intern found me! I think all my personalities are actually back.. truthfully, with Mal back in my mind, it might be best to vote myself off to keep everyone safe.."

Confessional: Dawn
The Dominators

"I don't wish to vote for anyone, really. I have no problems. Everyone seems so nice here!"

Confessional: Sadie and Katie
The Dominators

"Ella."

Confessional: Shawn
The Dominators

"Ella."

At elimination…

"Team, I didn't expect you guys to lose so early, I thought you guys would at least have a winning streak, but, whatevs. You have all casted your votes and made your decision. In an attempt to stir up some unseen drama and controversy, I have decided to go LIVE with your confessionals! Just for some added fun!"

The Dominators all collectively gasp as Chris rolls out a TV displaying some static before replaying all confessionals in the last hour or so.

Confessional: Alejandro
The Dominators

"Dave was absolute deadweight today. One of the first to get caught, completely invisible the rest of the time… Honestly, I doubt anyone even noticed he was still here. If he's still sulking over that little breakup with Sky, then he's just dragging the rest of us down. And I, for one, have no interest in carrying extra baggage."

Confessional: Scarlett
The Dominators

"You know, when it comes down to it, we can't afford any slackers. Today, it was clear that someone wasn't pulling their weight at all. I mean, Dave was barely even on the radar—literally! If he's still hung up on that drama with Sky, then what is he really contributing to our team? We need players who bring energy and focus, not someone who fades into the background. In my opinion, if we want to actually have a shot at winning, Dave needs to go home. That's just the cold, hard truth."

Confessional: Sammy
The Dominators

"I don't know about everybody else, but I personally think Ella needs to go. She's.. sweet, I'll give her that; but she's so annoying! While I was hiding today, she invaded my hiding spot and started singing. She's the reason Chef found us! Yeah, she's got to go. That singing should have stayed at Pahkitew Island- it shouldn't even have been there. World Tour was what, like 4 seasons ago?"

Confessional: Mike
The Dominators

"I don't really know who to vote for. But if I had to really pick.. I'd pick Ella. That singing IRRITATED the mess out of me earlier. She caused Chester to come out and then because he was yelling, an intern found me! I think all my personalities are actually back.. truthfully, with Mal back in my mind, it might be best to vote myself off to keep everyone safe.."

Confessional: Dawn
The Dominators

"I don't wish to vote for anyone, really. I have no problems. Everyone seems so nice here!"

Confessional: Sadie and Katie
The Dominators

"Ella."

Confessional: Shawn
The Dominators

"Ella."

Confessional: Brick
The Dominators

"Look, I've been watchin' everyone, and there's no two ways about it—Dave's been a straight-up liability all day. The guy's been dead weight from the get-go, barely even showin' up when it counts. We need players who are in it to win it, not someone still wallowing in old drama. So, I'm votin' for Dave. That's the bottom line."

Confessional: Ella
The Dominators

"Oh, I simply hate the thought of voting someone out! It feels so terribly unkind… but if I must, I believe I shall vote for Scarlett. She's ever so clever, yes, but she doesn't seem to enjoy teamwork or camaraderie, and that could be quite troublesome for our harmony. A team must be like a flock of birds—working together in perfect rhythm! And, well… she doesn't exactly sing along with the rest of us." She sighs wistfully. "I do hope she doesn't take it personally…"

The camera cuts back to the team, who all sit in tense silence as Chris dramatically dusts off the TV screen.

Chris smirks. "Well, well, well… that was juicy!" He spins around to face the contestants, watching their stunned expressions with amusement. "Now, let's see how our dear nominees feel about this… Dave, Ella, you two got the most votes. Guess it's time for some good ol' fashioned team bonding—aka arguing for your lives!"

Ella gasps, clasping her hands together. "Oh dear… I truly didn't mean to cause any trouble!"

Dave, on the other hand, just sits there, looking completely unamused.

Alejandro sighs, shaking his head. "No offense, Dave, but I'm honestly surprised you're even awake for this."

Dave finally stands up, his face twisting in frustration. "Oh, I'm sorry, was I supposed to be putting on a whole Broadway show today? I was trying to lay low! You know, like hiding in a hide-and-seek challenge?"

Scarlett adjusts her glasses. "That would have been a great strategy… if it had worked. But unfortunately, you were still caught early on and contributed absolutely nothing after that. We might as well have been down a player the entire time."

Dave scoffs. "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot you were the team leader, Scarlett. Maybe if you and Alejandro spent less time strategizing how to throw everyone under the bus, we wouldn't have lost in the first place."

Brick nods firmly. "Look, man, it's not personal, but we need soldiers who are ready for battle. And you?" He shrugs. "You were sittin' on the sidelines while the rest of us fought."

Dave glares at him. "Dude, we're not soldiers, it's a game! And if we're talking about losing, how about we mention Ella getting people caught with her singing? Why isn't she the one going home?"

Ella gasps, her hands flying to her chest. "Oh my stars! That was a complete accident! I was merely trying to bring some joy to our stressful predicament—like a songbird in the morning mist!"

Sammy rolls her eyes. "Well, your 'songbird' act totally got me eliminated. And Mike, too."

Mike rubs the back of his neck, looking away awkwardly. "Yeah, uh… Chester was not happy about that."

Ella frowns. "Oh, dear… I truly didn't mean to cause such a disruption."

Katie crosses her arms. "Well, you did, and honestly, I still think you should be the one going home."

Sadie nods in agreement. "Yeah! If I hear one more spontaneous musical number, I think my ears are gonna fall off."

Ella pouts, looking genuinely hurt, but before she can respond, Chris claps his hands together.

"Wow! This is exactly why I love playing back confessionals. But as much fun as this little showdown is, none of this arguing about Ella going home matters because Dave is the one that's been eliminated!" He picks up the final marshmallow. "The last marshmallow of the night goes to Ella."

Ella gasps in relief, gently taking the marshmallow as the others look between each other, some satisfied, others less so, while Chris tosses the rest of the marshmallows to everybody else. Except Dave, of course.

Chris smirks at Dave. "Welp, Davey-boy, looks like heartbreak is not a good game strategy. Looks like you're out."

Dave groans, rubbing his face in frustration. "You have to be kidding me."

He grabs his bag and stomps over to the Dock of Shame, shooting a glare back at the team. "You know what? Fine. Whatever. Have fun losing again without me."

Sky watches silently from the sidelines, shifting uncomfortably as Dave boards the Boat of Losers.

Chris grins. "Fifteen Dominators, fifteen Underdogs, leaving us with an even 30 competitors! Will the Dominators bounce back from this loss? Will The Underdogs keep their winning streak? And will Ella learn to not turn everything into a musical? Find out next time on… TOTAL! DRAMA! GENERATIONAL WARFARE!"

Chapter Text

Episode 4: "Kitchen Nightmares"

The camera zooms in dramatically on Chris McLean, standing atop a rocky cliffside, wind blowing through his perfect hair as he grins at the camera.

"Last time on Total Drama: Generational Warfare!"

Cue montage of dramatic action shots—contestants sprinting through the jungle, Chef tackling a bush with unnecessary force, a screaming Lindsay being chased by a parrot, and Noah getting yanked into a tree by his hoodie.

"Our lovely little test subjects participated in a high-stakes, adrenaline-pumping hide-and-seek challenge in the heart of the jungle! Our contestants had one simple task—don't get caught by Chef or my, let's be honest, completely disposable interns. Sounds easy, right? Wrong. It was an all-out battle of wits, reflexes, and sheer dumb luck!"

Cut to Chef barreling through the jungle, a wild grin on his face as he tackles a terrified Brick to the ground. Elsewhere, Scarlett adjusts her glasses, calculating her next move, only for Sky to trip and send them both crashing into the dirt.

"While some contestants relied on strategy…"

Cut to Shawn camouflaging himself under a pile of leaves while Dawn meditates next to him.

"Others… not so much."

Cut to Owen attempting to hide behind a tree that is at least two sizes too small for his body.

"Courtney tried to make amends with Duncan, just for him to blow her off! How the tables have turned huh?"

Cut to Courtney running alongside Duncan trying to talk to him, only for him to completely blow her off and keep running.

"Duncan, wait up!" Courtney called, hurrying to match his pace.

Duncan didn't stop, only glancing over his shoulder. "What do you want now?"

Courtney caught up and stepped in front of him, blocking his path. "Look, we should team up. You're fast, I'm smart. Together, we can totally win this."

Duncan gave her a pointed look, his voice low and annoyed. "No."

Courtney's expression faltered, and she crossed her arms. "You're really gonna pull that again? You don't want to team up with me just because of what happened last season?"

Duncan didn't respond, his gaze distant as he continued walking, clearly not interested in reliving the past.

Courtney's frustration boiled over. "Fine, whatever. I'll take care of myself," she muttered under her breath as she stormed off.

"Your radar's red," Duncan called out nonchalantly, continuing to walk away.

Courtney's eyes widened in panic as she glanced at her radar. It was indeed blinking bright red—way too close to Chef and his interns. Her heart skipped a beat, and she almost screamed in horror, but then she immediately slapped a hand over her mouth, realizing that would definitely give her position away.

"What the hell, Duncan? Thanks for the heads-up, jerk…" She cursed under her breath, trying to calm herself down. She couldn't afford to blow her cover.

Cut back to this episode, with Chris hysterically laughing.

"Glad to see the dude's finally moved on. It's nice to see the latter chasing now. It's honestly hilarious.. but in the end, it came down to a nail-biting, heart-racing, action-movie-worthy sprint between Duncan and Scott—two bad boys with everything to prove!"

Cut to slow-motion footage of Duncan and Scott tearing through the jungle, leaping over roots, dodging branches, and shoving each other aside. Scott lunges forward—only for Duncan to dive across the finish line at the last second!

"And just like that, the Underdogs took home their first win of the season! Woohoo! Big moment for them—but you know what they say—pride comes before the downfall… or something dramatic like that!"

Cut to the Dominators slumped in defeat, frustration clear on their faces.

"And oh boy, did the claws come out after this one! With their first loss looming over them, the Dominators imploded. Dave? Yeah, he was enemy number one. Not only did he get caught early, but let's face it—dude has the emotional stability of a wet paper towel."

Cut to a montage of Dave freaking out over mud on his shoes, screaming at a spider, and dramatically gasping as Mike and Sammy step too close to him.

"But wait! There was a wild card—Ella. Sweet, Disney-channel-core Ella, whose relentless singing led several teammates directly into Chef's waiting arms."

Cut to footage of Ella twirling through the jungle, singing a cheerful tune—completely oblivious as Chef grabs a horrified Sadie and Katie from behind her.

"When push came to shove, Dave was the one who got the most votes. And let's just say, he did not take it well."

Cut to elimination—Chris tosses the final marshmallow to Ella, who gasps happily while Dave's jaw drops in pure betrayal.

Dave groans, rubbing his face in frustration. "You have to be kidding me."

He grabs his bag and stomps over to the Dock of Shame, shooting a glare back at the team. "You know what? Fine. Whatever. Have fun losing again without me."

Sky watches silently from the sidelines, shifting uncomfortably as Dave boards the Boat of Losers.

"With a storm-off worthy of reality TV history, Dave took the dreaded walk to the Boat of Losers, leaving behind a fractured team, some lingering grudges, and a very smug Scarlett."

Cut to Scarlett adjusting her glasses with a knowing smirk.

"So, what's next? Will the Underdogs ride their momentum to another win? Or will the Dominators finally pull it together, or, more likely, crash and burn in spectacular fashion? Find out right now on…TOTAL… DRAMA… GENERATIONAL WARFARE!"

Cut to a dramatic explosion in the background as the camera zooms in on Chris.

(Cue the TDGW Intro)

The episode opens in the McLean Spa Hotel, an extravagant resort-like hideout for the winning team. The camera pans across the luxurious space—massive pools, saunas, buffets stacked with food, and even personal massage chairs. Cut to the Underdogs scattered across the resort, fully embracing their rewards. Owen lounges in a giant hot tub, holding a plate stacked with ribs. Jasmine and Leshawna are getting professional massages. Noah is sprawled out in a chair with cucumber slices over his eyes. Meanwhile, Courtney and Zoey are sipping smoothies by the pool, making small talk.

"I could get used to this," Courtney said, stretching her arms as she leaned back in her chair.

"Right? No stress, no drama, just total relaxation. It's like we're on vacation!" Zoey said, taking another sip of her smoothie.

Cut to Dakota taking selfies in a mirror, trying to capture the "perfect spa look," while Lightning flexes in the background. Heather walks by and snatches a cupcake from the buffet, rolling her eyes at Dakota's posing.

"You do realize there's no Wi-Fi here, right?" Heather said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but when we do get back to civilization, I need the perfect post to remind people how fabulous I looked," Dakota said, flipping her hair.

The camera then cuts to Duncan stepping out of the sauna, shirtless, a towel draped over his shoulders as he stretches.

"Man, this beats getting chased by Chef any day," Duncan said, smirking.

As he turns the corner, he immediately bumps into Gwen, who was coming from the opposite direction, also wrapped in a towel. The impact causes Gwen to stumble slightly, and both Gwen and Duncan instinctively reach out to steady each other.

"Oh! Uh—sorry, I—" Gwen started, quickly regaining her balance.

"Nah, my bad—should've been watching where I was going," Duncan said, rubbing the back of his neck.

A long, awkward silence follows. Gwen looks anywhere but at Duncan. Duncan glances away, clearly uncomfortable. The tension is palpable.

"Sooo… uh… this is awkward, huh?" Gwen said, forcing a small chuckle.

"A little," Duncan admitted.

Another silence. Gwen awkwardly crosses her arms, gripping her towel tighter.

"Y'know, it's cool that we're both on the same team and all. Less… competition between us. Less drama," Gwen said, shifting on her feet.

"Yeah. Less drama is… good. Totally good," Duncan said, nodding a little too quickly.

They both glance around as if hoping for a distraction. Duncan clears his throat.

"Look, about… y'know, everything that went down before—" Duncan started.

"We don't have to talk about it," Gwen interrupted, turning to the side to hide a blush getting worse by the second.

Duncan hesitates, then nods.

"Uh- yeah.. yeah, cool. Yeah. Not talking works," Duncan said, looking to see if anything will happen so that they can easily escape this interaction.

They awkwardly shuffle past each other, both looking a little tense. As Gwen disappears down the hall, Duncan lets out a breath and mutters to himself.

"Yeah, this season's gonna be real interesting…" Duncan said under his breath.

"Real interesting indeed.." Gwen said under her own breath.

Confessional:  Duncan

The Underdogs

"I told myself I wasn't gonna deal with Gwen… or Courtney. Too much history, too much drama. But then—bam! I literally run into Gwen. Awkward as hell. Figured I might as well say something, clear the air. What's the worst that could happen, right?"

Confessional: Gwen

The Underdogs

"Of all the people to run into—literally—it had to be Duncan. I mean, okay we're teammates so it was bound for us to cross paths eventually. And yeah, of course, it was awkward. I mean, what do you even say after everything? 'Hey, remember when I broke up with you, fixed my relationship with your ex and proceeded to make fun of you alongside her?' Yeah, no thanks. I told myself I was over it, that we'd just be teammates and nothing more… but seeing him again, talking to him, even for a second—it just… ugh. It's whatever. It doesn't matter. We've both moved on… right?"

She says, looking a little tense and unsure for a moment.

Confessional:

Courtney - The Underdogs

"I just don't get it. I tried—really tried—to get Duncan on my side this time. I even begged him to team up with me! But no, he just brushed me off like it was nothing. And then, Gwen of all people, just shows up, says a couple words, and suddenly Duncan's all ears? Really? I mean, she's the girl he cheated on me with in the first place! And now he's playing nice with her? What does she have that I don't? What does she have that's so much better than me? It's like he's got this switch, and the moment I try to talk to him, I get shut down. But Gwen? She just gets a free pass. I hate to admit it, but it stings. And let's be real, that was never the plan. He was supposed to at least hear me out.. like what?"

Now we go to The Dominators gathered in the mess hall, still feeling the aftermath of last night's drama. The silence is heavy, tension in the air. No one speaks at first, all of them lost in their thoughts.

"I… I just wanted to make the mood a little brighter. I didn't mean to upset anyone." Ella said, fiddling with her fingers, her gaze fixed downward.

"Ella, it's not just about you. We were a team, and it felt like you weren't taking this seriously. You had the potential to help, but instead, it was like you were just playing around. We lost because YOU couldn't get it together." Sky said, glaring at Ella, frustration evident in her voice.

"Because I couldn't get it together? I actually hid for a while before I started singing! Meanwhile, Dave got caught almost immediately—there's a reason he went home instead of me!" Ella exclaimed, her voice sharper than usual. Her teammates exchanged surprised glances—it was strange hearing Ella speak so bluntly, with real frustration in her voice. "You know, it's funny—I'm getting all this backlash for 'costing us the challenge,' but we literally voted someone out last night for doing way less than I did. Yeah, we lost this time, but we won the first challenge. Did you really think we were going to win every time? Be realistic."

Confessional: Sammy

The Dominators

"I don't think I've ever seen Ella act… normal before. No singing, no fairy-tale talk—just pure frustration. And honestly? It's kinda unsettling. It's like watching a cartoon princess suddenly drop the act and start ranting like a regular person. I didn't even know she could do that!"

Confessional: Mike

The Dominators

"I mean, I get why she's upset, but it's just so weird seeing Ella actually argue. She's usually all about spreading joy and kindness, and now she's—" He suddenly flinches, and deeply inhaled as he switches. Here's Mal again.. "Now this is interesting. Turns out the little songbird's got some bite. Maybe she's finally waking up to reality… or better yet, cracking under the pressure. Either way, I like it. I don't really feel like I got my proper introduction.. yes everyone, Mike and Chris are right. I am officially BACK." Mal says before he starts laughing evilly, as the camera pans into his face.

Confessional: Lindsay

The Dominators

"Wait… so Ella can talk like a normal person? Huh. I always thought she was just born singing. Like, maybe she popped out of the womb doing a musical number. But now she's all serious and mad? I don't know if I should be scared or impressed!"

"It's not like Ella meant any harm, right? I mean, she was just trying to…" Lindsay said, her voice soft as she nervously shifted, trying to defuse the tension.

"You're missing the point, Lindsay. We didn't need a songbird, we needed a strategist." Scarlett said, cutting Lindsay off with a pointed look, her voice sharp and unforgiving.

Ella scoffed, crossing her arms. "Oh, I'm the problem because I wasn't strategic enough? News flash, Scarlett—we were playing hide and seek, not chess. And forgive me for thinking that maybe, just maybe, boosting morale could've helped instead of everyone panicking like headless chickens." She shot Scarlett a glare. "But sure, let's pretend this whole thing was entirely on me and not the fact that half the team couldn't even find a decent hiding spot— cause that's how that works."

Confessional: Scarlett

The Dominators

Scarlett adjusts her glasses, expression unreadable. "Well, this is unexpected. I always assumed Ella was incapable of anything beyond nauseating optimism and incessant warbling. But now? She's actually displaying frustration, critical thinking… dare I say, spite? It's fascinating." She smirks slightly, tapping her fingers together. "Perhaps there's more to her than I initially calculated. Or perhaps… she's simply unraveling. Either way, this could be useful."

"Enough. This petty arguing is getting us nowhere. We lost. It happened. What matters now is how we move forward. Pointing fingers won't help us win the next challenge." Alejandro said, his gaze sweeping across the group, forcing the others to listen.

The team, though still visibly uncomfortable, nodded. The tension in the air began to ease ever so slightly, as they all reluctantly accepted that they had to focus on the future. Just as the group started to settle, a voice echoed from across the camp.

"Alright, campers, listen up!" Chris said, appearing out of nowhere with a smirk on his face. His voice was full of excitement.

"Time to shake off the drama and get ready for your next challenge!" Chris said, looking over at the group with a gleam in his eye.

The Dominators exchanged wary glances as they braced themselves for whatever was coming next.

Confessional:

Ella - The Dominators

"Okay, seriously… I don't know why I'm being treated like I did something illegal. I'm not Heather, okay- I didn't kiss my mortal enemy's boyfriend. Well- not that I had enemies to begin with up until now. Why does it feel like I'm being treated like the plague? Yeah, I get it—I shouldn't have started singing during the challenge. But I was just trying to lighten the mood! We were stuck in the dark with those scary red flashing radars, I thought a little song would help ease the tension. But, I was wrong. I suppose the timing was bad, I'll admit. It was ONE challenge I messed up though.. you know what? Maybe I shouldn't be here anymore. I mean, I almost wish I went home instead of Dave. Maybe I'll just vote myself off if we lose the upcoming challenge. If you guys wanted me out of my little 'Disney princess' bubble, well you got it then. This is Ella out of the bubble."

Chris stood with his arms wide, a grin plastered across his face. "Ladies and gentlemen, get ready, because today's challenge is Kitchen Nightmares!" His words rolled off his tongue like a well-rehearsed monologue, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"You'll be cooking a multi-course meal, and let me tell you, the stakes are high. Appetizers, mains, and desserts—everything must be perfect. Everything will be judged. And it's not just me deciding your fate." He pointed to Chef, who stood behind him with a sour expression, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"Chef will also be assessing your culinary skills, which, I'm sure, will be an interesting experience for all of us."

Chef grunted, crossing his arms, muttering something under his breath about "amateurs" and "wasting ingredients."

Chris ignored him, pacing back and forth like a high-powered CEO giving a motivational speech. "You're not just cooking for me, folks. No, no. You're cooking for your lives! One team will walk away safe tonight, and the other? Well, let's just say there'll be no room for any underdog stories after this — yes, pun intended." He said, earning disapproving glares from a few of The Underdogs.

"And also, there's a twist," he continued, shifting his stance like he was preparing to announce a great discovery. "You'll have limited time—60 minutes—and limited ingredients. Don't get too cozy, because this is no five-star restaurant. This is a nightmare."

He leaned forward, his tone dropping lower, more menacing. "Get your aprons on, get in those kitchens, and show me what you've got. The clock starts now!"

He spun around, his eyes gleaming with excitement as chaos erupted in the kitchens. The teams rushed into the kitchen. But when all 30 contestants enter the kitchen, they all pause in fear. Good Lord… how are they supposed to cook in this kitchen.. this is why Chris calls it 'Kitchen Nightmares'…

The moment all contestants spilled into the kitchen, they froze. It was like walking into the aftermath of a disaster—pots and pans were stacked haphazardly on every surface, ingredients scattered in every direction. Half the counters were cluttered with things no one seemed to need, while the other half were bare, save for a few wilted vegetables and some oddly misplaced cans. It looked less like a cooking station and more like a hoarder's nightmare.

Chris, standing off to the side, had a grin on his face, eyes practically sparkling with amusement. "What's wrong, everyone?" he asked, feigning innocence. "You didn't expect a perfect kitchen, did you?" He chuckled at the sight of contestants exchanging confused and panicked glances.

A slow wave of dread spread across the room. Duncan, his usual confidence shaken, scratched his head, staring at the chaos in disbelief. "This is… this is a kitchen?" he muttered, his voice a mix of horror and sarcasm. "I've seen better setups at a fast-food joint."

Bridgette, already panicking, looked like she might actually cry. "How are we supposed to even start cooking with all this mess?" She picked up a blender that looked like it had been through a war, shaking her head in disbelief. "This thing's probably broken."

Meanwhile, Lindsay's eyes were wide, her hand over her mouth as she gasped. "Oh my gosh, what did we get ourselves into? This is like… nightmare fuel!" Her voice trembled as she scanned the mess, the disarray overwhelming her sunny disposition.

Zoey, though clearly freaked out, did her best to stay calm. "Okay, okay," she said, stepping forward. "We can make this work, right? We just need to—" But as she tried to reach for some ingredients, a pot crashed to the ground with a loud clang, making her jump back in surprise.

The kitchen had become an absolute circus of noise, confusion, and tension. Chris watched from the sidelines, savoring every moment. "Looks like you've got your work cut out for you. But don't worry, it's just the start of your nightmare."

The contestants stood there, frozen for a beat longer, before chaos fully erupted. The clatter of pots, the frantic scrambling to find ingredients, and the desperate attempts to figure out where anything was began, filling the air with an almost suffocating tension. This challenge was not going to be easy. And the kitchen was certainly not going to be the only nightmare they'd face.

Thankfully, all the contestants managed to get the kitchen and table clean as both teams agreed to team up JUST this once to clean the kitchen and wash the dishes so they could start the challenge. But, it was probably the hardest thing ever..

Courtney — and VERY reluctantly, Duncan, were about to clean behind the dirty fridge, when a family of rats jumped from behind them and onto both of them.

Courtney froze, her eyes going wide as she let out a scream that echoed across the kitchen. "OH MY GOD! GET THEM OFF! GET THEM OFF!" she shrieked, swatting wildly at the rats that had suddenly leapt onto her. One of them latched onto her arm, sending her into a full panic mode as she shook it off and flung the rat across the room, causing the rest of the contestants to scream.

Confessional: DJ

The Underdogs

"This challenge.. I thought it would be like the cooking thing we did back in Season 1. THIS is NOTHING like I expected."

Confessional: Alejandro

The Dominators

The camera zooms in on Alejandro, who stands with a smug, yet slightly unnerved, expression.

"Honestly, I expected a challenge that would test our skills in a more… refined manner. But this? This is an absolute joke. I mean, I've dealt with worse in my time, but rats? And a kitchen that looks like it hasn't seen soap in years? It's beneath me." He smirks, trying to regain his composure. "Still, I suppose I'll manage. My team needs someone with grace and finesse to navigate this disaster. If anyone can turn this mess into a masterpiece, it's me. And if not, well… I'll make sure the rats get their fair share of blame." He chuckles lightly, clearly trying to maintain control of the situation.

Duncan, too, had a rat leap onto his shoulder. His reaction wasn't much better. He cursed out loud, batting at the little creature with his elbow. "Oh, sick!" he yelled, trying to shake the rat free. "Chris! You didn't say this was part of the challenge!"

Meanwhile, across the room, Lindsay screamed in unison with Courtney, her hands flying up to cover her face. "Oh my gosh! Why are there rats?!"

Just then, a shrill shriek pierced through the chaos.

"EW! EW! EW! This is disgusting!" Dakota wailed, frantically flailing her hands. "Something just touched my hair! My hair! Do you know how much effort it takes to maintain this level of perfection?! And now—oh, ugh!—now it's all over my clothes! I swear, I am not built for this!"

Chris, watching from the doorway with far too much enjoyment, raised an eyebrow. "Well, I did say it was a nightmare kitchen. And what's a nightmare without a few, uh, surprises? Come on, you've been on this show for, like, six seasons—you should know me by now."

Courtney was still trembling, her face pale as she wiped her hands on her shirt, trying to shake off the lingering disgust. "I swear, I'll never eat another piece of cheese again if it means I don't have to deal with this!"

Heather groaned, arms crossed. "Oh, please. It's just a few rodents. You're acting like they're going to eat you alive."

Confessional: Heather

The Underdogs

"Let's get one thing straight—I do not like rats. But come on, it's Chris. We've been dealing with his disgusting challenges for six seasons now. Are we really still acting surprised?"

Lightning, who had been standing frozen, suddenly yelped when a rat scurried over his shoe. "Ayo, no way! This is not what Lightning signed up for, bro!" He jumped back, bumping into DJ, who had gone rigid with wide eyes.

Chris chuckled, clearly enjoying the chaos. "Oh, but it is what you signed up for, bro," he said, pulling a stack of papers from his pocket and waving them around. "You know, that little thing called a contract? The one that basically says I can throw whatever twisted challenge I want at you, and you just have to deal with it?"

He smirked as Lightning and the others groaned. "So, unless you wanna forfeit and head home early… I'd suggest getting over it fast."

DJ gulped, shaking his head. "I—I can't do this. Rats are, like, my worst nightmare! We gotta get out of here, man."

Noah, standing off to the side with his arms crossed, rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, sure. Let's all just walk out and give Chris exactly what he wants. Brilliant strategy."

Zoey, still shuddering, looked around. "We can't just stand here freaking out. The faster we clean this place up, the sooner we can start cooking and leave."

Scarlett adjusted her glasses, eyeing the chaos unfolding in front of her. "If I may suggest a logical course of action—panicking is only wasting valuable time. Perhaps if you all put your energy into the challenge instead of screaming, we'd be done by now."

"Logical course of action?!" Sadie screeched, clinging onto Katie's arm. "How are we supposed to think logically when there are rats literally running everywhere?!"

"Yeah!" Katie agreed, shaking her head. "This is, like, so not okay!"

Across the room, Alejandro dusted himself off, seemingly unfazed. "Well, if Chris wanted chaos, he certainly got it." He smirked, watching everyone scramble.

"Uh, guys? Maybe we should focus on getting rid of the rats before we start cooking?" Bridgette suggested, inching away from a nearby rat.

Shawn, on the other hand, was in full survival mode. "Alright, people, listen up! We need to create a barricade and force the rats into one section of the kitchen. If we can control their movements, we can—"

Scott clapped a hand on Shawn's shoulder. "Yeah, yeah, Ratatouille is great and all, but I don't think anyone here is gonna team up with these little freaks."

Ella, meanwhile, was crouched down, reaching a hand out toward a small rat. "Oh, but they're just poor little creatures! They're probably just as scared of us as we are of them."

"Yeah, sure," Sammy muttered, side-eyeing Ella as she tried to befriend a rat. "Because that's what's important right now."

Duncan, still brushing himself off, shot a glare at Chris. "You can't be serious. You expect us to cook in here, surrounded by this? This is your idea of a challenge?"

Chris laughed, hands on his hips. "You're right, Duncan. It's not just about the cooking… it's about survival."

With a deep sigh, Courtney took a deep breath and stepped back toward the fridge. "Well, we're cleaning this kitchen, no matter what. Let's just get this over with before another rat decides to make a surprise appearance."

Everyone exchanged reluctant glances before, little by little, they got to work—though not without a few more squeals, complaints, and near breakdowns along the way.

After 30 minutes, the kitchen was finally.. usable. It was cleaner and all the dishes were done. Now, with half an hour left, it's time to get to work.

"Great job, guys! You cleaned the kitchen! Unfortunately, that ate up all the time you had to cook, leaving you with just 30 minutes. Thirty minutes to clean a kitchen—seriously? I can't believe it took you that long!" Chris says, acting surprised, even though the reason is obvious.

"Wait, hold on, that's not fair!" Dakota protests, stepping forward with her arms crossed. "We just spent thirty minutes cleaning up a mess we didn't even make! That should count for something. You can't expect us to whip up a full meal in half an hour when we wasted all that time scrubbing dishes and mopping floors!"

Chris smirks, clearly enjoying her frustration. "Oh, but I can. And I will. That's the game, Princess."

"But—"

"No buts! Unless you want to waste more of your precious time arguing?"

"Whatever.." Dakota says, giving up and deciding not to waste any more time trying to negotiate with someone as cruel as Chris.

Some time later…

"Hey, guys, I found some ingredients!" Duncan called out from a walk in freezer.

The rest of the cast walk to the freezer and each pair up and grab something they can cook with. However, the only people left without pairs were Heather and Duncan.

"Well, I guess that leaves you and me to make.." Duncan says as he trails off, looking through the freezer to see what they can make. The only thing he finds is some raw salmon. "Salmon.."

"Let's see if you're as good at cooking as you are at getting arrested." Heather jokingly said, with a smirk.

Duncan smirked at Heather's jab, grabbing the salmon and tossing it between his hands. "Ha-ha. Hilarious. You gonna keep making jokes, or are we actually gonna cook?"

Heather raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. "That depends. Do you even know how to cook salmon?"

"Do you?" Duncan shot back.

Heather huffed, rolling her eyes. "Ugh, move over. I'll handle the seasoning. Just don't burn it."

Duncan chuckled. "Wow, I didn't know you cared so much about food, Queen Bee."

"I don't," Heather said, taking the salmon from him. "I just refuse to lose because of you."

Despite her sharp words, there was something different about her tone—less venomous than usual. Duncan noticed, but he didn't call it out. Instead, he just smirked and started prepping the pan.

Meanwhile, across the kitchen, the other pairs were scrambling to put something together.

Other pairs, such as Courtney & Lightning, weren't working too well. After all, what have Courtney and Lindsay ever had in common? The two had grabbed some chicken, with Courtney taking charge immediately.

"Alright, I'll handle the seasoning. You can—" Courtney says before Lightning loudly boasts about his 'cooking skills'.

"Yo, I got this! Lightning's got skills in the kitchen, girl!" Lightning boasted, grabbing the chicken.

Courtney groaned. "Just don't undercook it, okay?"

Gwen & Trent, the former couple ended up with pasta and tomatoes. Trent gave Gwen an awkward smile. "Well, at least we don't have to deal with raw meat?"

Gwen smirked. "Yeah, and maybe this time you won't mess up the ratio of sauce to noodles."

Trent sighed. "You're never letting that go, are you?"

Lindsay & Alejandro ended up with eggs and various vegetables, quickly deciding on an omelet.

"Oh my gosh, do you think we can make it, like, super fancy?" Lindsay asked excitedly.

Alejandro flashed his signature charming smile. "With me in the kitchen? Everything is fancy."

Dakota & Zoey paired up together. Dakota sighed dramatically as she held a bag of flour. "Ugh, why did we end up with baking? Do I look like someone who bakes?"

Zoey gave her a nervous smile. "It's not so bad! We can make biscuits or something?"

Dakota groaned. "Fine. But if I get flour on my outfit, you're responsible."

Back at Duncan and Heather's station, the two were surprisingly working well together. Duncan was handling the stove, and Heather was mixing up a quick marinade.

"Not bad, delinquent," Heather admitted as she watched him flip the salmon.

Duncan smirked. "Coming from you? That's basically a compliment."

Heather scoffed but didn't deny it. Maybe working with Duncan wasn't so bad after all.

Of course, Noah and Owen were working together. That's pretty obvious.

Noah frowned as he stared at the bread and cheese in front of them. "Seriously? This is what we get? Grilled cheese?"

Owen grinned, grabbing the cheese. "Grilled cheese is amazing, bro! You can never go wrong with cheese!"

Noah raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I can think of a few ways to mess it up, trust me."

As the contestants scrambled to cook their meals, the kitchen quickly turned into a mess again—something Courtney was not happy about.

"Guys, we just cleaned this place! Can we please not turn it into a disaster again?!" she barked, dodging a flying piece of onion that Owen accidentally flung her way.

"Whoops! My bad!" Owen chuckled as he flipped his grilled cheese. "Hey, Noah, you think adding extra butter makes it extra delicious?"

Noah sighed, staring at the greasy pan. "At this point, it's just fried butter with a side of bread."

On the other side of the kitchen, Geoff and Sierra were having a little too much fun making their spaghetti.

"Dude, this sauce is looking epic," Geoff said, stirring the pot with enthusiasm.

Sierra nodded. "We should totally do a spaghetti flip! You know, like when they toss pizza dough but with noodles!"

Geoff's eyes widened. "That sounds rad."

Without thinking, he scooped up a handful of steaming pasta and tossed it in the air—only for it to land directly on Scott's head.

Scott froze, strands of spaghetti draping over his face. "…Are you kidding me?"

Geoff burst out laughing. "Dude, you kinda look like a pasta monster!"

Scott scowled, picking a noodle out of his hair. "You better hope your food is better than ours, or I'm voting your spaghetti-loving butt out."

As the contestants scrambled to finish their dishes, Scarlett stood confidently over her station, carefully measuring ingredients for what she proudly declared to be a "sophisticated gourmet dish"—a delicate soufflé with a reduction sauce.

Dawn, her cooking partner, watched with a serene expression, holding a bundle of fresh herbs. "Are you sure this is the right path, Scarlett? The energy of the kitchen is telling me that something is… off."

Scarlett scoffed. "Dawn, please. This is a competition. Do you really think something as basic as an herb-infused dish will impress Chris? No, we need finesse. We need elevation. We need—"

Before she could finish, a loud BANG erupted from the oven. Smoke began billowing out.

Dawn cringed, placing a hand on her temple. "Oh no… the soufflé is angry."

Scarlett's eyes widened. "Impossible! I followed the precise calculations!"

Dawn cautiously opened the oven and gasped. "Scarlett… it's collapsing in on itself. It's suffering."

Inside, the soufflé had not risen. In fact, it had imploded into a dark, bubbling, tar-like mess, oozing over the edges of the dish and dripping onto the oven racks like some kind of mutated sludge. A putrid smell filled the air.

Scarlett grabbed a towel and yanked the dish out, inspecting it furiously. "No, no, no! This isn't right! The molecular composition should have—"

Suddenly, the entire soufflé collapsed in on itself with a sickening schlurp, letting out a faint hiss as if it were… alive.

Dawn took a step back, eyes wide. "…Scarlett, it's in pain."

Scarlett blinked. "…I may have miscalculated."

Dawn grimaced, fanning the air. "And it smells like pure toxicity. This poor dish never had a chance to fulfill its true purpose."

At that moment, the entire dish burst into flames.

Both girls jumped back as a small fireball shot up from the pan, causing everyone in the kitchen to turn and stare.

Chris, watching from the sidelines, smirked. "Yikes, Scarlett. I was gonna say your dish looks like something out of a science experiment, but now? It looks more like a horror movie."

Scarlett clenched her fists, her eye twitching. "This… this is unacceptable."

Dawn quickly sprinkled a handful of herbs over the flames before grabbing a fire extinguisher. "Rest now, troubled soul," she murmured as she put out the mess.

Scarlett simply stood there, frozen, her eye twitching as a tiny puff of smoke curled up from the blackened dish.

Confessional: Scarlett

The Dominators

She sits in absolute silence, her face stiff, her fingers twitching. Finally, she exhales through gritted teeth.

"…I hate this show."

At their station, Heather and Duncan were actually… getting along?

Duncan was in charge of searing the salmon while Heather prepared the seasoning. She raised an eyebrow as she watched him work. "Huh. I didn't expect you to actually know what you're doing."

Duncan smirked, flipping the fish with ease. "What, you think I just survive off gas station snacks and prison food?"

Heather crossed her arms. "Wouldn't be surprised."

Duncan chuckled. "Well, I know my way around a grill. You just make sure whatever fancy seasoning you're adding doesn't ruin it."

Heather rolled her eyes but smirked. "Relax, I know what I'm doing."

For a moment, they worked in silence, which was rare for them. Usually, they'd be at each other's throats. But this? This was… almost nice.

Heather caught Duncan glancing at her. "What?" she asked.

Duncan shrugged. "Nothing. Just… guess we make a decent team."

Heather blinked, surprised for a second because he was right.. but of course she ruined the moment by quickly brushing it off. "Don't get used to it, delinquent."

Duncan grinned. "Wouldn't dream of it, princess."

Meanwhile, Dakota was having a breakdown.

"Ugh, this is so disgusting!" she whined, wiping at her hair frantically. "I swear, if I get one more thing in my hair, I'm gonna scream!"

Right on cue, Lightning, who was trying to season his and Courtney's chicken with one hand, sneezed—sending a cloud of pepper right into Dakota's perfectly styled blonde locks.

"AAAAH! NO! NO, NO, NO!" Dakota shrieked, running in circles. "THIS IS A NIGHTMARE! SOMEONE GET ME A MIRROR! I NEED A MIRROR!"

Anne Maria rolled her eyes. "Girl, you're literally wearing hair spray like it's a helmet. Chill."

Dakota gasped dramatically. "How dare you?!"

Courtney, pinching the bridge of her nose, groaned. "Can we please focus on cooking?"

Over at the Dominators' side, things weren't much better.

Lindsay and Alejandro's omelet was way too cheesy.

"I think I put too much cheese," Lindsay said, tilting the pan. The egg barely moved.

Alejandro poked at it with a spatula. "No, no, it's just… structurally strong."

Sky and Ella's soup was starting to boil over, sending them both into a panic.

"Oh no! It's bubbling too much! What do we do?!" Ella gasped, flailing her hands.

Sky quickly grabbed the ladle. "We stir, Ella! We stir!"

Shawn and Sammy's chili, on the other hand, smelled dangerous.

Scott walked by and immediately coughed. "What the heck?! Are you guys making chili or pepper spray?"

Sammy smirked. "It's got a little kick."

Shawn grinned. "Yeah, no wimps allowed."

Scott muttered, "Well, good luck not burning off your own taste buds."

Chris called out from the doorway, grinning. "Five minutes left, campers! Hope your meals are edible—but if not, well, at least I'll have a great time watching you suffer."

Everyone kicked into high gear. Plates were set, sauces were drizzled, and food was (barely) held together.

Courtney and Lightning's chicken was plated just in time, though Courtney had to pry the seasoning bottle out of Lightning's grip.

Owen proudly held up his and Noah's grilled cheese. "Boom! Perfection!"

Noah deadpanned. "It's grilled cheese, Owen."

Meanwhile, Heather and Duncan stood side by side, their salmon dish finished. They both glanced at each other.

"Not bad," Heather admitted.

Duncan smirked. "Not bad yourself."

Chris clapped his hands. "Alright, time's up! Let's see what nightmares you cooked up for me today!"

The contestants exchanged nervous glances as they prepared for whatever torture Chris had in store for the taste test. Chris clapped his hands together, flashing a mischievous grin.

Chef crossed his arms, eyeing the food suspiciously. "Let's just make sure nobody poisoned anything."

Chris smirked. "We'd have to test that, huh? Alright, first up—what do we have here?"

First up, was Courtney and Lightning's grilled chicken with herb butter.

Chris took a bite of the chicken, chewing slowly. Then, his expression shifted, his eyes narrowing. "This… isn't terrible. In fact, it's pretty good. But you did have a head start with chicken, huh? Eh.. 6/10."

Lightning grinned proudly. "Sha-booyah! Ain't nobody beatin' that chicken!"

Courtney puffed out her chest. "I told you I could handle this. You know, not everyone can make chicken this perfectly."

Chef grunted, clearly impressed. "Alright, it's good. But next time, don't get too cocky, kid. 6/10 indeed."

Next up, we're Gwen & Trent's pasta with tomato sauce — basically spaghetti.

Chris twirled some pasta around his fork. "Pasta, huh? Classic. Let's see…"

He took a bite and raised his eyebrows. "It's simple, but you can't mess up pasta. Good job, guys. 7/10."

Trent smiled, clearly pleased. "Glad you like it. No fuss, just good food."

Gwen, looking a little shy, gave Trent a small smile. "Yeah, just like we planned."

Chef nodded in approval. "I'd eat this if I were starving. But it's still pasta. 6/10."

Up next were Noah and Owen's extremely basic grilled cheese sandwich. But hey, it's comfort food so maybe it'll be a winner?

Chris picked up one of the grilled cheese sandwiches, taking a huge bite. "Now this is my kind of food."

Owen grinned. "We figured you'd like it, man."

Noah leaned in, speaking sarcastically. "Oh, I'm sure this was definitely the pinnacle of fine dining."

Chef's face softened. "Now that's comfort food. I'd hit that up any day." 8/10."

Chris nodded. "Exactly. But it's just grilled cheese. Keep it real. 7/10."

Now came Zoey and Jasmine's boring garden salad. It's gross — for people who don't enjoy salads, but it's still food right?

Chris poked at the salad with his fork, his face turning skeptical. "A salad? Really?"

Jasmine smiled brightly. "Hey, it's fresh, light, and healthy! We thought it'd be a nice change of pace."

Zoey nodded enthusiastically. "We've got a mix of greens and some extra toppings. Who doesn't love a salad?"

Chris took a bite, then looked at Chef. "Okay… wow, this is actually refreshing. Eh… 5.5/10."

Chef took a bite too and raised an eyebrow. "Huh. I actually might get on board with this. 6/10."

Leshawna & Anne Maria brought some good food to the table! They had made some tacos.

Chris looked at the tacos and raised his eyebrows. "Now this is what I'm talking about."

Leshawna grinned widely. "Tacos, baby. You can't go wrong with tacos."

Anne Maria gave a thumbs-up. "Taco life, baby! You'll thank us later."

Chris took a bite, his eyes lighting up. "Oh, yeah. Now we're cooking. 9/10."

Chef dug in too. "This is what I call good food. Solid work. 9/10."

Lindsay & Alejandro had made a basic omelette. It just looked like they fried up an egg and made it into an omelette. No spices, toppings or anything.

Chris picked up a slice of the omelette, inspecting it carefully. "Omelette… seems like a safe bet. Let's see if you guys can pull it off."

Alejandro smirked. "Of course. Anything less would be beneath me."

Lindsay twirled her hair. "I totally helped! I was all over this omelette."

Chris took a bite and paused, then nodded. "Not bad. A little plain, but it works. Food gets a 5.7/10, but the presentation of the omelette isn't great. I mean, seriously it's just an oversized scrambled egg. 2/10 on the presentation.

Chef shrugged. "He's right. The food, it's solid. But next time, add some spice. 5/10."

Sierra & Geoff, coming in with some delicious spaghetti.

Chris twirled the spaghetti around his fork and looked at Chef. "Spaghetti. You know, I can't ever go wrong with this."

Sierra grinned, clearly excited. "I put in extra effort to make it just like Mom's!"

Geoff smiled at Sierra. "Yeah, she's a pro at this. No big deal."

Chris nodded, impressed. "Yup. This is as good as it gets. 8.2/10."

Chef gave a thumbs up. "Not bad at all. 8/10."

Katie & Sadie made a cheese pizza. The presentation was amazing, it looked straight out of a pizzeria.

Chris looked at the pizza, smirking. "Pizza. Okay, now we're talking. This better be good."

Sadie bounced on her feet. "We totally nailed it! Pizza is the best thing ever."

Katie nodded. "We made sure to use all the right ingredients. It's like… love in every bite!"

Chris took a bite and his eyes lit up. "You know what? You're right. This is solid. 9.5/10!"

Chef grinned. "You girls did good. Real good. 9/10!"

Mike & Brick came through with some Stir Fry.

Chris dug into the stir fry, chewing thoughtfully. "Okay, this is interesting. You guys really went for it. Gets a 8.5/10."

Mike smiled. "Yeah, we figured we'd mix things up."

Brick nodded enthusiastically. "I worked with Mike on the seasoning, Sir! We nailed it!"

Chris looked impressed. "This is actually delicious."

Chef nodded in approval. "Well done. A real standout."

Up next.. was Dawn & Scarlett's "soufflé. Oh boy.

Chris looked at the soufflé in horror. "Uh… what is that?"

Dawn smiled peacefully. "It may have… burned. But the spirit of the dish is still intact."

Scarlett grimaced. "I swear, this was supposed to be perfect!"

Chris poked at the burnt dish and made a face. "That's not food, that's a fire hazard."

Chef grimaced. "That's going straight to the trash."

Dawn and Scarlett both sighed sadly.

Up next, was a soup made by Sky & Ella, consisting of potatoes and vegetables.

Chris eyed the soup cautiously. "Soup. Okay, this could go either way."

Sky and Ella exchanged nervous looks. "We thought we'd go with something warm and comforting," Ella said, biting her lip.

Sky smiled faintly. "It's… definitely different."

Chris took a spoonful and hummed. "It's… not bad. A little salty, but not terrible. 6.5/10."

Chef took a spoonful too. "I could eat this in a pinch. It's not bad. 6/10."

Next, were Shawn & Sammy's chilli.

Chris took a spoonful of chili, inspecting it. "Chili, huh? You can't mess this up."

Shawn gave a confident nod. "We got this. You'll love it."

Sammy smiled shyly. "We tried to make it just the right balance."

Chris took a bite, then nodded. "Yeah, this is good. Solid chili. 8/10!"

Chef grinned. "This is what I'm talking about. Good stuff. 8/10."

Next up, was Bridgette and DJ's macaroni and cheese.

Bridgette and DJ wait nervously as Chris takes a bite of their mac and cheese. He chews slowly, then grins.

"This is comfort food at its finest. Not too fancy, but it's got that warm, cheesy goodness. You can't go wrong with mac and cheese. I'm giving it a solid 8/10."

Chris then turns to Scott, who stands awkwardly next to his dish, a grilled steak and potatoes.

Chris takes a bite and grimaces slightly.

"Well, the potatoes are fine, but the steak… it's a little tough, Scott. Could've been cooked a bit better, but you know, it's not bad. I'll give it a 6/10."

Next, Chris moves on to Duncan and Heather's salmon. He picks up a piece, inspecting it with a raised eyebrow. After taking a bite, Chris puts his fork down and smiles.

"Whoa. Now this… this is what I'm talking about. Perfectly cooked, the seasoning is spot on, and it's got a great balance of flavors. Duncan, Heather, you two knocked it out of the park. 10/10."

Duncan and Heather exchange excited smiles, the tension between them from earlier in the competition now replaced with a shared victory.

Confessional: Courtney

The Underdogs

"Really? Duncan and Heather? They get a perfect score? After everything, this is who wins? I can't even. It's like they've got some magic bond or something… and I'm just here, left in the dust."

Confessional: Sammy

The Dominators

"Duncan and Heather. Man, I saw that coming from a mile away. They're literally Total Drama veterans."

"Alright, everyone, great job! That's a wrap on the tasting. But, Duncan and Heather—looks like your salmon has earned you the victory for The Underdogs! Besides, a lot of the other foods you guys made were amazing too!"

The others react, some relieved, others frustrated, as Duncan and Heather share a quiet high-five.

"The rest of you? Get ready for tonight's elimination. It's going to be a tough one. See you all at the bonfire!"

Duncan gave a small, satisfied smirk, while Heather beamed. "Knew we'd win."

"As for the worst? I think we can all agree that… Scarlett and Dawn, you're the losers today."

Scarlett buried her face in her hands, while Dawn smiled serenely, unaffected. "It was a learning experience."

Chris smirked. "Oh, it was an experience, alright."

Confessional: Scarlett

The Dominators

"Ugh. I can't believe we messed up that soufflé. It was supposed to be our shining moment. Instead, it collapsed like my hopes and dreams. But hey, at least I didn't make it worse by burning the kitchen down. I mean, that would've been… funny, right? But seriously, I knew soufflé was a risky choice. I guess we're just not cut out for these delicate dishes."

Confessional: Dawn

The Dominators

"I knew I was in trouble when I saw Scarlett's face as the soufflé started to deflate. It's… mystical, really, how things just seem to go wrong sometimes. But I know I can't blame anyone but myself. I should've been more focused… more present. I just got lost in the idea of creating something perfect. I suppose… I need to learn to let go of control sometimes."

Confessional: Duncan

The Underdogs

"Heather and I? Hah, it's just cooking. We're just two people who can make a mean meal. But there's something about this season… maybe I'm getting along with people I didn't expect to. Still, I'm not gonna let anyone think I'm getting soft. That's so not my vibe."

Confessional: Heather

The Underdogs

"Oh, please. I don't know why everyone's so shocked. Duncan and I can actually work together when we aren't at each other's throats. It was a simple win—just like I said it would be, hello?"

Confessional: Alejandro

The Dominators

"I'm really not happy about losing, especially when it feels like we were so close. Scarlett's soufflé didn't help, but I won't put all the blame on her. Still, someone has to go. We'll vote for her tonight, no questions asked. At the end of the day, it's a game, and it's about who's going to help us move forward. I'm ready to cut my losses."

Confessional: Lindsay

The Dominators

"I mean, I didn't want to lose, but now we have to vote someone off. Honestly? Scarlett's soufflé was… well, yikes. But it's not like I'm here to get rid of people who can cook well, it's just… she's gotta go if we want to keep winning."

Confessional: Sierra

The Dominators

"Scarlett's soufflé was an absolute disaster. If we're losing someone, it's gotta be her. She cost us the win—again. I like her as a person, but we're not here to make friends. We need to focus on staying strong, and if that means voting off Scarlett, then so be it."

Confessional: Scott

The Dominators

"Look, I'm all about getting ahead in the game. Scarlett definitely messed up, so I'm voting for her. If we keep her around, it's only going to get worse. This is a competition, and we need people who can help us win. I'm sticking with my vote."

Confessional: Sammy

The Dominators

"Okay, hold up—are we just gonna pretend Scarlett didn't go full-on 'Max-level evil' in Season 6 and try to take over the whole island? Why is no one talking about that? Like, seriously, I thought that was the whole reason we didn't trust her in the first place! Honestly, with that in mind AND her pathetic attempt at making a soufflé I think I know who I'm voting for."

At the ceremony, Chris stands at his usual podium, grinning widely as usual. The Dominators are gathered, looking anxious.

"Alright, alright! Gather 'round, everyone. Tonight, you're all here because… well, you lost the challenge. I'm sure you're all just dying to know who's getting the boot."

Chris stood, holding the marshmallows, his smile wide and dramatic as he surveyed the group.

"Alright. Time to see who's safe for tonight… and who's going home."

The camera zoomed in on the contestants, tension building with every second. Chris tossed the first marshmallow.

"Sierra," he called. Sierra reached out and grabbed it with a relieved sigh.

"Geoff," Chris said, tossing the marshmallow to Geoff, who caught it eagerly.

"Mike," Chris continued, tossing the next marshmallow to Mike, who gave a small nod of thanks.

"Brick," he tossed the marshmallow to Brick, who took it with a smile.

"Sky," Chris called, tossing the marshmallow to Sky, who caught it with a grin.

"Shawn," Chris called, tossing it to Shawn, who took it quickly.

"Sammy," another toss to Sammy, who caught it with a quiet nod.

"Alejandro," a toss to Alejandro, who caught it with his usual smug expression.

"Lindsay," Chris called, tossing the next marshmallow to Lindsay, who eagerly grabbed it.

"Dawn," the marshmallow flew to Dawn, who caught it while.. meditating? God this girl is so weird.

"Sadie," the marshmallow flew to Sadie, who caught it with a relieved expression.

"Ella," Chris said, tossing the marshmallow to Ella, who caught it without hesitation.

"Katie," he tossed the marshmallow to Katie, who grabbed it with a smile.

And then, only two remained: Scarlett and Scott. The tension in the air was thick. The camera cut back and forth between their faces, both showing different emotions: Scarlett's disappointment, and Scott's hopeful uncertainty.

Chris raised the final marshmallow, taking his time to build the suspense.

"And the last marshmallow of the night goes to…" Chris said, letting the silence stretch out.

He dramatically looked between the two contestants, pausing for several seconds to build up the tension.

"Scott," he finally said, tossing Scott the final marshmallow.

Scott let out a breath, catching it with a grateful smile.

"Scarlett," Chris said, his tone softening just a little. "You're finished, buddy."

Scarlett adjusts her glasses, glancing up with an almost amused expression. "Oh, please. This is absurd. I'm the one who actually contributed something of value to this team. What did Scott do—sit there, looking pretty?"

Scott glares at her, clearly not amused. "Excuse me? Are you serious right now? I wasn't the one trying to sabotage our entire team with a OVER-baked soufflé. We couldn't even get that thing out of the oven without it burning to a crisp!"

Scarlett raises an eyebrow, leaning back. "I fail to see how my dish was the reason we lost. Perhaps, if the rest of you weren't so busy fawning over Heather and Duncan's salmon, we wouldn't be in this situation. But of course, you're all too busy blaming me for everything."

Scott shakes his head, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah, I'm sure that's exactly what happened. It's not like your terrible soufflé was an issue at all. But hey, go ahead and blame Duncan and Heather for winning. It's all their fault, right?"

Scarlett's eyes narrow, and she stands up straighter, adjusting her glasses again. "Don't be so naive. It's not just their win—it's your incompetence, your lack of awareness. We needed strategy, not—" She gestures vaguely at the group. "—this."

Katie sighs, rubbing her temples. "Okay, can we not? This is exactly why we keep losing. Everyone's too busy pointing fingers instead of just, you know, working together."

Sammy crosses her arms, clearly irritated. "Right, because Scarlett's idea of teamwork is throwing us under the bus. Again."

Scarlett raises an eyebrow, her tone icy. "I'm just being realistic. If you all had listened to me from the start, maybe things would have gone differently."

Shawn shakes his head. "You've been talking a big game this whole time, but here we are—about to lose someone because of your overconfidence. Maybe you should've listened to the team instead."

Chris steps forward, clearly loving the chaos unfolding. "Ooh, this is spicy. And had this NOT been a reward challenge, Scarlett would have been sent packin'!"

He chuckles, eyes gleaming with mischief as the group remains tense. "But, lucky for her, it's all about the prizes tonight. So, while you all may be at each other's throats, Scarlett lives to see another day."

The camera cuts between the contestants, most of them still processing the turn of events. Chris enjoys the silence for a moment before breaking it again with his trademark grin.

"Hey, no need to thank me! But let this be a lesson—blame each other all you want, but it's all about the team when it comes down to it. Enjoy the night, Dominators. The real competition starts tomorrow. Who knows, maybe Scarlett will cook up something worth staying for next time…"

With a final smirk, he spins on his heel and heads off, leaving the contestants to stew in the tension as they try to figure out their next moves. Scarlett, visibly annoyed, sits back down, shooting a few glares toward her teammates.

The camera zooms in on the team, showing mixed reactions—some relieved, others uneasy. It's clear that the Dominators are still far from unified, and the drama is far from over. As the team disperses, Scarlett stands still for a moment, her eyes narrowed and focused. The others chatter around her, some relieved, others still confused by the tension in the air. But Scarlett? She's not smiling. In fact, she looks downright dangerous. Her fingers clench into fists at her sides, and her jaw tightens as she watches her teammates with a cold, calculating glare. The camera zooms in on her face, capturing the intensity of her expression. It's clear—Scarlett's not here to play nice. She's pissed, and she's not just going to let this slide.

Confessional: Scarlett

The Dominators

"Really? They're all just gonna forget how close they were to sending me home? How convenient for them… They think I'm just gonna sit here and take this? No. I'm not going down without making them regret it. I may have survived today, but mark my words: I'm not done yet. I always have a backup plan. Always."

She pauses for a moment, a sly, knowing smile curling at the corner of her lips. "And I'll make sure they all know it soon enough."

The scene cuts to with a serene view of the lake, the soft ripples reflecting the bright sun. Heather and Duncan sit on a picnic blanket, the reward food spread out between them. The laughter of other contestants is distant, but here, it's just the two of them, enjoying the peace.

Duncan leans back on his hands, glancing out at the water. "Man, this place isn't so bad when it's quiet like this."

Heather raises an eyebrow, a small, amused smirk on her face. "Didn't think you'd be the type to appreciate peace and quiet."

He shrugs, a slight grin forming. "Guess I've got layers, princess. Not all about chaos."

She chuckles, taking a bite of her food, eyes flickering to him for a second longer than usual. "I never said you were all chaos. Just most of the time."

"Fair enough," Duncan says with a smirk, nudging her playfully. "I guess we make a good team after all."

Heather's lips curl into a real smile, something warm in her eyes. "Maybe. You're not as terrible as I thought you'd be, either."

He gives her a teasing look. "What, you thought I'd be a walking disaster?"

"Something like that," she responds, her tone light but with an edge of fondness.

The conversation slows as they sit in comfortable silence for a moment, just enjoying the company.

Duncan glances at her, his tone casual. "You know, I wasn't expecting this—us, I mean. I figured you'd be off, doing your own thing, keeping the distance."

Heather looks back at him, her eyes softening as she speaks. "It's nice… not having to keep up the constant act for once. You're not exactly who I thought you were either."

Duncan chuckles. "Maybe we're not who we thought we were either."

Heather tilts her head, thinking. "Maybe."

The mood shifts, and they sit in a comfortable quiet, the only sounds the rustling of the trees and the distant hum of the other contestants. It's an unexpected connection—simple but real, something neither of them anticipated.

After a long pause, Duncan breaks the silence, his smirk returning. "So, you think we can keep this whole 'teamwork' thing going, or is this just a one-time thing?"

Heather grins back at him, eyes glinting mischievously. "We'll see. But you owe me one now."

He laughs, nudging her again. "Deal. But I'll make you work for it."

Their playful banter continues, the bond between them now clearer than before, both of them enjoying the rare moment of peace, knowing full well it might not last. But for now, it's enough.

The camera fades as Chris steps back into view, his signature grin spreading across his face as he addresses the camera.

"Well, well, well, looks like things are about to get real interesting! Who will make the next big move, and who will just keep getting caught up in the chaos? Will Scarlett's revenge be as sweet as she thinks, or will it blow up in her face? And what about the rest of these drama-filled contestants?"

He chuckles, pacing in front of the camera with exaggerated flair.

"Who will rise? And who will fall? All that and more, next time on Total… Drama… Generational Warfare!"

Chapter Text

Episode 5: "Check In or Check Out?"

"Last time on Total Drama: Generational Warfare!"

Cut to contestants in the chaotic kitchen, struggling to even set up their cooking stations.

"Things got real messy last time, folks! The teams had to cook a meal for Chef and me—but not in any normal kitchen. Oh no, this was a disaster zone that made even Chef gag!" Chris chuckles as the camera cuts to scenes of the filthy kitchen with overstuffed trash cans, dirty counters, and moldy food.

"The conditions? Beyond terrible! The kitchen looked like a crime scene! Plates everywhere, food on the floor, and don't even get me started on the smell!" Chris laughs, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "It was like a rotten reality show nightmare!"

Cut to a contestant frantically searching for a pot, another covered in flour, and the others slipping on spilled oil.

"Let's just say, these contestants learned real quick that cooking isn't as easy as it looks—especially when you've got rats sneaking around your feet!" Chris cackles. "And while some contestants just about gave up, others decided to take matters into their own hands… and ruined the kitchen even more."

Cut to Scarlett having a meltdown, her soufflé crumbling in the oven, and Lindsay and Alejandro's extremely cheesy omelette.

"Looks like the Courtney, Gwen and Duncan love triangle might still be alive after all.." Chris says as he chuckles. "It seems like Duncan however, might be finding a 3rd girl to kiss, seeing as him and Heather were the power duo of the entire challenge."

Cut to Duncan and Heather, working seamlessly together and serving their dish with ease, and cracking jokes and laughing with each other.

"They were even sitting by the river, eating together! Talk about weird?"

Cut to Duncan and Heather sitting at the river and casually chatting, enjoying their rewards.

"Plus, they actually managed to make the dish that won it all for their team. Weird, huh? But these two managed to avoid disaster… leaving The Dominators to sweat it out!"

Cut to Chris holding up the final marshmallow, suspense building.

"In the end, Scarlett was the one who was supposed to be eliminated, but thankfully, it was a reward challenge, and so, she got to see yet another challenge. And the drama that followed after the revelation.. man it was gold!"

The camera cuts back to Scott and Scarlett arguing at the bonfire ceremony, then to Chris as he leans in, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

"So, what's next for The Dominators? Will their losing streak continue, or will they get their heads back in the game? Will Scarlett get that revenge she promised on her team? And will the growing dynamic between Duncan and Heather grow even more, causing further jealousy among Courtney and Gwen? Find out right now on Total…Drama…Generational Warfare!"

The camera zooms out as Chris throws his head back, ready for the next episode of drama.

(Cue the TDGW Intro)

The scene opens in the dimly lit cabin where the Dominators are gathered, laughing, talking over each other, and making noise. The camera pans to Scarlett, who is tossing and turning in her bed, clearly annoyed by the racket. She pulls the pillow over her head, but the noise doesn't stop.

With a frustrated sigh, Scarlett sits up in bed, her eyes narrowing. "Could you all keep it down?" she snaps, voice sharp and cold.

The room falls silent for a split second before Lindsay, oblivious as usual, giggles. "What's the big deal, Scarlett? It's just a little fun!" She laughs again, nudging Sammy beside her.

"No, it's not fun," Scarlett growls, her eyes flashing with irritation. "Some of us are trying to sleep. It's bad enough I have to deal with all of you talking behind my back, but now you're keeping me up?"

Sadie chuckles nervously. "Oh, come on, Scarlett, don't be such a downer."

But Scarlett's not having it. "A downer?" she repeats, standing up now, her eyes narrowed with simmering fury. "You think I'm the downer after everything I just survived? You all are the ones who almost sent me home! How about you think about that?"

"I'm not interested in your mood-lifting nonsense, or whatever's going on here. You want to have fun? Great. But not at my expense."

A long, awkward silence fills the room. The others exchange uncertain glances, clearly trying to figure out how to handle the situation.

"I think you need to get over yourself, Scarlett," says Scott, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. "It's just a game. Don't take everything so personally. You're still here, right?"

"Don't talk to me about the game, Scott," Scarlett snaps, her voice dripping with venom. "You don't know what it's like to be in my shoes. Everyone underestimates me, thinking I'll just roll over and let them walk all over me. Well, guess what? I'm not going anywhere. Not yet."

"Okay, okay! We get it, Scarlett," Alejandro says, trying to calm things down. "But seriously, we're all on the same team here. No need to—"

Scarlett rounds on her. "Same team? If I'm being honest, I don't even know if I'm on your team anymore, Alejandro. After last time, I'm not sure any of you can be trusted."

There's a tense moment as everyone's eyes shift from Scarlett to each other, and then back to her. It's clear Scarlett's words have stung, and the air in the room is thick with unease.

Scarlett gives them all one last glare before walking toward the door. "I'm going outside to get some fresh air. Don't bother me."

The camera follows her as she exits the cabin, the argument still echoing in the background. The other Dominators remain quiet for a moment, not sure how to react to Scarlett's outburst.

The tension in the room is palpable. This isn't over—not by a long shot.

Confessional: Brick

The Dominators

The camera cuts to Brick, who is sitting with his arms crossed and his brow furrowed in frustration.

"I don't know what's going on with her. We're a team, we're supposed to have each other's backs, but she's just pushing everyone away. I've had my share of disagreements before, but this? This feels like something more. And if she keeps going like this… it's gonna make it hard for us to work as a team. And we want to win this."

Confessional: Katie & Sadie

The Dominators

The camera switches to Katie and Sadie sitting next to each other, both wearing wide-eyed expressions.

"Okay so like, Scarlett? She's totally cracked. I mean, we were all just talking about random stuff — we were BONDING, and then—boom—she just goes off!" Katie's hands make a sudden motion, her tone high-pitched with confusion. "Like, seriously?! What was that even about? It was so… unexpected!"

Sadie nods vigorously, eyes darting back and forth as if searching for the right words. "Yeah, she was all like, 'You all don't get it!' and, like, yelling at everyone for… I don't even know what?! I mean, we were all just trying to chill, and she was, like, trying to start World War III! And it wasn't even like we were picking on her!"

Katie looks around, speaking more quietly now. "We weren't, right?!"

Confessional: Sammy

The Dominators

"There is absolutely NO world where that crashout was even remotely close to necessary." Sammy says in a deadpan type voice.

"Soooo.. anyone gonna follow her?" Mike says, trying to fix the sudden silence in the cabin.

"No- I mean, it's clear she wants to be alone. We're not gonna kiss her ass and give her attention. Let her sulk by herself." Sky says.

"Seriously. Dude needs to chill out." Geoff agrees, as they go back to talking.

Meanwhile, at The Underdogs, Heather and Duncan are seen chatting it up again, 1000x more than they were during the cooking challenge..they were sitting at the couch excitedly talking about some movie.

The camera cuts to Heather and Duncan sitting on the couch, looking completely at ease as they enthusiastically talk to each other. The tension from the kitchen challenge is long gone, replaced by their casual, carefree energy. Duncan is leaning back, legs stretched out, while Heather sits with her knees pulled up, both clearly engrossed in the conversation.

"Dude, Heath Ledger totally crushed it. You can't top that kind of performance. But, like, I'm all about the action scenes too, you know?" Duncan said, excitedly as they recap the movie night.

"Oh, for sure! The chase scene with the Batpod? I could watch that a million times. It's the perfect blend of action and, like, raw chaos." Heather smirks playfully at Duncan. "It's kinda like you."

Duncan grins back. "Hey, I'll take that as a compliment."

Heather rolls her eyes, but there's a soft smile tugging at her lips. "I didn't say you were a good kind of chaos, but yeah, it's a compliment."

Duncan laughs. "You're a tough critic. But I get it. I don't always make it easy on people. But… what about you? You'd probably be, like, some sort of supervillain, wouldn't you?"

Heather raises an eyebrow. "Me? A villain? Please, I'd be the mastermind, pulling all the strings from the shadows. Villains are overrated, Duncan. I'm more about strategy."

"Oh, I'm buying that. You'd be the one calling the shots while everyone else is busy being distracted by the explosions." Duncan leans closer with a mischievous grin. "You'd probably even get me to do your dirty work, huh?"

Heather smirks, glancing at him sideways. "Maybe. You'd make a good henchman. But don't get any ideas—you're not off the hook yet."

Duncan laughs. "Oh, I see how it is. Always keeping me on my toes."

They both chuckle, and the moment feels easy, like a pair of old friends who've just hit a comfortable rhythm. The camera lingers for a moment on their relaxed expressions before zooming out.

"So, when do we watch the next one? I need to make sure you're caught up on all the classics." Heather asked.

Duncan: "Next movie night, huh? I'll bring the snacks."

"And I'll bring the attitude." She winks at him, her tone teasing.

"Okay, when did you two masterminds get so buddy buddy with each other? This is weird," Noah says, walking up to the two.

Confessional: Heather

The Underdogs

Heather crosses her arms, tilting her head slightly as if she's trying to make sense of her own thoughts.

"When did this happen?" she says, furrowing her brows. "One minute, we're stuck cooking together, and I'm convinced he's going to burn the entire kitchen down. The next, we're actually enjoying our victory by the lake. And now… we're watching movies together?" She pauses, exhaling in mild disbelief.

Her expression softens, and she glances to the side for a moment before continuing. "I mean, it's not awful or anything. Duncan's actually… kind of easy to talk to. He gets my sarcasm, he doesn't take things too seriously, and—ugh, I hate saying this—but he's fun." She shakes her head, as if trying to dismiss the thought.

"But don't get me wrong, this doesn't change anything. I'm still playing to win, and if Duncan thinks this makes us friends or whatever, he's got another thing coming." She smirks slightly. "Though, for now… I guess I don't mind having him around."

Heather rolls her eyes at Noah. "Oh, please. Just because we're not at each other's throats doesn't mean we're getting 'buddy-buddy.'"

Duncan smirks. "Yeah, man. Can't two evil masterminds appreciate a good movie without an interrogation?"

Leshawna jumps in. "Not when you guys are literally the two biggest criminals in Total Drama history. Something's up."

Noah crosses his arms. "Yeah. Feels like I walked into the Twilight Zone. You two are getting along, Dakota's freaking out over her hair in the mirror, and Owen just tried to convince DJ to let him ride on his shoulders like a battle mech."

Heather and Duncan glance at each other before chuckling. "Okay, that last one I have to see," Duncan says, standing up.

Noah and Leshawna glance at each other with the same expression. Heather and Duncan looking at each other and laughing? What is going on?

Cut to the rest of The Underdogs scattered across camp. Dakota is looking in the mirror, furiously examining her reflection.

"It's still frizzy! I don't do frizz!" she whines, tugging at her blonde strands.

Owen, meanwhile, is grinning from ear to ear as he attempts to balance on DJ's shoulders. "C'mon, big guy! Just think about it—together, we're an unstoppable force!"

DJ sighs, struggling to keep Owen steady. "Owen, I don't think this is a good—whoa!"

They both go toppling over, crashing into the ground.

Bridgette and Zoey, sitting nearby, wince. "That looked painful," Zoey mutters.

Before anyone can react further, Chris' voice suddenly blares through the loudspeakers.

"Goooood Morning Campers! Meet me at the dock in five minutes! And wear something warm—you might be needing it for today's..challenge!"

Everyone exchanges confused glances before scrambling to their feet.

The contestants gather at the dock, some rubbing their arms as a chilly breeze blows past. A large boat waits for them, manned by a completely silent driver in an old captain's uniform. Chris stands at the front, looking as smug as ever.

"Alright, kiddies! Hope you all got some rest, because tonight's challenge is gonna be KILLER!"

Great," Gwen mutters, already unimpressed. "That usually means we're about to be tortured."

Chris grins. "Tortured? Me? Nooo," he says, dragging out the word before clapping his hands together. "Tonight's challenge is called The Haunted Hotel!"

"The rules are simple: you'll be spending one terrifying night in an extremely haunted hotel! Your goal? Survive until morning. If any of you chicken out and leave the building before sunrise? Boom—you're out. The team with the most players still inside by morning wins immunity! I sure hope you guys don't encounter any ghosts.."

Lightning scoffs. "Pfft, ghosts? Nothing's gonna scare the Lightning!"

"Yeah, yeah, we'll see about that," Chris says, grinning. "Now, everybody on the boat! Next stop—your worst nightmares!"

The contestants reluctantly board the boat, some more eager than others. As they sail away from camp, the ominous outline of an old, decrepit hotel begins to emerge through the thickening fog.

Heather crosses her arms. "Why do I have a really bad feeling about this?"

Duncan smirks. "Because you're smart."

As they get closer, the hotel looms over them—a massive, gothic structure with cracked windows, flickering lights, and an eerie, unnatural silence surrounding it.

Chris spreads his arms out dramatically. "Welcome… to Hotel Paranoia!"

Noah raises an eyebrow. "Are you even allowed to do this? This place looks like a lawsuit waiting to happen."

Chris smirks. "With 32 signed contracts legally handing your lives over to me for an entire summer? Oh yeah, I definitely am."

The contestants exchange uneasy glances as the boat slows to a stop at the dock. The silent captain gestures for them to step off, his blank expression doing nothing to ease their nerves.

Chris hops onto the dock and turns to face them. "Hope you all enjoy the luxury experience—this place has everything! Restless spirits, mysterious noises, maybe even a vengeful poltergeist or two!" He grins and winks.

As if on cue, a powerful gust of wind howls through the air, causing the towering hotel doors to groan and creak open on their own.

"AHHHHHH! WHAT WAS THAT, WAS IT A GHOST?" Lindsay yells, already scared and not even being in the hotel yet.

"Lindsay, it's just wind. There are no ghosts." Dawn says, seemingly in a sarcastic manner.

"Oh! Phew.." Lindsay replies, wiping 'sweat' off of her face.

Chris grins. "Alright, campers—time to check in!"

"Have fun in there! Try not to scream too loud—I'd hate to disturb the spirits."

Before anyone can protest, he hops back onto the boat, signaling the silent captain to take off. The engine rumbles to life, and within moments, Chris is disappearing into the thick fog, leaving all 30 contestants standing at the entrance of the looming hotel.

The eerie silence settles in immediately. No crickets. No wind. Just the quiet creaking of the old building as if it were breathing.

A flickering lightbulb above the door buzzes ominously.

"So… that's it? He just dumps us here?" Gwen mutters, arms crossed. "Classic."

"Well, what do we do now?" Zoey asks, glancing at the others.

DJ shifts uncomfortably. "…We don't even know our way around," he says hesitantly. "How are we supposed to survive in here if we don't know where anything is?"

The group falls silent, realizing he has a point. The hotel is massive, with at least nine floors towering over them, and who knows how many twisting hallways inside?

Lightning cracks across the sky, illuminating the building for a brief second before plunging it back into darkness.

Duncan exhales sharply. "Awesome. We're stuck in a horror movie."

Heather sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Great. And knowing Chris, there are probably actual death traps in there."

The contestants exchange wary glances, the weight of the challenge sinking in.

The heavy wooden doors of Hotel Paranoia remain wide open, as if waiting for them to step inside.

Dakota sheepishly chuckles, taking a small step back. "So, uh… who's going in first?"

The group falls into silence, exchanging hesitant glances. No one seems particularly eager to take the lead. The flickering light in the lobby casts eerie shadows along the peeling wallpaper and dusty furniture. The air inside is thick, stale, and carries the faint scent of something long abandoned.

"Not it," Noah says immediately, crossing his arms.

"Not it!" Owen echoes.

"Not it," Gwen adds without hesitation.

A chain reaction follows as multiple contestants quickly blurt out, "Not it!" until only a few remain.

Dakota blinks. "Wait—hey! I was asking, not volunteering!"

Duncan smirks and nudges Heather. "C'mon, fearless leader. You were so eager to walk up to the doors."

Heather rolls her eyes but refuses to let herself look afraid. "Fine. But if I get attacked by some cursed hotel butler, I'm haunting all of you."

With an exaggerated sigh, she steps inside slowly. The dim lighting barely reveals the massive, dust-covered lobby ahead. A grand, yet decaying, chandelier hangs above them, swaying slightly as if moved by an unseen force.

The rest of the contestants slowly shuffle in behind her, sticking close together despite trying to act unbothered.

A sudden thud echoes from upstairs. Several people freeze.

"…Please tell me that was just the house settling," Zoey whispers.

Shawn grips his head. "Nope. Nope. That's how it starts! First, weird noises—next thing you know, we're getting picked off one by one!"

Lightning flashes outside the large, grimy windows, illuminating the room for a split second. As the light fades, a tall, dust-covered figure in a bellhop uniform suddenly appears behind the front desk.

Several contestants scream. The group stumbles back in pure panic, some grabbing onto each other for support.

"WHAT IS THAT?!" Lindsay shrieks, clinging to Sadie.

"It's a ghost! I KNEW IT!" Shawn yells, immediately ducking behind Brick for cover.

"Everybody stay calm!" Brick orders, though his own voice wavers slightly.

The figure behind the desk remains motionless, shrouded in darkness. Dust clings to its tattered uniform, and its hollow eyes seem to stare right through them. The air in the room feels even colder.

Then—

CREEEAAAK.

The bellhop's arm suddenly jerks up, slow and stiff, as it points toward an old guest book on the counter. A deep, raspy voice breaks the silence:

"Sign… in."

Sierra lets out a high-pitched squeal, clinging onto Cody—only to realize Cody isn't even there. She's just squeezing the air.

Confessional: Sierra

The Dominators

"I've been doing pretty well at staying focused and not getting distracted by thoughts of Cody. But times like this? They make me miss him so much. Why didn't he come back this season? We've got people here we never expected to return—Katie, Sadie, DJ—but no Cody?!"

"I-I don't think that's a real ghost…" Sky stammers, though she doesn't sound entirely convinced.

Duncan narrows his eyes, stepping slightly closer despite the tense atmosphere. "Hold up… I think this dude's just a—"

Suddenly, the bellhop lunges forward.

The entire group SCREAMS, scrambling away from the desk as chaos erupts. DJ nearly bowls over Trent in his attempt to flee. Dakota practically leaps into Jasmine's arms. Leshawna grabs Lightning by the arm and uses him as a human shield.

But instead of attacking… the figure's head falls off. The silence that follows is almost comical. The contestants blink in confusion as the head rolls across the floor, revealing..a metal rod sticking out of its neck.

"…Wait a minute." Duncan cautiously steps closer and nudges the body with his foot. It wobbles slightly. He then crouches and picks up the head, turning it over in his hands.

It's not a real head. It's a mannequin.

Heather's eyes widen in realization. "It's a freaking animatronic."

The tension in the room shifts instantly.

"You mean we just screamed our heads off over a stupid robot?" Courtney snaps, glaring at the animatronic.

Noah sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Of course. Classic Chris."

Shawn, still gripping onto Brick's arm for dear life, exhales in relief. "Okay. Okay. So we're not immediately dying. That's good."

Zoey shakes her head, both annoyed and impressed. "So that's part of the challenge, huh? He's got this place rigged to scare us."

"Guess that means we just debunked our first 'haunting,'" Dawn muses, eyeing the mannequin with interest.

"Wait, we shouldn't all be working together—we're on teams!" Bridgette points out.

A beat of silence follows as everyone processes her words. Then, as if on cue, the two teams suddenly spring into action.

"Alright, Underdogs, we're heading this way!" Bridgette declares, motioning toward a long, dimly lit hallway leading to the south wing.

"Dominators, move out!" Brick calls, leading his team toward the west wing.

Within seconds, the large group splits in two, their hurried footsteps echoing through the vast, decrepit hotel as they disappear into their respective paths. The challenge has officially begun.

The Dominators move cautiously down the west wing, their footsteps muffled by the dust-covered carpet. The hallway is dimly lit, flickering sconces casting eerie shadows along the cracked wallpaper. Every creak of the floorboards makes someone jump.

"I don't like this," Sadie whimpers, clutching Katie's arm. "I really don't like this."

"Me neither," Ella whispers, scanning the corridor nervously. "The energy here is… unsettling."

"Pfft, please." Scott rolls his eyes. "It's just some stupid haunted house nonsense. Chris is probably laughing his butt off watching us freak out."

"Right," Lindsay nods. "It's, like, totally fake. Just like that mannequin thingy."

"Then why do I feel like something's watching us?" Dawn murmurs, eyes darting to the shadows.

A sudden BANG echoes through the hallway.

"GAH!" Shawn yelps, practically vaulting behind Brick. "IT'S STARTING! WE'RE GONNA GET PICKED OFF ONE BY ONE—"

"Relax," Brick says, though his stance is tense. "It was probably just… the wind?" He doesn't sound convinced.

Sky frowns. "There is no wind in here."

A slow creaking noise comes from the end of the hall.

The group instinctively tightens together as the door at the very end—its wooden frame rotted and splintered—groans open on its own. Darkness gapes beyond it like an open maw.

"…Dudes, I really don't wanna go in there," Geoff mutters.

Scott crosses his arms. "Well, we have to. We're not gonna win by standing around like a bunch of scaredy-cats." He strides toward the door without hesitation.

"Scott, wait—" Dawn begins, but it's too late.

The second Scott steps through the doorway, the floor beneath him gives out.

With a loud CRASH, Scott vanishes through the rotten boards.

"SCOTT!" Sky rushes forward, peering into the hole. Dust swirls in the air, making it hard to see, but a groaning voice drifts up from the darkness.

"I hate this challenge."

Scott is alive. Just… not very happy about it.

"We need to get him out," Brick says.

As the group scrambles to find a way to help Scott, an eerie noise rises from somewhere deeper in the hotel—a soft, rhythmic creaking, almost like footsteps.

But there's no one else in sight.

Confessional: Sky

The Dominators

"Is Chris even trying anymore? This challenge feels so rushed, like he threw it together at the last minute. Where are we even supposed to sleep? We don't know our way around this place… None of it makes sense."

Meanwhile, the Underdogs weave their way through the east wing, the air thick with dust and the scent of old wood. Bridgette leads the way, holding up a flashlight she snagged from the lobby.

"I can't believe we fell for that mannequin trick," Courtney mutters.

"Seriously," Leshawna scoffs. "Chris got us good, but we ain't gonna be fooled again."

"Speak for yourself," Dakota grumbles. "This place is giving me all the bad vibes."

"Aw, c'mon, Dakota," Duncan says with a smirk. "Where's that thrill-seeker spirit?"

Dakota crosses her arms. "I like controlled thrills, like roller coasters and red carpet drama. Not dusty death-trap hotels."

Owen, who has been oddly quiet, suddenly stiffens. "Uh, guys?"

"What?" Heather asks, exasperated.

Owen gulps, pointing ahead. "I think… something's moving over there."

The group follows his gaze to a partially open doorway. A shadow shifts just beyond it.

"W-We should go the other way," Anne Maria stammers.

"Or," Duncan grins, cracking his knuckles, "we check it out."

Heather rolls her eyes. "Of course you'd say that."

Still, curiosity outweighs hesitation, and the group inches forward. Duncan pushes the door open the rest of the way.

The room beyond is a once-lavish sitting area, now overtaken by decay. Furniture is covered in white sheets, cobwebs hanging from the chandelier. A cracked mirror leans against the far wall.

Nothing seems out of place… except— a chair in the corner rocks back and forth on its own. No wind. No strings. Just… moving.

The team collectively freezes.

"…Nope," Lightning says, turning on his heel. "I'm out."

Before anyone can react further, the rocking chair suddenly slams to a stop. And then.. the sheets covering the furniture begin to rise. As if something—or someone—is beneath them.

Screams erupt as the group stumbles backward.

Heather grabs Duncan's arm on instinct. "Tell me this is Chris messing with us."

Courtney and Gwen's eyes widen, watching Heather grab onto Duncan like that.

Confessional: Courtney

The Underdogs

"It doesn't bother me, it doesn't bother me, it doesn't bother me… Ugh. I don't know why I'm even thinking about it. Who cares if Heather's all over Duncan? It's not like it means anything. I don't even like him like that anymore. Right? Ugh…"

Confessional: Gwen

The Underdogs

"Okay, so Heather's practically attached to Duncan now, and I really don't know what's going on there. It's a little… much. But then again, there's something about seeing her cling to him that makes me feel… I don't know. Maybe it's jealousy? Or maybe it's just seeing the way she really feels about him that's making me second-guess everything. I thought I had all this figured out, but now? It's like there's no way to avoid it anymore… the triangle's real. And I thought it was over a LONG time ago."

The sheets drop. Nothing is there. The Underdogs exchange wide-eyed looks.

Still shaken from the eerie encounter in the sitting room, the Underdogs move cautiously through the hotel's dimly lit corridors.

"Okay, so… are we just supposed to pick random rooms and hope they're not, I don't know, cursed?" Zoey asks, hugging herself.

"Considering Chris is running this, I wouldn't rule it out," Noah mutters.

DJ shudders. "Man, I really don't like this place."

"You and me both," Trent agrees, glancing at the peeling wallpaper. "It's like something straight out of a horror movie."

Heather, still gripping Duncan's arm from earlier, releases him abruptly and clears her throat. "Well, standing around isn't getting us anywhere. Let's find some rooms."

The hallway stretches ahead of them, lined with rooms on either side. Some are marked with room numbers, others have doors missing entirely. A musty, stagnant scent lingers in the air.

"Dibs on the least haunted one," Dakota says quickly.

"Yeah, good luck with that," Gwen says, peering at a cracked room number barely hanging onto the door. "Pretty sure every inch of this place is a bad idea."

Bridgette pushes open the nearest door, revealing a dusty suite with a tattered canopy bed and a fireplace coated in soot. "Looks like the rooms are actually kinda nice… if you ignore the whole 'abandoned for decades' thing."

Lightning peeks into another room, only to immediately slam the door shut. "Yeah, nope. That bed had way too many lumps in it. I ain't sleeping on some ghost bumps!"

"…Ghost bumps?" Leshawna repeats, unimpressed.

Lightning crosses his arms. "Y'all can make fun all you want, but I felt something in there, and I don't mess with that."

"Okay, let's just claim some rooms before we psych ourselves out," Bridgette suggests. "We should probably bunk up too. Safety in numbers, right?"

"I call rooming with uh..I guess- Jasmine!" Anne Maria announces, already dragging her inside the nearest suite.

DJ nervously glances at Trent. "Uh… you cool with sharing?"

"Yeah, man, I'm good," Trent nods. "Just, uh… if we hear any weird noises, we agree to ignore them, right?"

DJ grimaces. "Oh, for sure."

Noah leans against the wall, eyeing the remaining doors. "Guess that just leaves me with—"

Suddenly, a soft creak echoes down the hall. The group collectively stills.

"…What was that?" Dakota whispers.

Another creak. This time, it's closer.

The floorboards groan under an unseen weight.

And then—

A door at the very end of the hallway slowly swings open. The Underdogs freeze.

A gust of cold air rushes from the darkened room, carrying with it a faint, whispering sound.

Gwen's breath catches in her throat. "…Okay. Nope. Nope, nope, nope."

"Yeah, we're not going in there," Courtney says quickly.

Duncan, however, smirks. "Oh, come on. What if it's just a draft?"

"Then you go check it out," Heather challenges.

Duncan shrugs. "Fine."

He steps forward, the floor creaking beneath his sneakers. The others hold their breath as he nears the open doorway…

And then—

BANG!

The door slams shut right in his face.

Duncan stumbles back. "Okay, that wasn't a draft."

Screams erupt as the entire team scrambles toward their rooms, slamming their doors shut behind them.

The hallway falls into silence. And somewhere, deep within the hotel… something chuckles.

Meanwhile, The Dominators, who are shaken from Scott's unexpected drop through the floor, the Dominators cautiously navigate the west wing of the hotel, their nerves on edge.

"So… does anyone have any clue where we're actually supposed to sleep?" Geoff asks, glancing down the long corridor.

"I don't even know where we are anymore," Sammy mutters, hugging her arms. "This place is like a maze."

"I don't think Chris even planned for us to sleep," Sky grumbles. "This whole thing feels thrown together at the last minute."

"Well, we're not wandering around all night," Brick says firmly. "Let's find some rooms, regroup, and—"

Before he can finish, a loud thud comes from just ahead. The team freezes.

"What was that?" Ella whispers.

They step cautiously toward the source—a set of double doors at the end of the hallway, slightly ajar. A dusty, rusted plaque above them reads "Grand Suites."

"I guess this is where we're staying," Brick says.

Scott, still covered in dust from his earlier fall, scoffs. "Yeah, great. Let's just waltz into the creepy murder suites like nothing's wrong."

Ignoring him, Brick pushes open the doors, revealing a dimly lit hall with several numbered rooms on each side. Faded, floral wallpaper peels at the edges, and the air smells stale.

"Well, it's not awful," Lindsay says optimistically.

Scarlett gestures to a giant water stain on the floor. "Sure. If you ignore the fact that it looks like someone got dragged across the floor in here."

"Stop freaking yourself out," Sky says, stepping ahead. "Let's just pick rooms a—"

A door at the far end of the hallway slams shut. The group jumps.

"Okay, who did that?" Brick demands, turning sharply.

No one answers. The silence lingers. Then… a new sound emerges. A faint, scratching noise, coming from inside the walls.

"…Nope," Sadie squeaks. "Nope, nope, NOPE!"

"Stay calm," Brick says, though his grip tightens on his flashlight.

Sky steps closer to the nearest door, Room 206, and cautiously turns the handle. It creaks open, revealing a suite with dust-covered furniture, a massive four-poster bed, and a cracked mirror facing the doorway.

"Okay, this one's good enough," Sky says.

"I'm not sleeping alone," Katie blurts. "No way."

Sadie nods frantically. "We're so bunking together."

One by one, the team hesitantly begins choosing rooms, still unnerved but eager to settle in.

Just as they're about to close their doors for the night… Dawn stops. She stares down the hall, eyes narrowing.

"…What is it?" Geoff asks.

Dawn doesn't answer immediately. Instead, she takes a slow breath, as if absorbing the energy around her. Then, she speaks.

"This hotel… it is haunted."

A heavy silence falls over the group.

Shawn lets out a strangled noise. "W-What?!"

Dawn turns to them, her expression unreadable. "I can feel it. The energy here is… wrong. It's more than Chris messing with us."

Scott groans. "Oh, come on. Not this again."

"Dawn, are you sure?" Sky asks hesitantly.

Dawn nods, her gaze flickering toward the cracked mirror in Sky's room. "I don't think we're alone here."

As if on cue, a faint whisper echoes down the hall. A breathy, unintelligible murmur.

The group collectively stiffens.

And then— the lights flicker. One by one, the bulbs burst. Darkness swallows the hallway. Screams erupt as chaos breaks loose.

Confessional: Chris

The Host

Chris is practically crying with laughter, wiping a fake tear from his eye.

"Oh, man! This is too good! You'd think these guys have never seen a horror movie before. The way they screamed at that slamming door? Chef's kiss." He smirks, leaning back. "And the best part? We haven't even gotten to the real scares yet."

He grins wickedly.

"Ohhh, this is gonna be so much fun."

The distant screams and shattering lightbulbs from The Dominators' side had The Underdogs shifting uneasily.

Then, their own lights began flickering.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

One by one, the bulbs burst, plunging the hallway into darkness. A few panicked yelps rang out before everyone scrambled, instinctively grabbing the nearest teammate for safety.

Bridgette practically dragged Zoey into a room. Owen and Noah darted into another, while Leshawna pulled Dakota along. Jasmine shoved Trent and DJ into a doorway before following them in. Lightning didn't even wait—he just barged into a random room and slammed the door shut.

Within moments, everyone had paired up and disappeared.

Everyone… except Duncan and Heather.

They stood frozen in the now eerily quiet hallway, realizing at the same time that they were the last ones left.

Heather crossed her arms and huffed. "Well. This is a stupid situation."

Duncan let out a dry chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "No kidding."

A pause. An awkward, loaded pause.

"…So." Heather shifted her weight. "Guess we should—"

"Not a chance," Duncan cut in, shaking his head. "If we bunk together, people are gonna talk."

Heather scoffed, feigning indifference, but a faint blush betrayed her. "Like I care."

"Right. And that's why your face is turning red?" Duncan smirked.

Heather's eyes widened slightly before she scowled, turning away from him. "It's not—shut up."

Duncan chuckled again, but even he wasn't feeling as cool and collected as he pretended. The idea of sharing a room with Heather was… weird. But also not entirely terrible. In fact, the thought made his stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with ghosts.

Heather, for her part, was feeling just as conflicted. She had never thought about Duncan this way before—at least, not seriously—but standing here, alone with him in the dark, something about it made her heart race.

Another whisper drifted down the hallway.

Heather stiffened. Duncan's smirk faded.

Then—BANG! A door at the end of the hall slammed shut on its own.

Heather let out a sharp breath. "Okay, screw it," she muttered, grabbing Duncan's wrist.

He blinked. "Whoa, wait—"

She yanked him toward the nearest open room and shoved him inside before slamming the door shut behind them. The only light in the room came from the cracked glow of the moon filtering through the dusty curtains.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them felt thick, charged with something unspoken.

Duncan smirked, though there was an edge of something softer in his expression. "Wow. Didn't peg you for the hand-holding type, Heather."

Heather, still flustered, quickly let go of his wrist. "Don't flatter yourself. I just didn't feel like being murdered by a ghost."

"Sure, sure." Duncan stepped closer, lowering his voice slightly. "Or maybe you just wanted an excuse to bunk with me."

Heather's face burned, but she refused to back down. She tilted her chin up, meeting his gaze with a stubborn glare. "Don't push your luck."

Duncan chuckled, but there was something different in the way he looked at her now. A spark.

Neither of them said anything else, but as they hesitantly moved to opposite sides of the room, they both felt it—something was shifting between them. And whether they liked it or not, this was just the beginning.

The scene cuts to Chris, lounging in his director's chair in the control room, watching the live feed of The Underdogs' hallway with a wide, entertained grin. He casually pops a handful of popcorn into his mouth before turning to the camera.

"Well, well, well… what do we have here?" He leans forward, replaying the footage of Heather yanking Duncan into the room. "Looks like our resident bad boy and queen of mean are getting awfully cozy. Could it be? A little romance brewing in the haunted halls?"

He snickers before switching to another feed, showing the rest of the contestants freaking out in their rooms.

Chris laughs, clapping his hands. "Oh man, I love this show. And the best part? We're just getting started."

He turns to the camera with his signature grin.

"Will the teams make it throughout the night? Will Duncan find his 3rd girlfriend on Total Drama? And will I continue torturing these worthless people and laughing at every single scream and cry? Yes to that, but don't go anywhere, folks! More terror, drama, and questionable sleeping arrangements coming up right after the break!"

The screen cuts to static before launching into commercials.

After commercial..

"Welcome back! It's currently 3:01 AM, A.K.A, 'The Devil's Hour'.. and the campers are about to endure more 'spooky surprises' me and Chef so graciously set up.. it's time to wrap this challenge up and scare some campers.." Chris says as he clicks some buttons.

Sky sits up abruptly, breathing heavily. "Tell me you heard that."

Dawn, sitting cross-legged on her bed, eyes still half-lidded, simply nods. "Something unnatural is stirring."

A loud THUMP comes from the ceiling. Sky flinches. "Okay, what was that?!"

Dawn closes her eyes, concentrating. "A warning."

Sky pales. "A warning for what?"

Before Dawn can answer, their closet door suddenly creaks open… on its own.

The girls are tangled together under their blanket, trembling.

"I can't sleep, Katie!" Sadie whimpers.

"M-Me neither!" Katie squeaks. "Maybe if we—"

Suddenly, the old radio in their room crackles to life, blasting static before a distorted voice murmurs:

"Get… out…"

They SHRIEK and bolt for the door without a second thought. Looks like we've got 2 quitters from The Dominators, dropping their count to 13.

Shawn is wide awake, clutching a makeshift wooden stake he broke off a chair. Geoff, on the other hand, is rubbing his eyes.

"Dude, you gotta relax," Geoff mumbles sleepily. "It's just—"

RATTLING.

The door handle jiggles violently.

Shawn yelps, throwing a pillow at it. "SEE?! I KNEW IT!"

Geoff's exhaustion vanishes in an instant. "Nope. Nuh-uh. I am not dying in some freaky ghost motel."

They exchange a look before bolting out of bed, grabbing their bags, and dashing for the exit. Another 2 quitters.

Duncan stirs awake, blinking groggily. "Ugh… what time is it?"

Heather, sitting on the opposite bed, arms crossed, is wide awake. "Three. And I haven't slept at all."

Duncan smirks, still half-asleep. "Scared?"

Heather shoots him a glare. "I can't sleep because some idiot thought playing a haunted lullaby on the speakers was a good idea."

Just then, a loud KNOCK echoes from their door. Both freeze.

Heather tenses. "Who the hell is that?"

Duncan frowns. "No one in their right mind is walking around this place at—"

Another KNOCK, more insistent this time.

Duncan gets up, approaching the door cautiously. He reaches for the handle—

Then—

BANG!

Something slams against the door from the other side, rattling it violently.

Heather leaps from her bed, her tough-girl exterior cracking. "Okay, nope. Nope!"

Duncan backs away, nodding quickly. "Yeah, screw that. I don't wanna be the guy who dies first."

For a moment, they just stare at the door, waiting. The air is thick with tension.

Heather lets out a breath. "You're not sleeping either, huh?"

Duncan sighs. "Nope." He glances at her, his usual smirk replaced by something softer. "Might as well keep each other company."

Heather hesitates, then nods. "…Fine. But don't get any ideas."

Duncan chuckles. "Wouldn't dream of it."

They sit back on their beds, side by side. For the first time, the tension between them isn't just from the ghostly horrors outside.

Back at the front of the hotel, the front doors SLAM OPEN.

Katie, Sadie, Shawn, and Geoff come sprinting outside, panting and terrified.

Shawn grips Geoff's shirt. "We're out, dude! This is literally how horror movies start!"

Katie and Sadie nod frantically. "We're sleeping outside!"

Chris, sitting in a foldable chair with a cup of coffee, watches with a huge grin. "Aaaand we have our first 4 chickens!" He turns to the camera. "And how ironic that all 4 of them are from The Dominators. Ooooh, this is juicy! Ghosts, screams, and unexpected new bonds? What more could I ask for?!"

As the night progresses..

As the eerie night drags on, the clock creeps toward 8 AM. The once-boisterous energy from the campers fades into a tense, nervous silence, with only a handful still managing to endure the horrors of the haunted hotel.

As time passes, more and more campers break under the pressure.

The Underdogs, once determined to tough it out, start losing members rapidly. The first to give up is Zoey, clutching a pillow as she quietly exits, her nerves completely shattered. Leshawna follows soon after, muttering, "I ain't stickin' around for this mess," before making her way out.

Bridgette and DJ are next, their usual calm demeanors shaken beyond repair. "Nope, I'm done," DJ whispers before practically sprinting out. Anne Maria, Lightning, and Owen soon give in as well, the relentless scares finally wearing them down.

Then comes the most surprising departure—Gwen. Despite her goth persona, even she has had enough. "This isn't fun anymore," she mumbles, rubbing her arms as she heads for the exit. Noah, unwilling to be left alone, sighs. "Yeah, not worth it," he mutters, trailing behind her.

After losing more than half of the team, this leaves only four Underdogs standing—Duncan, Heather, Courtney, and Trent—each determined to last until morning.

Meanwhile, the Dominators face their own struggles.

Sky is the fifth to crack, sighing in frustration before exiting the hotel. Sierra, despite her best efforts, can't handle the tension any longer and practically drags Brick out with her.

One by one, more of the team folds. Mike and Sammy rush out together, screaming at the top of their lungs.

Dawn, Ella, and Scott last a little longer, but eventually, exhaustion and fear take over. They make their exits with varying degrees of panic, dropping like flies until only two Dominators are left and still standing—Alejandro and Scarlett.

With just six campers remaining—Duncan, Heather, Courtney, and Trent for The Underdogs, and Alejandro and Scarlett for The Dominators—the final minutes crawl by. The atmosphere is thick with tension, but none of them move. They're too stubborn, too determined.

Confessional: Courtney

The Underdogs

She crosses her arms, visibly annoyed. "Seriously?! Eleven people quit?! ELEVEN?! What happened to teamwork? What happened to not embarrassing ourselves? Ugh, it's like no one even cares about winning anymore! If it weren't for me, Duncan, Trent, and Heather, The Underdogs would've completely flopped." She groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Unbelievable."

Confessional: Trent

The Underdogs

He shrugs, trying to play it cool, but there's clear disappointment in his voice. "I get that it was scary, but come on—eleven people bailing? That's more than half our team! I thought we were tougher than that." He sighs, rubbing the back of his head. "At least the four of us stuck it out. But man… we're gonna hear it from Chris for days about this."

Confessional: Duncan & Heather

The Underdogs

They're sitting next to each other, both looking a little awkward but also amused.

Duncan smirks. "Okay, so, uh… that was a night."

Heather scoffs. "Yeah. A ridiculous night." She pauses, then adds, "But hey, at least we didn't wimp out like half our team."

Duncan chuckles. "True. Props to you, Princess. Didn't think you had it in you."

Heather rolls her eyes but smirks slightly. "Please. I was never going to let some haunted house get the best of me."

A beat of silence. They both shift a little.

Duncan scratches his chin. "Sooo… about us bunking together—"

Heather quickly interrupts, narrowing her eyes. "We didn't bunk together. We just happened to stay in the same room for survival reasons."

Duncan grins. "Riiight. And dragging me in by the wrist was, what, a survival tactic?"

Heather glares, but her cheeks are tinged pink. "Drop it."

Duncan just laughs, clearly enjoying her reaction. "Hey, I'm just saying… you could've picked literally anyone else, but you picked me-"

Heather interjects, standing up. "You were literally the last person left!

Duncan smirks, having fun teasing her. "Could've bunked by yourself."

Heather's blush deepens, realizing she has nothing to say since he's right. "I'm done." She says, getting up and leaving the outhouse.

Duncan watches her go, then turns back to the camera with an amused smirk. "Yeah… she totally likes me."

Then—at last—the bell tolls.

Chris appears outside, grinning like a madman as the final six stumble out of the hotel, drained but victorious. "Well, well, well… looks like most of you couldn't handle a little haunted house fun! But congrats to our final six survivors! You either have nerves of steel… or you're just too stubborn to quit. The Underdogs take the win…again..having 4 players left to The Dominator's 2."

The Underdogs, though exhausted, manage to muster some energy as the reality of their victory sinks in. Courtney pumps her fist in the air, grinning despite her drooping eyelids. "Three in a row, baby! That's what I'm talking about!"

Trent chuckles tiredly. "Yeah… I'd be more excited if I wasn't running on zero sleep."

Duncan stretches his arms over his head, smirking. "Hey, a win's a win. And I gotta say, watching Chris freak out half the camp? Totally worth it."

Chris steps forward. "As for the eleven of you that bailed? Oof. Big yikes. You really let the team down."

He spins toward The Dominators with an exaggerated pout. "And you guys… only two of you lasted? I mean, come on! That's just sad. A few more hours, and you could've maybe pulled off a win."

Scott groans. "Yeah, yeah, rub it in, why don't ya?"

Chris grins. "Oh, I plan to. But first—Underdogs! Enjoy your victory! You've earned it."

Courtney practically beams. "We so did."

He smirks at Duncan and Heather, who glance at each other awkwardly before looking away. "And, uh, some of you seemed to get extra cozy in there. Can't wait to see how that plays out."

As the Underdogs celebrate, Duncan and Heather exchange a quick glance—only to realize they're both still standing a little too close from their night spent together in the haunted hotel.

Heather crosses her arms, shifting uncomfortably. "Well. That happened."

Duncan rubs the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at her. "Uh, yeah. Guess it wasn't the worst way to spend a night."

Heather glares at him, though there's no real bite behind it. "Don't make this weird."

"You're the one blushing," Duncan teases, though the slight pink tint on his own face betrays him.

Heather scoffs, turning away before anyone else can notice. Duncan does the same, stuffing his hands in his pockets. But neither of them can shake the strange, flustered feeling lingering between them.

Confessional: Alejandro

The Dominators

The camera flicks on, revealing Alejandro, arms crossed, his usual composed expression slightly cracked with something unreadable.

"So. Heather and Duncan?" He lets out a short, amused scoff, though his eyes darken slightly. "Interesting. I have to admit, I never would have expected that pairing. Duncan, of all people? Really?"

He leans back slightly, his smirk returning but not quite reaching his eyes. "Heather is many things—ruthless, intelligent, not easily impressed. But Duncan?" His smirk twitches as he chuckles dryly. "Let's just say, I'll be keeping a very close eye on this little development. Who knows? Maybe I'll even help move things along."_

Chris claps his hands together. "That's a wrap on this nightmare! But don't get too comfortable—things are only going to get worse from here."

As the exhausted campers shuffle away, one thing is certain—the competition is far from over. And for Duncan and Heather, something new has just begun.

As Chris walks off, the remaining Dominators glance at each other grimly, knowing that with elimination looming, one of them won't be around for the next challenge.

Confessional: Sky

The Dominators

Sky leans in with a frustrated sigh.

"Honestly, there's a lot to unpack here. But if I'm being real? Scott barely pulled his weight. Sure, he stuck it out longer than some, but he was so focused on his own issues, he didn't do much to help the team stay in the game. If he wasn't complaining, he was sleeping." She crosses her arms, clearly irritated. "We needed all hands on deck, and he didn't deliver."

Confessional: Scott

The Dominators

Scott, looking slightly annoyed, shrugs. "Okay, okay. So, maybe I wasn't the MVP. But we're in a haunted house for an entire NIGHT with no sleep! Who wouldn't be frustrated? I stuck around longer than a lot of people. Honestly, I think I deserve a bit of credit." He leans forward. "But whatever, if they want to blame me for everything, let them."

Confessional: Sadie

The Dominators

Sadie fidgets with her hair, looking down. "I know, I know, Katie and I are a package deal, but, um… I just… yeah I don't know what to say. Honestly, we were the first two from our team to bail out. I wouldn't be surprised if one of us were voted out, we deserve it. I can't even lie."

Confessional: Katie

The Dominators

Katie, looking down and fiddling with her hands, sighs. "I didn't mean to let everyone down. But I just couldn't handle it anymore. Sadie and I tried, but we both broke. I couldn't keep it together." She sniffs. "I wish I had more to give."

Confessional: Alejandro

The Dominators

Alejandro, ever the strategist, has his arms folded as he speaks with a knowing smirk. "Honestly, it's hard to say who to blame. Sadie and Katie are a duo. But they were both equally weak, so what could one of them really do on their own? As for Scott… he was barely there in terms of focus." He pauses, tapping his chin. "The only logical thing is to blame all three. No one really stood out as doing their part."

Confessional: Sky (continuing)

The Dominators

Sky gives a small, sarcastic laugh. "Like, yeah, sure. Katie and Sadie were a package deal, but when one half of the deal checks out, the other one's stuck. And Scott? Don't get me started."

When the votes come in, the tension is palpable. The reasons for each vote are clear, yet complicated. Some vote for Scott, frustrated by his constant complaining and lack of focus during the challenge. His tendency to fall for the traps and drag the team down made him a weak link. Others vote for Katie, who was one of the first to bail out, and whose excessive screaming only added to the chaos. She may have been terrified, but her reaction wasn't helping anyone. Meanwhile, some cast their votes for Sadie, who, like Katie, couldn't keep it together and eventually left the challenge.

In the end, the choice is difficult, as all three were equally responsible for The Dominators' loss. Scott's poor performance and attitude, Katie's early exit and lack of composure, and Sadie's similar collapse all contributed to the team's downfall. But who to eliminate? Should it be a double elimination, with both Katie and Sadie being voted off together since they essentially share the same mindset and couldn't function without each other? Or should it be a single elimination, with Scott going home for failing to step up when it mattered most?

Chris stands in front of The Dominators, his usual playful demeanor replaced with a rare, stern expression. The team shifts nervously, sensing the seriousness in the air.

"This challenge was a pretty tough one, campers," Chris begins, his tone colder than usual. "And honestly? You didn't exactly show me the kind of determination I expect from contestants in this game. Three of you were blamed for tonight's loss, but who will stay, and who will be eliminated? You've all cast your votes, and made your decisions, but let me remind you of something."

He pauses, allowing the tension to thicken.

"As you know, when I call your name, you are to catch your marshmallow. That marshmallow represents your immunity, your safety from tonight's elimination. If you do not receive a marshmallow, you've been eliminated."

Another pause, before he continues with a somber look in his eyes.

"Looking at this team tonight, I have to say I'm very disappointed in your performance. You guys really need to step it up. The lack of effort, the cowardice—it's not what I expect from competitors in Total Drama. So, with that being said… let's start the ceremony."

He steps back and picks up the first marshmallow.

"First marshmallow goes to… Lindsay."

Lindsay catches it, letting out a relieved sigh.

"Geoff."

Geoff catches it with a grin, looking relieved.

"Alejandro."

Alejandro grabs the marshmallow, giving no visible reaction but clearly relieved.

"Mike."

Mike catches his marshmallow, his usual stoic expression unchanged.

"Sierra."

Sierra catches the marshmallow with a slight smile, her nerves starting to ease.

"Brick."

Brick catches his marshmallow, clearly relieved.

"Dawn."

Dawn catches it, her face serene but showing the relief of a close call.

"Scarlett."

Scarlett grabs the marshmallow, her expression cool and composed.

"Sky."

Sky catches the marshmallow and nods quietly.

"Shawn."

Shawn catches his marshmallow and exhales, feeling some tension lift.

"Ella."

Ella catches it, her eyes darting around, feeling more at ease.

"Sammy."

Sammy catches it, giving a slight but grateful smile.

"Wait a minute, aren't there supposed to be 2 of us left with no marshmallows?" Scott asks, his voice filled with confusion as he glances between Chris and the other contestants, clearly unsure of what's happening.

Chris flashes his signature grin, but there's no humor in it this time. He slowly turns his gaze toward Scott, dragging out the tension in the air.

"Great catch, Scott! You're absolutely right." Chris pauses for a moment, savoring the dramatic effect before tossing the last marshmallow onto the plate and straight into Scott's hands.

"Congratulations, Scott. You're safe."

The tension is thick now, and everyone gasps, anticipating what's next. Chris takes a deep breath and leans forward, his grin widening into something much more mischievous.

"After watching your performance in today's challenge, it's clear that all three of you played an equal role in your team's loss. But when it came down to the votes, your team decided to eliminate the biggest liabilities—both of whom, unsurprisingly and to the shock of absolutely no one, are Katie and Sadie. That means… you're both eliminated!"

Sadie and Katie as well as the rest of the team freeze and gasp, their eyes widening with disbelief as Chris continues.

"That's right, campers—it's a double elimination tonight! Katie and Sadie, you'll both be taking the Dock of Shame. What can I say? You really dropped the ball on this one. All I heard during the challenge was nonstop screaming, and to top it off, you were the first two to bail. When it came time to vote… well, most of the team had the same idea."

Sadie's face falls, and Katie lets out a breath that's more frustration than resignation. They share a quick glance, clearly stunned, but Chris isn't done yet.

"Oh, but don't think it's just your screaming that cost you. No, no… it's about the bigger picture. When your whole team's hanging by a thread, the first ones to snap are usually the first ones to go, A.K.A. you scaredy-cats."

Chris shrugs casually, his voice dripping with amusement. "Guess you two didn't quite measure up to the challenge. So, pack your bags, girls. Your time here is up."

Katie and Sadie stand there, processing the weight of the situation. They don't even speak as they slowly turn and begin heading toward the exit, both of them visibly deflated.

As they walk out, Chris turns to the remaining contestants with a wicked grin. "Alrighty campers, head to bed. Don't get too comfortable, because the competition's about to get even crazier. It's far from over. You're all safe. For now.." Chris says, as he turns to the camera.

As the screen fades back to Chris standing alone in front of the camera, he gives the audience a sly, almost conspiratorial look. He leans in, speaking directly to the viewers with his usual flair.

"Well, folks, there you have it—Katie and Sadie are officially out. But trust me, their trip down the Dock of Shame is just the beginning. The competition is heating up, and for those still in the game? They'd better brace themselves, because things are about to get way more intense."

He pauses, letting the weight of the moment sink in, before flashing his trademark grin.

"The Underdogs have claimed their third win in a row, but as you saw tonight, not all victories come without their cost. Who will crumble under the pressure? Who will rise to the challenge? And most importantly, who's next to join the ranks of the eliminated?"

He raises an eyebrow, his voice lowering to a dramatic whisper.

"Stay tuned and find out, next time on Total, Drama… GENERATIONAL WARFARE!"

Chapter Text

Ep. 6: "Afloat with the Competition"

"Last time on Total Drama: Generational Warfare… the campers had to survive one night inside a huge haunted hotel on a nearby island. And oh boy was it fun to tamper with!" Chris says, chuckling. "It was even more fun to watch!"

Cut to the campers pulling each other into different rooms, the lightbulbs exploding everywhere.

"Several surprises awaited them inside! 'spooky ghosts', undead spirits, creaky floors, dusty rooms, and little did they know, Chef and I were in control of it all!" Chris adds, as he chuckles. "Some contestants didn't exactly perform the way I hoped, but it was still fun!"

Cut to The Dominators rapidly losing member after member, starting off with Shawn and Geoff, and then Katie and Sadie.

"The Dominators were dropping like flies. Katie and Sadie were screaming their butts off, Shawn and Party Boy bailed the minute they heard a noise, and more of them dropped until only 2 were left standing, Alejandro, and Scarlett."

Cut to Alejandro and Scarlett hiding and trying to survive together, being the last two of The Dominators left.

"The Underdogs performed a lot better than The Dominators, that's for sure. They had some excellent teamwork, and even though more than half of their team bailed, 4 of them were left standing, which was enough for them for get the win. Again." Chris says, emphasizing the word 'again' in a disappointed manner.

"The Dominators took another hit, marking their third loss in a row," Chris continues, shaking his head. "Really not a good look for the name of their team. At this rate, they might as well rename themselves The Defeated!"

Cut to The Dominators at the elimination ceremony, looking frustrated and disheartened as Chris reveals the votes.

"With their backs against the wall, tensions were running high. In the end, it was Katie AND Sadie who got the boot, which.. if you watched the last episode it was very obvious why."

Cut to Katie and Sadie leaving and walking to the Dock of Shame silently.

"And the bond between Duncan and Heather just keeps on growing, which Alejandro has finally taken notice of! This is no longer a love triangle, it's a whole love PENTAGON!"

Cut to Duncan and Heather bunking together, smiling as they talk to each other, etc, and Alejandro's confessional about how he's taken notice of their sudden closeness.

"Will The Dominators finally break their losing streak? Can The Underdogs keep up their momentum? And what wild challenge do I have planned next?" Chris grins mischievously. "Find out right here, right now, on Total… Drama…. GENERATIONAL WARFARE!"

(Cue the TDGW Intro)

The Dominators sit at their table, eating breakfast. The mood is surprisingly lighthearted, with everyone in good spirits for once.

Lindsay twirled her spoon in her oatmeal. "This actually tastes kinda good today!"

Sammy took a bite and nodded. "Yeah, for once, I don't feel like I'm being poisoned."

Scott poked at his eggs with a fork. "Speak for yourselves. This looks like something my grandma left in the fridge for three months."

Brick sat up straight. "A real soldier eats whatever's in front of him, no complaints!"

Dawn closed her eyes, as if reading the room's energy. "The balance here feels… harmonious. It's refreshing."

Alejandro smirked, taking a sip of his juice. "Ah, yes. The rare moment of peace before someone inevitably ruins it."

Sky raised an eyebrow. "Are we actually bonding right now? Or is this just a temporary glitch in reality?"

Geoff grinned. "Maybe we're finally becoming a real team!"

Ella clapped her hands. "Ooh, we should celebrate with a team song!"

Shawn shook his head. "Yeah, no thanks. The last thing I need is a musical number distracting me from potential zombie attacks."

Sierra giggled. "Come on, Shawn! Live a little!"

Scarlett adjusted her glasses. "Statistically speaking, cooperation does improve survival rates in competition-based environments."

Mike smiled. "Hey, if working together keeps us from losing again, I'm all for it."

For once, The Dominators seem to be functioning like an actual team. But for how long?

Unlike The Dominators, The Underdogs are enjoying a luxurious breakfast spread in their reward hotel. The camera follows Duncan and Heather as they walk in together, side by side, engaged in conversation like they've been doing this forever.

Heather flicked her hair over her shoulder, letting out an exaggerated sigh as she speared a piece of fruit with her fork. "You would not believe the meltdown Tammy had yesterday. I swear, the girl lost her mind over something so stupid. I told her she used way too much seasoning—like, an offensive amount—and suddenly, she's screaming at everyone like I just stole her life savings. It was embarrassing. For her, obviously."

Duncan smirked as he loaded his plate with eggs and bacon. "Sounds like someone needs to take a deep breath and maybe, I don't know, stop acting like a freaking cartoon villain. Seriously, people lose their heads over the dumbest crap. Meanwhile, we're over here, living the dream—top-tier food, no Chris lurking around ready to drop us out of a plane… it's almost like we're on a real vacation."

Heather gave him a pointed look as she swirled the straw in her drink. "Ugh, don't even say that. The second you do, Chris is gonna come crashing through the ceiling, cackling like a maniac and announcing some ridiculous death trap of a challenge. It's like summoning a demon."

They took their seats, continuing to chat, completely oblivious to the way Courtney's grip on her fork had tightened to the point of nearly snapping it in half. Her nails dug into her palm as she tried—and failed—to ignore the way Duncan and Heather were laughing together like old friends. Like nothing had ever happened. Like none of it mattered.

Then, with a loud clank, she slammed her fork onto the table.

The entire room went silent. All eyes turned toward her, but Courtney didn't care. Her glare was locked onto Duncan and Heather, her patience finally snapping like a brittle thread.

"Okay, that's enough," she snapped, her voice slicing through the tension like a knife.

Heather raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion. "Excuse me?"

Courtney's jaw clenched as she gestured between them, her tone sharp and accusing. "What is this? You two—walking in together, whispering to each other, sitting together like you're suddenly besties? The cooking challenge, the hotel challenge—you're always side by side, like you've got some big, juicy secret that the rest of us don't know about." She crossed her arms, her glare unwavering. "I mean, really? Since when do you two even tolerate each other?"

Heather leaned back in her chair, looking positively delighted by Courtney's outburst. She smirked, tilting her head as if observing an interesting experiment. "It's called having a conversation, Courtney. I know that might be hard for you to understand, considering the only thing that ever comes out of your mouth is a lecture."

Courtney scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Oh, please. Duncan barely puts up with you on a good day. And now you're just… what? Best friends? Chatting about your lives like this is some kind of coffee date? It's weird. It's fake."

Duncan simply arched an eyebrow, still chewing his food, not bothering to dignify her with a response. Heather, on the other hand, was eating up every second of the drama.

Courtney threw her hands up in exasperation. "You know what? Fine. Whatever. Pretend like this isn't completely bizarre. But I'm just saying—after everything that's happened, after everything that's been said, it's a little suspicious that you two are suddenly acting all buddy-buddy."

For the first time, her voice wavered—just slightly—but it was enough for Heather to catch it. And that was all the confirmation she needed.

Heather's smirk widened as she tapped a finger against the table. "Ohhh. Now I get it." She leaned forward, eyes glinting. "This isn't about me at all, is it? This is about him. You don't care if Duncan's being nice to me. You care that he's not paying attention to you."

Courtney's back stiffened. "That's not—"

Silence. Courtney's jaw tightened, but she didn't deny it. She couldn't.

She exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples before looking straight at Duncan. "Okay, look—I've been trying to talk to you for days, but every time I even try to get a word in, you're always with her." Her voice was quieter now, but the frustration was still clear. "It's like I don't even exist to you anymore."

Duncan finally looked up from his plate, his expression unreadable. For a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes—something Courtney couldn't quite place. But just as quickly, it was gone.

She crossed her arms, forcing herself to stay composed. "And you know what? If anyone should be avoiding anyone, it should be me avoiding you. Because let's not forget who cheated on who." She gestured toward herself. "And yet, here I am, being the bigger person, trying to actually move on for the sake of the team. But you? You won't even give me the time of day."

Heather took a slow sip of her drink, fully entertained.

Courtney inhaled sharply, forcing herself to push down the frustration bubbling in her chest. "I'm not asking for some big, emotional heart-to-heart. I just think that maybe—maybe we could be civil. Maybe even…" She hesitated, as if the word physically pained her. "Friends."

For a long moment, Duncan said nothing. He simply leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers against the table, his expression unreadable.

Then, he snickered. "Yeah… Nah. I'd rather serve a life sentence in prison than be friends with you."

Courtney's stomach dropped.

Her fingers curled around the napkin in her lap, gripping it so tightly her knuckles turned white. But she forced a tight-lipped smile, masking the sting of his words.

Heather, meanwhile, looked absolutely thrilled.

Before Courtney could snap back, the hotel intercom crackled to life, interrupting the moment.

"Rise and shine, campers! Time for today's challenge, and it's gonna be boatloads of fun! I'll leave you to finish your breakfast, meet me at the dock when you're done so we can start our BOAT RACE!"

The tension at the table didn't disappear, but it was at least momentarily overshadowed by the announcement.

Across the room, the other members of The Underdogs were still caught up in their own conversations, oblivious to the drama unfolding.

Owen practically moaned in delight as he stuffed an entire pancake into his mouth. "This is amazing! I don't care if I explode later—totally worth it!"

Bridgette chuckled as she reached for the fruit salad. "You say that every time, Owen."

DJ laughed, shaking his head. "You sure that's a good idea, big guy? You've already eaten enough for, like, three people."

Leshawna arched an eyebrow as she piled eggs onto her plate. "More like five people."

Anne Maria groaned, pushing aside her cereal. "You know what would be amazing? If the rest of us actually got a chance to eat before Owen inhales everything."

Lightning slapped a few pieces of bacon onto his plate. "Yeah, bro! Let the rest of us get some fuel, too!"

Owen paused mid-bite, his cheeks stuffed. "Hey, I'm a growing guy! I need my energy!"

Noah took a slow sip of his coffee. "You're 19. What exactly are you still 'growing'?"

The team continued to chat, shifting their focus to the upcoming challenge—unaware that for three people at the table, the real battle had already begun.

Confessional: Duncan

The Underdogs

Duncan runs a hand through his mohawk, exhaling sharply as he leans back in the confessional chair.

"Man, I don't know what's happening to me. Ever since I started hanging out with Heather, I feel like I'm softening up again. Like, I came here to get my edge back, to remind people who the real Duncan is, not to sit around making friends and bonding over deep conversations. That's not my thing. And yet… talking to her? It's actually been kinda fun. We get each other in a weird way, like we see through all the B.S. most people fall for. It's… nice. And that's the problem. The second you start getting comfortable, that's when you get played. And let's be real, it's Heather. She could be plotting my downfall as we speak. I trust her about as far as I can throw her, and I don't make a habit of trusting anyone completely."

He crosses his arms, his smirk turning sharp.

"And Courtney? Don't even get me started. Back in All-Stars, she acted like I didn't exist, like I was some huge mistake she just wanted to forget. Now? Now that I'm hanging out with Heather, suddenly she's got a lot to say. Coincidence? Yeah, right. This is Courtney we're talking about. She's always playing the long game. She doesn't like being left out of the action, and now that she's not the center of my world, she doesn't know what to do with herself. It's kinda pathetic, really. Classic Courtney move."

Confessional: Heather

The Underdogs

Heather sits back, arms crossed, her expression unusually thoughtful.

"Okay, I don't know what kind of alternate universe I've landed in, but somehow, I actually… care about Duncan. Like, not in the 'how can I manipulate him' way. Not in the 'use him as a pawn' way. Just… in a normal, human way. Which is honestly kind of terrifying. I've spent so many seasons making sure no one gets close enough to actually matter, but with him? I don't feel like I have to be on guard all the time. It's… refreshing."

She lets out a small, almost amused sigh, shaking her head.

"And the crazy part is? I think he actually gets it. Like, we've both been through so much crap that it's kind of nice to have someone who just… understands. No fake niceness, no backstabbing—at least, not yet. I'm not saying I'm gonna be all rainbows and friendship bracelets, but for once, I'm not planning on stabbing someone in the back. At least, not him."

She hesitates, her fingers tapping on the armrest.

"Ugh. What is happening to me? Maybe I'm growing as a person… or maybe I'm just losing my touch. Either way, I actually want to keep this."

Bridgette absently stirs her coffee, her expression thoughtful. She's still thinking about Geoff, and how they never talk anymore…

"Alright, so can we all agree that the goal for today is not ending up stranded in the middle of the lake? Or, you know, capsized?"

Owen enthusiastically shoots his hand up, already mid-bite into a pancake. "I can handle paddling! I've got the strength, the stamina, and the spirit!"

Zoey raises an eyebrow, smirking as she gestures to his overfilled plate. "Yeah, you've also got about ten pounds of food in your stomach. You sure that's gonna help?"

Owen swallows his bite, grinning. "If anything, it just makes me more powerful!"

Anne Maria leans back, flipping her hair. "Listen, I don't know about all that, but if anyone's gonna get us across that finish line first, it's me. Speed, style, and strategy—I've got it all."

Duncan raises an eyebrow at her, leaning forward on his elbows. "Oh yeah? And what makes you the boat-racing expert?"

Anne Maria smirks. "Let's just say I've got a knack for getting out of sticky situations fast. You gotta be quick on your feet—or, in this case, quick on the water."

Leshawna points a fork at her. "I like the confidence, but let's not forget, half of y'all can't even stay upright in a canoe. If I have to play lifeguard today, I'm charging extra."

Noah sips his coffee, deadpan as ever. "I love how everyone suddenly turns into a world-class rower the second a challenge involves boats. Meanwhile, half of you can barely walk in a straight line on land."

Trent raises his glass in a mock toast. "Well, Noah, not all of us have the luxury of sitting back and critiquing everything. Some of us actually have to try."

Courtney sighs, rubbing her temples, but there's the hint of a smile on her lips. "Can we just focus on actually winning this thing? No last-minute disasters, no sudden hero moments—just a clean, efficient win."

Jasmine leans forward, resting her elbows on the table. "Strategy's gonna be key. We have to work together if we want to stay ahead of The Dominators."

Confessional: Jasmine

The Underdogs

"Blimey, I just realized I haven't even stepped foot in this confessional yet. I'm pretty sure this is my first time using it this season.. Guess I've been too busy actually playing the game instead of talking about it. But hey, better late than never, right?"

"Our team's been great so far. We've won 3 challenges in a row! And y'know, I gotta say, being on the same team as the majority of the Total Drama veterans is pretty sweet! Back in Pahkitew Island, none of the original cast were around, so stepping into this season and actually playing alongside legends like Duncan, Heather, and Leshawna? That's a whole different experience."

She folds her arms, her expression turning more thoughtful. "I mean, let's be real—I'm practically still a newbie compared to them. This is only my second season, and these guys? They've been playing the game for years. They've seen it all, been backstabbed, done the backstabbing, and somehow keep coming back for more. You'd think that'd be intimidating, but honestly? It feels like a bit of a safety net. They know what they're doing, which means as long as I play my cards right, I can learn a thing or two and stay ahead of the curve."

Courtney scans the table, frowning slightly.

"Wait—where's Gwen?"

Sitting at the lake was none other than Gwen herself. She sat with her drawing pad, sketching and enjoying the cool breeze. Bridgette then approached Gwen, pausing for a moment before speaking. "Hey, why aren't you eating with the team?"

Gwen didn't look up from her drawing, her pencil gliding across the paper. "I've got a lot on my mind," she said softly, not meeting Bridgette's gaze. "I just wanted some space to think for a while."

Bridgette sat down next to her, a supportive smile on her face. "If you need to talk, I'm here."

Gwen hesitated, then sighed, setting down her pencil. "I don't know… I just feel like I'm not really fitting in anymore. Everyone's so caught up in their own thing, and I feel like I'm the only one who's not really clicking with the group anymore."

Bridgette nodded sympathetically. "I get that. I've been feeling kind of the same way lately with Geoff. I mean, we used to hang out all the time, but now that he's with The Dominators… we barely see each other. It's like he's a whole different person over there, and I don't even know where we stand anymore." Bridgette sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Oh my gosh, do you know what happened last time we spoke?"

Gwen looked confused. "No, what happened?"

Bridgette let out a breath, shaking her head. "It was during the hide-and-seek challenge. I was trying to get away, right? And I guess Geoff was too, 'cause we both ended up running straight into each other. Full-on collision—flashlights flying, both of us hitting the ground, total mess."

Gwen raised an eyebrow. "Yikes. So that was your first time speaking since the game started?"

"Yeah, and you'd think it'd be, like, a cute moment or whatever, but no. It was so awkward." Bridgette groaned, hugging her knees. "We used to be inseparable, you know? Now it's like we barely even know each other. We just stood there, fumbling through small talk, and then basically ran away in opposite directions."

Gwen gave her a sympathetic look. "Sheesh.."

"Right? It's like ever since we got put on different teams, everything changed. We don't hang out, we don't talk—heck, we don't even look at each other half the time." She frowned, kicking a small rock into the water. "I don't know… I just feel like we're drifting apart, and I don't know if that's just the game or if it's something worse."

Gwen was quiet for a moment before saying, "I think you guys just need to sit down and have a real conversation. Being on different teams is making things weird, but if you both still want to be together, you should try to work through it." She paused before asking, "Do you want to be with him?"

Bridgette blinked at the question, caught off guard. "Of course I do," she said quickly, but then hesitated. "I mean… yeah, I think so. It's just—" She sighed. "I don't know. I don't want to lose him, but I also don't want to be in a relationship where we barely talk. It's just weird now. And plus.. he's literally on the enemy team.."

Gwen nodded in understanding. "Yeah… I get that."

Bridgette looked out over the water, lost in thought. "I just don't know how to fix it."

Gwen gave her a small smile. "Maybe you should just talk to him. Really talk to him. You won't know what's going on unless you do."

Bridgette sighed. "Yeah… maybe you're right."

The conversation shifted as they all stood up to head to the docks, excitement building in the air. The camaraderie was palpable, and the earlier tension seemed to fade as they made their way out, eager to face the challenge ahead.

Cut to all contestants lined up at the dock.

The camera zooms in on the two teams standing in their respective groups, eyes widening at the chaotic sight before them—two unfinished boats, piles of wooden planks, nails, hammers, and other scattered boat parts littering the dock. A few seagulls squawk overhead, adding to the scene's chaotic energy.

Chris stands in front of them, looking particularly smug.

Chris claps his hands together. "Alright, campers! Hope you enjoyed your beauty sleep, because today's challenge is gonna test your brains, brawn, and teamwork! Before you can race your boats around the island, you have to build them first!"

A few contestants groan.

Scott crosses his arms. "Great. Another day, another chance to get splinters."

Heather raises an eyebrow. "You mean we have to build this junk into something that actually floats?"

Chris smirks. "That's the idea, Heather! Each team gets their own pile of materials. No extra tools, no instructions—just good ol' fashioned teamwork! When it's done, two players from each team will drive for the team. First duo to complete the race around the island wins the challenge for their team!"

Dakota crosses her arms. "Wait, so the rest of us just stand here and cheer while they do all the work?"

Chris smirks. "They're not doing all the work. You'll all build the boat together—then it's up to two of your teammates to take the wheel and bring home the win."

Dakota crosses her arms with a huff. "Ugh, so we do all that work just to stand around and watch? That is so unfair! I didn't sign up to be background noise!"

Lindsay tilts her head, frowning. "Wait… how do we know which pieces go where?"

Brick salutes confidently. "We improvise! A strong foundation and proper balance are key to seaworthy construction!"

Dawn closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "The wood carries past energy. Some pieces will naturally fit together if we listen to them."

Alejandro smirks. "Or… we could just use logic and put the biggest parts together first."

Zoey nods. "Okay, so we have to build fast and make sure it's stable. Got it!"

Owen claps his hands together. "Awesome! I've always wanted to build a boat. And race one. And probably fall out of one!"

Jasmine pats his back. "Let's try not to capsize, big guy."

Chris pulls out an airhorn. "Enough chit-chat! You've got thirty minutes to build your boats. And… GO!"

The airhorn blasts, and the teams immediately scramble toward their piles of materials, ready to construct their vessels.

The Dominators rushed to their pile of supplies, immediately realizing the challenge ahead.

Scott groaned, kicking at a plank of wood. "This is a disaster waiting to happen."

Scarlett adjusted her glasses, scanning the materials. "Only if we let incompetence dictate our strategy. Which, considering this team, is a real possibility."

Geoff crossed his arms. "Hey, let's not start pointing fingers before we even get started."

Lindsay twirled a strand of hair. "Wait, we're pointing fingers? I thought we were building a boat!"

Mike, already flipping through his personalities in stress, took a deep breath. "Okay, guys, we just need a plan. We can't afford to waste time arguing."

Brick stood tall. "Agreed! We need a leader to organize our efforts."

Alejandro smirked. "Naturally, that would be me."

Sky raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, no. If anyone's leading, it should be someone who actually cares about the team."

Ella clapped her hands together, eyes sparkling. "Oh! I can sing a song to inspire teamwork!"

Alejandro shot her a dry look, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah… let's not do that."

Shawn, eyeing the supplies suspiciously, took a step back. "As long as none of this stuff is cursed."

Dawn placed a hand on the pile, closing her eyes. "The wood has no ill intentions… though I sense it has been mishandled in the past."

Sammy shifted nervously. "Okay, well, that's unsettling."

Scarlett pinched the bridge of her nose. "We are wasting time. The logical approach would be to start with the base."

Geoff nodded. "Alright, then let's get to work!"

With that, the team began piecing together their boat. Lindsay and Sierra held planks in place while Brick hammered them down. Alejandro supervised, ensuring everything looked sturdy. Scott and Sky tied ropes to secure the frame. Mike and Sammy worked on balancing the weight distribution, while Ella hummed to "boost morale." Geoff, Shawn, and Dawn focused on adding finishing touches.

After a few minutes of struggling, they started to find their rhythm.

Scott wiped his brow. "Huh. We might actually be onto something."

Sky smirked. "Told you teamwork wasn't so bad."

Shawn tapped the frame. "As long as this thing doesn't collapse mid-race, we might actually win."

The camera cut to The Underdogs, who were already deep into their construction efforts. They were off to a great start, moving swiftly to gather the pieces they needed for their boat.

Duncan immediately began organizing the materials, tossing planks and barrels to the others. "Alright, Heather, get the base! We need something strong to hold it together."

Heather grabbed the piece he tossed her, giving him a quick nod. "On it. We can't afford any weak spots."

Courtney, Zoey, and Gwen were working on assembling the smaller pieces of the boat, looking at the scattered materials with determination. "Let's just make sure it's balanced," Courtney said, inspecting the pieces with a critical eye. "We don't want any accidents."

Noah and Leshawna were taking charge of securing the frame. "You really think that's going to hold, Noah?" Leshawna asked skeptically, lifting a large piece of wood.

"Trust me," Noah responded dryly. "I've seen enough boat disasters to know what not to do."

Jasmine and Dakota were arranging ropes to help tie everything together. "We just need to keep everything in place while they finish the frame," Jasmine said, working quickly to lash everything securely.

Everything was flowing smoothly at first. The Underdogs had the advantage of momentum from their previous wins, and their boat was coming together quickly. There was a sense of unity, and Heather and Duncan were at the center of it all, coordinating the others with ease.

But then, as the clock ticked down, the cracks started to show.

"Hold on," Courtney snapped, eyeing Duncan as he placed another piece of wood at a precarious angle. "That's not going to work! The boat will tip over."

"Are you serious?" Duncan shot back, frustration creeping into his voice. "It's fine the way it is!"

Courtney's arms were crossed tightly over her chest. "No, it's not! You're just throwing things together. There's no balance!"

Chris, standing off to the side, watched the unfolding drama with a smirk. "Uh-oh, looks like The Underdogs are starting to fall apart! Meanwhile, The Dominators are working together like magic! Could this be the end of their winning streak?"

At the sound of Chris' voice, Leshawna and Gwen exchanged a look before stepping in to try and calm things down. "Alright, guys, we need to get back on track here," Gwen said, her voice low but firm. "The more we argue, the less time we have to finish."

But Duncan and Courtney weren't backing down. "I'm just saying we need to be more careful," Courtney snapped, her eyes narrowed. "If we don't make this right, we'll never finish it in time."

"MY GOD, JUST SHUT UP ALREADY!" Duncan snapped, his voice echoing across the camp, earning stares from both his team and a few of The Dominators. "If I knew you'd still be this much of a pain, I wouldn't have even bothered coming back to this damn show!"

Courtney froze for a moment, her face flushing with a mix of sadness, anger, and frustration. She had tried so hard to make things right with him—she'd apologized, she'd been willing to sit down and talk things through. But all he'd done was shut her down every single time, and it stung more than she was willing to admit. This wasn't like her; she wasn't the type to let herself get hurt like this, but she couldn't help it. It hurt more than she thought it would. Her fists clenched at her sides as she shot back, her voice trembling with barely contained emotion, "You know what, Duncan? Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I shouldn't have bothered trying to fix things with you."

Duncan's anger flared, and his words came out in a harsh, cutting rush. "NO, YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE BOTHERED! You KNOW the crap you put me through. And yeah, I messed up, I'll admit that, but I never would've done it if you weren't such a NIGHTMARE of a girlfriend. If I didn't care so much about you, I would've walked the second you started pulling that control freak stuff. But I stuck around, let you drag me through hell, and now you think you can just waltz back in like nothing happened? I would've rather stayed in prison than deal with you again! NOW SHUT UP AND BUILD THE DAMN BOAT!"

Courtney's face turned pale as Duncan's words hit her like a physical blow. She froze, her chest tightening. The sting of his words cut deeper than she could've imagined. She had never seen him this angry before, this harsh, and it left her reeling. She opened her mouth to respond but found herself unable to speak. Her hands shook as she turned away from him, trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to spill over.

Confessional: Courtney

The Underdogs

Courtney's face falls as she steps into the confessional, her fists still clenched by her sides. She takes a deep breath, trying to steady her voice. "I… I've never seen him that angry before. Not like that. I knew Duncan could be harsh, but hearing him say that… it cuts deeper than anything he's ever said to me. I don't even know how to respond to that. I tried… I really tried to fix things between us. I've apologized, I've changed, but apparently, none of that matters to him. He's so… bitter. I… I don't even know if I can keep doing this. I can't even look at him right now. It hurts so much. I… I didn't deserve that." She looks away from the camera, blinking quickly to hold back the tears threatening to spill.

Heather steps up to Duncan, her voice unexpectedly calm and soft as she places a hand on his shoulder. "Duncan," she says gently, making sure to catch his eye. "I get that you're upset, but this isn't the time or place for this. Let it go. We've got a boat to build, and that's the focus right now." She doesn't back down, holding his gaze, a quiet authority in her demeanor that speaks louder than any harsh words could.

Duncan, still clearly fuming, takes a deep breath and lowers his shoulders. For a brief moment, he looks like he might snap again, but then he looks at Heather, nodding slowly, realizing she's right. "Fine," he mutters, trying to keep his temper in check, "I'll focus." He grabs another piece of wood, this time with more control, though his anger hasn't completely dissipated.

Meanwhile, Bridgette approaches Courtney, who stands off to the side, her hands tightly clenched at her sides, struggling to hold back tears. Bridgette puts a hand on her back, her voice soothing and gentle. "Hey, it's okay," she says softly. "You're strong, don't let him get to you like that. You're better than this." Courtney bites her lip, her emotions running high, but she slowly nods, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"I—I know," Courtney says, her voice shaky. "It's just… hard. I just wanted him to listen for once." She sighs, wiping away a tear. "But you're right. Let's finish this."

Bridgette gives her a small smile. "That's the spirit," she says, stepping back to give her space.

The tension remains, but slowly, the group falls back into a rhythm. Heather and Duncan continue to build together, working silently but in sync, while the others return to their tasks, with Bridgette staying by Courtney's side as she fights to focus on the boat instead of the emotional storm inside her.

"Woah, that was BRUTAL. I don't know if Courtney's gonna be able to recover from that one… Talk about a gut punch!" Chris says with a smirk, clearly enjoying the drama unfolding."

Confessional: Geoff

The Dominators

"Honestly, I can't even begin to imagine what Duncan went through with Courtney. I've known the guy for a long time, and it was clear from day one that he was struggling with everything that went down between them. She really did control him, manipulate him. It's hard to watch your friend go through something like that. I can't blame him for finally snapping." He shakes his head with a half-sigh. "I just wish he didn't have to do it so loud. But hey, you can only take so much before you lose it."

Confessional: Scott

The Dominators

Scott chuckles, a smirk playing on his lips. "Look, Duncan's been through the wringer with Courtney. She was awful to him, like, controlling and manipulative. I get why he snapped. I mean, it's about time someone told her how it is. He just didn't hold back, and honestly? Kinda refreshing to see someone stand up to her for once. I would've lost it a lot sooner if I was in his shoes." He leans back, crossing his arms. "Duncan's always been that way, blunt as hell, but it's clear Courtney really messed him up. I'm not gonna blame him for finally speaking his mind."

Confessional: Sammy

The Dominators

"I don't really know Duncan all that well, or Courtney for that matter, but I've watched every season of Total Drama back in the day. And honestly? That outburst from Duncan? Long overdue. Like, way overdue. I can see why he lost it like that. Courtney really drained him, emotionally, mentally, in every way possible. She had him on a leash for so long, and I think he just couldn't take it anymore. But what I will say is, yeah, during a challenge? Not the best timing, you know? That part? I gotta say that was a little uncalled for. But other than that? Honestly, it was deserved."

She pauses, her expression softening slightly as she adds, "It kinda reminded me of when I finally stood up to Amy, you know? For so long, I let her walk all over me, control everything, make me feel like I was the problem. But one day? I just had enough. And when I stood up for myself, it was like… I don't know, a weight just lifted off my shoulders. And I think that's what happened with Duncan. He'd been holding it in for so long, and it just exploded. I get it. It's hard to break free from that kind of control. Maybe after this challenge I should try and talk to him.. to see if he's okay after.. that."

As the final pieces of both boats are secured, both teams take a collective breath, standing back to admire their work.

The Underdogs' boat gleams under the sun, its sleek and smooth design looking built for speed. Jasmine and Bridgette stand at the ready, the two of them taking their positions. Jasmine looks confident, though she knows they need to focus if they want to hold their ground in this race. Bridgette gives her an encouraging smile.

"Alright, we've got this. Let's do it for the team," Jasmine says, adjusting her seat as she grips the handles.

Bridgette nods. "Let's show them what we're made of."

The Dominators, however, are already in their boat, a fierce-looking craft that seems to scream speed and aggression. Alejandro and Lindsay share a look, both of them determined. Alejandro cracks his knuckles, grinning at Lindsay.

"Let's make this a quick win," Alejandro says, his voice smooth but dripping with confidence. "You keep an eye on the turns, I'll take care of the acceleration."

Lindsay laughs lightly. "Don't worry, I've got it."

"GO UNDERDOGS, WE GOT THIS! LET'S GET OUR 4TH WIN!" Courtney exclaims, cheering Bridgette and Jasmine on.

With the boats revving to life, both teams are ready for the race. Chris steps forward, the tension thick in the air.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, it's time for the race! Three laps around the island, and it's anyone's game! The Underdogs are in the lead after building their boat first, but The Dominators are already showing their muscle in that sleek ride of theirs! Let's see who can keep their cool under pressure!"

The horn blares, signaling the start of the race. Instantly, both teams rev their engines, and the boats lurch forward, slicing through the water with explosive speed.

The Dominators rocket out of the starting line, with Alejandro expertly maneuvering the boat, keeping it steady as Lindsay focuses on the route ahead. They take a commanding lead, easily gliding over the water, the boat's sleek design and speed giving them a noticeable edge.

On the other hand, The Underdogs are struggling to match that momentum. Jasmine is pushing the boat hard, and while it's fast, they seem to lag slightly behind. Bridgette calls out directions, guiding Jasmine through the first turn, but they're trailing in second place.

"Come on, Jas, we can catch up!" Bridgette calls, her voice unwavering as she keeps a steady hand on the controls.

As the boats race around the island, The Dominators easily maintain their lead, the wind whipping through their hair. Alejandro gives a smirk, clearly in his element.

"This is too easy," Alejandro mutters, his eyes on the horizon, watching for any sharp turns.

Meanwhile, The Underdogs are gaining some ground. Jasmine's focus sharpens, pulling their boat through the water like she's been doing this her whole life. She's learned to trust Bridgette's calls, and now they're hitting their stride, pulling up beside The Dominators as they round the first lap.

"Hold steady!" Bridgette shouts. "We're almost there!"

The Underdogs manage to edge closer, but The Dominators aren't letting up. It's clear The Dominators have more experience in this kind of race, but The Underdogs aren't backing down without a fight.

Chris, standing off to the side, comments on the action, his tone exaggerated with drama.

"Look at this, folks! The Underdogs may have started slow, but they're gaining fast! Will it be enough to take down The Dominators' head start?"

Both teams enter the second lap. The Underdogs are now just inches behind, giving The Dominators a run for their money. The water splashes up as they take tight corners, cutting through the waves with all they've got.

As the boats race around the island, the speed picks up, with The Dominators still holding the lead, but The Underdogs are catching up fast. The sound of the engines hums in the air, the waves crashing against the sides of the boats as both teams push forward, determined to claim victory.

Chris's voice booms over the loudspeakers, breaking the tension as the racers head into the second lap.

"Hold onto your life vests, folks! Looks like things are about to get a little more… explosive around here."

Suddenly, as they round a sharp turn, a loud boom echoes through the air. Water splashes up around The Dominators' boat as one of the mines hidden beneath the surface detonates just feet away. Alejandro swerves sharply to avoid the blast, barely keeping the boat steady.

"Oh crap!" Alejandro shouts, his knuckles white from gripping the controls.

"Watch out, there's more!" Lindsay yells, eyes wide as they pass a field of underwater mines, barely visible beneath the waves. She points at the water, where several more mines are scattered just below the surface.

Meanwhile, Jasmine and Bridgette are right behind, expertly steering their boat through the chaos, dodging the explosions as best they can. But the tension is palpable—every turn feels like a risk as they race past the mines.

But just when they think they've dodged the worst, a loud splash rings out, and the unmistakable fin of a shark breaks the surface of the water, circling the boats.

"Oh no, sharks?!" Bridgette exclaims, her eyes wide as the huge creature lunges out of the water, snapping its teeth just inches from the boat.

Chris laughs maniacally in the background, clearly enjoying the chaos.

"Yep! You didn't think this race would be a walk in the park, did you? Now it's not just about speed, folks—it's about surviving the wildest obstacles we've thrown your way. Who's gonna make it out of this in one piece? Stay tuned to find out after the break!"

The screen cuts to static before launching into commercials.

After commercial..

The screen fades back in to reveal the two boats still speeding through the rough waters, weaving between the underwater mines as sharks circle dangerously close. The tension is thick, the sound of roaring engines and crashing waves filling the air.

Chris's voice rings out over the loudspeakers. "Welcome back, folks! If you're just tuning in, you've missed a lot. Explosions! Sharks! Screaming! And it's only getting crazier!"

As if on cue, one of the sharks lunges toward The Underdogs' boat, its jaws snapping just inches away from Jasmine's arm. She quickly yanks the steering controls to the side, narrowly dodging the creature.

"Oi! These things are way too close for comfort!" Jasmine shouts, eyes locked on the water.

Bridgette, gripping the other side of the controls, nods frantically. "Just keep going—we're right behind them!"

Meanwhile, on The Dominators' boat, Alejandro and Lindsay are pushing forward, still barely holding onto their lead.

"I hate this challenge! I hate this challenge!" Lindsay shrieks as she ducks when another explosion goes off nearby, sending a geyser of water into the air.

Alejandro grits his teeth, his focus razor-sharp. "Just keep your hands steady! We can't afford to slow down now!"

Chris cackles over the speakers. "Oh, but slowing down might just save you! Because up ahead… well, let's just say this next obstacle is a real slippery situation!"

The racers barely have time to process his words before they spot it—a narrow, rocky pass cutting through the island, its surface slick with oil spilling into the water from barrels floating nearby.

Jasmine's eyes widen. "Are you kidding me?! How is this legal?!"

"Legal? This is Total Drama, dude!" Chris responds, clearly enjoying their suffering. "EVERYTHING IS LEGAL HERE!"

Alejandro makes the first move, steering The Dominators' boat into the pass. The moment the boat hits the oil-slicked water, it skids wildly to the side.

"AHH! AHH! AHHH!" Lindsay screams as the boat fishtails dangerously.

"Lindsay, stop screaming and help me steer!" Alejandro yells, desperately fighting to keep them from crashing into the jagged rocks surrounding the pass.

The Underdogs are right behind them, carefully maneuvering through the slick waters. Bridgette's grip tightens on the controls as she and Jasmine work together to keep their balance.

"Steady… steady…" Bridgette mutters.

Jasmine suddenly sees an opening. "We can pass 'em here! Go left!"

Bridgette doesn't hesitate, yanking the controls. Their boat surges forward, pulling up alongside The Dominators' boat. The teams are now neck and neck, their boats just inches apart. That's when the trash talk starts.

"Enjoying the view from second place?" Alejandro taunts, smirking.

Jasmine smirks right back. "Not for long. Hope you don't mind eating our wake."

Lindsay crosses her arms. "Ha! We've been ahead this whole time! No way are we letting you guys win now."

Bridgette grins. "Then you better hold on tight, 'cause we're taking the lead!"

Jasmine slams on the accelerator. The Underdogs' boat lurches forward, but at the same time, Alejandro jerks the wheel to cut them off. Their boats slam against each other, sending waves splashing over the sides.

Chris laughs wildly. "Ooooh! Now this is the drama we love to see!"

With one final push, The Dominators regain control, barely staying ahead as they exit the rocky pass and hit open water again.

Chris's voice booms over the speakers. "And with that, The Dominators are still in the lead, but The Underdogs are right on their tail! It's gonna come down to the final stretch! Who's gonna take the win? Don't blink, or you'll miss it!"

The finish line comes into view in the distance, both teams gunning for victory as the race barrels toward its climax…

The cheers from the dock grow louder as The Underdogs finally take the lead, their boat surging ahead with Jasmine and Bridgette working in perfect sync.

"YES! That's what I'm talking about!" Noah pumps his fist.

"GO UNDERDOGS! BRING IT HOME!" Leshawna shouts, her voice nearly drowning out the roaring engines.

"Fourth win in a row, here we come!" Courtney exclaims, practically bouncing with excitement.

Meanwhile, The Dominators aren't taking it lightly.

"C'mon, pick up the pace!" Mike yells, gripping the edge of the dock.

"You guys had the lead the whole time! Don't blow it now!" Scarlett shouts, scowling.

"We still got this! Go, go, go!" Geoff cheers, his arm around Lindsay's teammates for support.

Out on the water, The Underdogs keep pushing ahead, leaving The Dominators trailing behind.

"I can't believe it! We're actually winning this!" Bridgette grins, keeping her grip steady on the wheel.

Jasmine nods, laser-focused. "Let's just keep it steady, one more lap—"

SPLASH!

A massive shadow moves beneath the surface before a giant shark erupts out of the water, its mouth wide open in a ferocious lunge.

Bridgette gasps. "HOLY—"

The shark slams back down into the water right next to their boat, sending a huge wave crashing over them.

"AHH!" Jasmine yells as the wave knocks her hands from the controls. The boat veers sharply to the side, spinning out of control.

Bridgette desperately tries to regain balance. "I can't—! It's—!"

CRASH!

The Underdogs' boat smashes into a floating barrel, causing it to jolt violently before slamming sideways into the water.

The crowd at the dock gasp in unison.

"Oh NO!" Dakota yelps, hands over her mouth.

"Come on, get back in it!" DJ shouts, practically willing the boat to start moving again.

Meanwhile, on The Dominators' boat, Alejandro and Lindsay watch the chaos unfold.

Lindsay gasps. "Did they just—?"

Alejandro smirks. "Looks like our problem solved itself."

Seizing the opportunity, Alejandro and Lindsay gun it, their boat speeding past The Underdogs as Jasmine and Bridgette struggle to recover.

"THE DOMINATORS ARE BACK IN THE LEAD!" Chris announces, his voice booming with excitement. "Talk about a game-changer! With The Underdogs crashing out, it's looking like this might be The Dominators' race to win!"

The Dominators erupt into cheers.

"YES! That's how it's done!" Shawn shouts, pumping his fist.

"Knew you guys wouldn't let us down!" Brick grins.

"Take it all the way, guys!" Sierra cheers, waving her arms.

Back on The Underdogs' boat, Jasmine and Bridgette frantically work to correct their course.

"Come on, come on—" Bridgette mutters, gripping the controls.

Jasmine grits her teeth. "We're not done yet."

The boat roars back to life, and they take off again—but with The Dominators already ahead, can they still win it?

The roar of the engines fills the air as The Underdogs' boat revs back to life, the crash seemingly only fueling their determination. Jasmine grips the wheel with renewed intensity, her eyes narrowed with focus. Bridgette holds on tight, her knuckles white as she watches The Dominators' boat pull ahead.

"Come on, we can do this!" Jasmine grits her teeth, her foot pressing harder on the pedal.

Bridgette nods. "Let's bring it home!"

Behind them, The Dominators are cruising at full speed, Alejandro and Lindsay pushing their boat to its limits. They're in the lead, but only by a few boat lengths—just far enough to taste victory, but not enough to feel safe.

"Yes! We've got this!" Lindsay calls out, flashing Alejandro a grin.

"Not so fast!" Alejandro smirks, eyes on the finish line ahead. "We still need to keep an eye on them."

Jasmine and Bridgette are catching up fast, their boat eating up the water beneath them. With each powerful surge, The Underdogs inch forward, the tension mounting with every passing second.

"Here we go, the final lap!" Chris's voice booms over the speakers. "It's neck-and-neck, folks!"

As they round the last turn, the finish line in sight, The Underdogs make their move. Jasmine swerves the boat to the left, cutting off The Dominators' path.

"NO!" Alejandro shouts, slamming his hand on the wheel, trying to adjust the course.

"Yes!" Jasmine grins, narrowly dodging a pile of rocks jutting from the water as they pick up speed.

But just as it looks like The Underdogs might overtake them, disaster strikes. From out of nowhere, a massive whirlpool forms directly in front of them.

"A whirlpool?!" Bridgette gasps. "Is this—is this even allowed?!"

"Hold on!" Jasmine yells as the boat lurches toward the rapidly spinning water. The boat starts to tilt sideways, the sharp pull of the whirlpool threatening to suck them in.

"We can't let it suck us in—Steer right!" Bridgette screams.

Jasmine twists the wheel hard, sending the boat careening to the right. But it's a split-second decision. Their boat nearly capsizes, water flooding over the sides as they narrowly escape the edge of the whirlpool's grip.

Meanwhile, The Dominators, now watching the chaos unfold in their wake, seem to have found their moment to pull away.

"This is it!" Lindsay yells. "We're almost there, Alejandro!"

"I know, I know!" Alejandro grins, tightening his grip on the controls. "Hold on, Lindsay—this is ours."

But then—BAM! A sudden shockwave from the whirlpool slams into their boat. It knocks them off balance, sending them spiraling to the left.

"No!" Alejandro shouts, but it's too late. The boat tilts dangerously as it struggles to regain control.

The Underdogs, not about to let their opportunity slip away, floor it. With their boat back on track, they race toward The Dominators, just inches away from the finish line.

"It's now or never, Jasmine!" Bridgette calls, her heart racing.

With an almost supernatural surge of speed, The Underdogs surge forward, cutting through the waves with the force of a charging bull.

The Dominators are barely holding onto their lead, but it's clear—the Underdogs are coming for them.

"Come on, come on—" Lindsay breathes, her fingers trembling on the wheel.

The two boats race neck-and-neck, the finish line just yards away, the roar of the engines drowning out all other sounds.

And then—BAM! A sudden blast of water from the whirlpool pushes The Dominators' boat forward at just the right moment.

"Yes!" Alejandro roars triumphantly as their boat surges across the finish line, just seconds ahead of The Underdogs.

"YES!" Lindsay jumps up in excitement, clapping her hands as the boat slows. "We did it, Alejandro!"

The Underdogs' team stands at the dock, staring in disbelief as The Dominators celebrate their victory.

Chris's voice blares over the loudspeakers. "And there it is, folks! What a race, and what a comeback for The Dominators, who pulled ahead in the final moments to take the win! After three long episodes without a victory, they've finally come out on top!"

The Dominators erupt into cheers, their victory celebrations loud and energetic. Lindsay jumps up and down, while Scott raises his arms in triumph. "Yeah! That's what I'm talking about!" Alejandro grins, his team clearly ecstatic.

Meanwhile, The Underdogs stand in silence, a mix of frustration and acceptance on their faces. Zoey admits with a smile on her face. "Well, I guess winning streaks don't last forever," she says.

"I knew we were due for a loss," Duncan says with a shrug. "But that was one heck of a race."

"Nice job out there," Jasmine says, giving Alejandro a nod and extending her hand. "You really kept it together, especially with all the chaos. It was a tough race, but you pulled through."

Alejandro smirks, taking her hand with a firm shake. "You weren't too bad yourself, Jasmine. The Underdogs definitely put up a good fight."

Confessional: Alejandro

The Dominators

"That was a race for the ages. The Underdogs definitely pushed us to the limit, but in the end, we were the ones who stayed ahead. It feels good to finally get a win under our belts after three episodes of bad luck. The race had its ups and downs, but we kept our cool and made it happen. As for the sharks, mines, and crazy obstacles? That's just what Total Drama is all about. We know how to handle the pressure, and today, we came out on top."

Confessional: Jasmine

The Underdogs

"Ugh. I can't believe we let that slip away. We were so close, and then—bam—shark attack. I mean, come on, who throws sharks into a race like that? It was insane. I still think we had a good shot, but… The Dominators pulled ahead when it mattered. Gotta give them credit. We'll bounce back, though. We're still a team to be reckoned with."

Confessional: Gwen

The Underdogs

"I'm proud of how we fought until the very end, but it's hard not to feel disappointed. We've been on such a roll, and then… well, things just fell apart. The sharks, the crashes—it was like a bad dream. But hey, it's not the end of the world. We've still got a lot more challenges ahead, and we'll find a way to keep that streak going. It's not over yet."

Confessional: Lindsay

The Dominators

"I can't believe we actually won! I mean, I'm not trying to be a show-off or anything, but we totally earned this one. That last lap was all us. We pushed hard, worked together, and made it through all those obstacles—sharks, mines, explosions… It was a lot, but we were ready. Honestly, I'm just glad it's over. Now we get to enjoy the victory!"

"Underdogs… I gotta admit, you were killing it for a while there. Three wins in a row? Impressive. But, all good things must come to an end, right? Your streak ends tonight. And now, one of you will be going home," Chris announces, leading the contestants back toward the campground.

The camera fades in on The Dominators, lounging by the sparkling poolside of the McLean Spa Hotel, towels draped over their shoulders, and cold drinks in hand. The sun shines brightly, reflecting off the pristine water as they bask in their well-earned luxury. Alejandro reclines in a chaise lounge, his signature smirk never leaving his face as he looks out over the pool, clearly relishing the comfort. Lindsay lounges beside him, her feet dangling in the pool, a contented smile on her face.

"Ah, this is what winning feels like," Lindsay sighs, closing her eyes in bliss.

"I know, right?" Alejandro chuckles, taking a sip from his drink. "It's been far too long since we've had a taste of this."

"Honestly, this is what we deserve," Scott adds, leaning against a nearby wall and looking pretty smug. "The Underdogs are probably miserable back in those crappy cabins. I'm glad we're not there anymore."

"Yeah, no more bunk beds and rats," Shawn agrees with a small laugh, stretching out on the lounge chair next to Ella, who's quietly enjoying the view.

"We should savor this while we can," Mike says, glancing around. "We may have won, but this luxury won't last forever. The real battle's still ahead."

"Don't worry," Lindsay interrupts, "We've got this in the bag. We're just getting started."

Meanwhile, at the much less impressive cabins, the mood is far different. The Underdogs have just arrived, and the energy is noticeably lower. The harsh scent of mildew lingers in the air as the team files in, none of them particularly thrilled to be back in these old, rundown quarters. The mood is tense, and the exhaustion from the challenge still weighs heavy on them.

"That hotel was a dream," Courtney says with a sigh, shaking her head. "I forgot what it felt like to sleep in a comfortable bed. No rats, no mold. Just… peace."

"I didn't even realize how much I missed it," Gwen admits, crossing her arms as she stands in the doorway, looking around at their new 'home.' "It's like we got so used to the luxury that coming back here feels… wrong."

"Ugh, I'll take the McLean Spa over this place any day," Dakota grumbles, scrunching her nose at the unpleasant smell in the air. "These cabins are disgusting!"

"Yeah, we got spoiled," Bridgette says, trying to keep things light but clearly still a bit irritated. "But we'll survive. We've been through worse. We just gotta keep focused."

"Right, it's all about keeping our heads in the game," Duncan says, his voice surprisingly level despite the frustration lingering from earlier. "We've been on a roll, and this loss won't keep us down. We'll get back up."

"The problem is, we need to stay focused," Zoey chimes in, sitting down on one of the cots. "After the way things went down with Duncan and Courtney earlier, I think we've got more to worry about than just the next challenge."

"Yeah… don't bring that up," Duncan mutters, running a hand through his hair, his expression darkening as he avoids eye contact.

Courtney, standing by the cabin door, shoots him a glare. "It's not like I want to talk about it either, Duncan. But we need to address it if we're going to move forward."

"I'm not doing this with you again.." Duncan says, leaving the cabin to catch a break from the drama.

Duncan steps out of the cabin, needing some air to clear his head. He sits down on a nearby rock, letting the cool breeze brush against his face. The quiet of the night is a welcome relief from the tension inside the cabin. He leans back, staring up at the starry sky, trying to forget the argument and the stress of the competition.

A few moments later, Samey approaches, sitting beside him with a quiet sigh. She glances over at him, her eyes soft but knowing.

"Not your best day, huh?" Samey says gently, glancing at him, her tone filled with empathy.

Duncan lets out a long breath, running a hand through his hair again. "You could say that." He chuckles dryly. "I'm not exactly proud of how I snapped at Courtney earlier. It's just… things are getting to me. I didn't want to be that guy, but… I don't know how to fix this."

Samey nods, looking out at the horizon, her expression thoughtful. "I get it. Believe me, I do."

Duncan raises an eyebrow, a little surprised. "You do?"

"Yeah," Samey replies, her voice low but steady. "I've been in your shoes. I've had my moments, too. With my sister, Amy. I used to yell at her a lot, especially when things were tough… and it always felt like it was all her fault. But the truth is, I was just as much a part of the problem."

Duncan's gaze softens, his posture slightly relaxing as he listens.

Samey continues, her tone becoming more determined. "But you know what? We've got to learn to control those moments. And don't let the pressure break you, either. The challenges are tough, but you're tougher. You've got something worth fighting for, Duncan."

He glances over at her, the weight of her words settling in. "You really think so?"

Samey gives him a small smile, her eyes showing genuine care. "I do. You're not alone in this. Don't let the mess of today define you. You've got a team that's counting on you—Courtney included. Just… take a breath, and don't let it drag you down."

Duncan lets her words sink in. After a long silence, he finally nods. "Thanks, Samey. I needed to hear that."

Samey pats his back lightly. "Anytime. We all need a little support. You've got this. Just… don't lose sight of who you are."

With that, Samey stands up, walking back toward the cabin with a reassuring look over her shoulder. Duncan watches her go, feeling a little lighter than before. He takes another deep breath, focusing on the calm night around him. Maybe things would get better after all.

Confessional: Sammy

The Dominators

Samey sits in front of the camera, her hands clasped in her lap, looking a little uneasy. "Honestly, I probably shouldn't have done that. Duncan's on the other team, and I get that it's all about our team right now, but I just felt like he needed someone to talk to. I've had my moments with Amy, where I yelled at her and regretted it afterward. So I figured maybe if I gave him some encouragement, he'd feel better about the whole situation. Maybe it wasn't the smartest move, but I don't want him to stay all upset. I get where he's coming from. But, yeah, I probably shouldn't have made it my mission to cheer up someone from the other team. Let's see how that affects things."

Confessional: Courtney

The Underdogs

Courtney stands with her arms crossed, her face tight with anger, but there's a hint of hurt in her voice. "Who am I voting for tonight? Duncan, obviously. And if I'm the only one, then so be it. The guy made me cry. We were trying to work things out, trying to fix things between us, and what does he do? He yells at me like I'm the one causing all the issues. I was just trying to help. I've been trying to be the bigger person here, and he goes off on me like that? Unbelievable. This isn't just a one-time thing, either. He's got a temper, and that's not something we can just keep ignoring. I can't trust him, not after that. So, yeah, I'm voting Duncan off tonight."

She pauses, her expression softening but only slightly. "Maybe I'm being dramatic. But you know what? I'm upset. And I can't let that slide."

Confessional: Trent

The Underdogs

Trent leans back with a hand running through his hair, looking pensive. "I should vote for Duncan. I mean, we all saw what happened today. But I can't. The guy's been through a lot with Courtney, and I think that outburst was just years of frustration building up. Sure, it cost us the challenge, but… well, we all know winning streaks don't last forever. I think we need to look at the bigger picture here. Duncan's not a lost cause. I think we can get past this.

But when it comes down to who I'm voting for… it's Lightning. I mean, come on. The dude adds 'sha' to everything. What's that even about? And when we were building that boat, he didn't do anything. He just kept shouting 'Sha-booyah!' like it was helping. Newsflash, dude—yelling doesn't build boats."

Confessional: Leshawna

The Underdogs

Leshawna crosses her arms, leaning back with a deep sigh. "Now, let's be real here. Duncan? Yeah, I think he's part of the reason we lost. I mean, yeah, we were on a winning streak, but streaks don't last forever, and that outburst definitely threw off the team. Even The Dominators were distracted by it. That's not something we can just overlook. But I'm not about to play favorites, and I'm not suddenly jumping on Team Courtney, either. Duncan's gotta own up to that.

As for my vote? I'm going for Lightning. That dude? Straight-up deadweight. He didn't help at all with that boat, and 'Sha-booyah!' isn't gonna save us. No thanks, Lightning. You're out."

Confessional: Heather

The Underdogs

Heather leans in, her voice taking on a more serious, almost reflective tone.

"So, who am I voting for? It's definitely Lightning. He's annoying with all that 'sha' nonsense, but it's not just that. He didn't contribute to the team at all when we were building the boat. When someone's dragging everyone down, that's a problem."

"As for Duncan… yeah, he yelled at Courtney. It made things tense, but honestly? She deserved it, look what she's done to the guy. But he's said what he wanted to say, he's moved on, and frankly, so should everyone else. I'm not about to toss him aside over one slip-up. And besides, we've got this weird connection now. I'm not going to jeopardize that. So, sorry Lightning, but you're out. You weren't even trying, and that's something we can't afford."

At the elimination ceremony.. everyone sits in their respective seats, the air a little tense.. everyone awaits for Chris to walk the podium and pass out the marshmallows. After a few moments, he walks up to the podium and takes a deep breath.

"Welcome back, Underdogs, to tonight's elimination ceremony. I didn't expect to see you all here so soon, but as we all know, winning streaks don't last forever. Today was a great effort, especially from Jasmine and Bridgette—both of you gave it your all during the race, and I want you to know that doesn't go unnoticed. But, as we know, giving it your all doesn't always mean victory, and one of you will be going home tonight.

When I call your name, I'll toss you a marshmallow. That marshmallow signifies your safety from the vote tonight. If you don't hear your name, that means you've just spent your last night on Total Drama: Generational Warfare.

Now… let's get started."

Chris picks up the first marshmallow, his eyes scanning the group with a smirk.

"The first marshmallow goes to.. Gwen."

Gwen catches it easily, a small sigh of relief escaping her lips as she moves to the side, trying not to show how shaken she is.

"Anne Maria."

Anne Maria catches her marshmallow, rolling her eyes dramatically but still thankful to stay.

"Bridgette."

Bridgette flashes a smile and catches her marshmallow with ease, though it's clear she's holding her breath for the next round of names.

"Zoey."

Zoey catches her marshmallow with a relieved chuckle, exhaling the breath she didn't even realize she was holding.

"Noah."

Noah looks unfazed as he catches the marshmallow with one hand, his usual dry smirk on his face.

"Leshawna."

Leshawna nods and confidently catches the marshmallow.

"Courtney."

Courtney takes the marshmallow in her hand, her face stone-cold..

"Jasmine."

Jasmine looks down at her marshmallow and breathes deeply before stepping aside, her nerves still not entirely settled.

"Dakota."

Dakota catches it quickly, her eyes wide with disbelief as she holds it in her hands, trying not to look too relieved.

"Owen."

Owen grins widely, catching his marshmallow without missing a beat, his carefree attitude bringing a brief moment of levity to the room.

"Trent."

Trent grabs the marshmallow with a look of relief, trying to mask his nerves but not succeeding as well as he'd hoped.

"DJ."

DJ looks at his marshmallow, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, even as he looks back at the others with a nervous glance.

Lightning and Duncan, the final 2, glance around the team nervously.

"The last marshmallow of the night… goes to.."

The camera cuts between Lightning and Duncan multiple times, as Chris pauses for dramatic effect and the background music intensifies.

"Duncan."

Duncan easily catches the marshmallow with a relieved expression on his face.

"Lightning.. it's time to go buddy." Chris says, with the now empty plate.

"SHA-WHAT?" Lightning exclaims, standing up quickly. "You can't be serious! Me?! After all the work I did?!" His voice rises in a mix of confusion and frustration. "This is bogus, man! I didn't deserve this!"

He glances around at his teammates, his expression switching between disbelief and anger. "You all seriously voted me out? After everything I did out there?"

The team's voices overlap in a cacophony of accusations and frustration, making it hard to make out anything specific. But the tone was clear: Lightning had been eliminated, and the tension was palpable.

As the last of the voices faded, Lightning's frustration boiled over.

"You all are a bunch of sha-losers! I was one of your strongest members! This game just got 100% LESS STRONG, without the Lightning you're all gonna FAIL!" He flung his arms up dramatically, glaring at his teammates. He stormed off with one final glare, his exit leaving a charged silence behind him.

Chris smirked from the sidelines. "Well, that's that. The Underdogs just got a little less… electrifying. But anyways, will The Underdogs really lose without 'the Lightning'? Will Duncan and Courtney ever make up? And will their team come back from this loss? Find out next time, on Total.. Drama.. GENERATIONAL WARFARE!"

Chapter Text

Ep. 7: "The Obsta-Kill Kourse 2"

"Last time on Total Drama: Generational Warfare… The teams had to put their boat-building skills to the test, and once those boats were ready, it was time to race! But here's the catch—each team had to pick two lucky contestants to take the wheel and steer their ship through the chaos!"

Cut to Jasmine and Bridgette stepping up to drive for The Underdogs.

"Bridgette and Jasmine volunteered to captain The Underdogs' boat, while Alejandro and Lindsay took the helm for The Dominators!"

Cut to Alejandro and Lindsay working together, steering through the course.

"And let me tell you, the race was anything but smooth sailing. There were mines, sharks, oil spills—you name it, I threw it at them. You know, just the usual fun!"

Cut to Bridgette and Jasmine struggling as a shark splashes into the water, throwing their boat into chaos.

"At one point, it looked like The Underdogs' boat might just sink faster than their streak! Poor Jasmine and Bridgette couldn't keep control when a shark literally leapt into the water—talk about a fishy situation!"

Cut to Duncan snapping at Courtney during the race.

Tensions were really high on The Underdogs. Duncan? Well, he finally had enough of Courtney trying to run the show, and let me just say—it was about time! I mean, how did he put up with her for this long? The dude's been under pressure, and it was bound to blow up eventually."

Cut to Courtney, visibly upset after Duncan's outburst.

"Sure, he might've exploded at the worst possible moment during a challenge, but hey—at least it was a release! Courtney, on the other hand, is gonna need a lot of time to recover from that one. Ouch!"

Cut to The Dominators celebrating their win.

"But in the end, Alejandro and Lindsay's steady hands kept The Dominators in the lead, and they took home the win, ending The Underdogs' glorious three-challenge winning streak! I'm sure they were all bummed, but hey—what can you do?"

Cut to various confessionals about who to vote off.

"I mean, seriously—what is going on with Heather and Duncan? Talk about an unexpected duo. Heather voted for Lightning to keep Duncan around, and I don't know about you, but I'm pretty sure they're plotting something… or maybe not. I have no idea."

Cut to Heather's confessional, where she explains her reasoning for voting for Lightning.

"During voting things didn't go exactly as planned. As the votes were cast, it became clear that Duncan's outburst was causing some serious tension on his team. But, would it be enough to send him home? Not quite. The true villain of the night? Lightning. His obsession with saying 'sha' before everything finally caught up with him."

Cut to Lightning, visibly furious as he prepares to leave.

"And so, Lightning's run came to a crashing halt. He was sent packing after a crazy, chaos-filled night. Bye-bye, buddy!"

Cut to Chris smirking into the camera.

"With 27 contestants left, it's clear this competition is just getting started. There are more insane challenges ahead, and no one is safe. Who will rise to the top and dominate? And who will crash and burn? Can The Dominators keep their momentum going, or will The Underdogs claw their way back to the top? And most importantly—will Duncan and Courtney ever make up? Spoiler alert: probably not. Stay tuned to find out, right here on Total… Drama… GENERATIONAL WARFARE!"

(Cue the TDGW Intro)

The morning sun cast a dim glow over the camp, but the atmosphere was anything but peaceful. The previous day's challenge still lingered in the air, and though the teams had moved on, the tension between Duncan and Courtney hadn't.

Courtney spotted Duncan sitting on a log near the fire pit, sharpening his knife against a rock. Her chest tightened at the sight of him. Last night, she hadn't been able to sleep. His words kept echoing in her mind, over and over again. And as much as she hated to admit it, they hurt. She had to confront him.

She squared her shoulders and walked up to him, arms crossed tightly. "We need to talk," she said firmly.

Duncan barely spared her a glance. "No, we don't," he muttered, continuing to sharpen his knife. "And if you don't get out of my face right now I won't hesitate to get crazy again."

Courtney clenched her fists. "Yes, we do," she shot back. "I've been trying to fix things with you since this stupid season started, and all you've done is shut me out and blow up on me. I want to know why."

Duncan let out a humorless laugh, finally looking up at her with a glare. "Why? Why?!" He stood up, pocketing his knife as he scoffed. "Are you actually serious right now, Courtney? You really don't know?"

Courtney held her ground. "I know I made mistakes, Duncan! I know I was controlling, I know I pushed too hard, and I know I wasn't the easiest person to be with, but—"

"'Not the easiest person to be with'?" Duncan interrupted, his voice rising. "Are you actually downplaying what you did to me? You didn't just push too hard, Courtney, you treated me like your damn property!"

Courtney flinched, but Duncan wasn't holding back anymore.

"You controlled everything! What I did, who I talked to, how I acted—hell, I couldn't even breathe without you trying to micromanage it! And if I ever pushed back, you'd lose your mind! You'd scream at me, humiliate me, threaten me—"

Courtney's eyes widened in shock. "I never threatened you!"

Duncan let out a bitter laugh. "Oh yeah? What about the time you told me I'd regret it if I didn't stop 'flirting' with Gwen? Or when you said you'd make my life hell if I didn't follow your rules? That's not being a 'tough girlfriend' Courtney—that's being a damn nightmare."

Courtney's breathing grew unsteady. "I—I wasn't trying to be like that—"

"But you were," Duncan snapped. "And you never once saw a problem with it. You made me feel like I was never good enough, like I had to earn EVERY ounce of your approval. I couldn't just be myself because me wasn't up to your standards. And if we're—"

Courtney swallowed hard, her chest tightening. "That's not fair," she said, her voice quieter now. "I—I pushed you because I wanted the best for you, Duncan! I saw potential in you, and I wanted to bring it out!"

Duncan scoffed, shaking his head. "Oh, give me a break." His voice dropped lower, more cutting. "Let's be real here. If the real me was never enough for you—so much so that you had to write a 32-page letter nitpicking every little thing about me and expected me to memorize it, follow it—change who I was JUST to keep YOU happy—then you never loved me. Our whole relationship? Just a load of bullshit."

Courtney's mouth opened, desperation creeping into her voice. "But—"

"No. No goddamn BUTS," Duncan snapped, his voice firm. "That's just the truth—plain and simple. The fact that you actually sat down and wrote that damn letter, listing off everything you hated about me one by one—tell me, was it ever really love? What part of me did you even love… if you expected me to change everything?" He stepped closer, his eyes locked onto hers. "Is there ANY part.. of the REAL Duncan, that you loved? Tell me that."

Courtney struggled to find the right words, her pulse racing. "I—I just thought if I could get you to take things seriously, we could've—"

"Was it just so you could say you had a boyfriend? Just to wear the 'taken' title like some kind of badge?" Duncan cut in, his frustration boiling over. "And if that's all it was… was it ever even worth it? What did you actually accomplish? And what were you even hoping to achieve?"

Courtney took a shaky breath, trying to keep herself together. "That's not what I wanted—"

Duncan's eyes were sharp as he fired back, "Then what did you want, Courtney? Because the only thing you ever really succeeded at in our relationship… was making me feel like I wasn't enough. Like I had to change just to be worth your time. And you did change me—just not in a good way." His voice grew rougher, the weight of old wounds pressing through his words. "If you never liked the real me… then why did you even bother dating me in the first place?"

Courtney's lips parted, but no words came out.

Duncan exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "And don't even get me started on the double standards. You could lose your temper, you could call me names, you could talk down to me, and I was just supposed to take it. But the second I ever fought back? I was the villain."

Courtney stiffened, her breath hitching.

"Yeah," Duncan muttered, his tone laced with bitter certainty. "That's what I thought. You just… you just strung me along, didn't you?"

Her face flushed with both guilt and anger. "I never strung you along!"

"You did, Courtney! You knew I liked Gwen, you knew we weren't working, but you still tried to control me like I was yours to own! And the love? It was never real."

Courtney's voice was shaky now. "I didn't—I just—I just wanted us to work," she admitted, her voice cracking.

"But we didn't work," Duncan said, his voice quieter now but no less firm. "And we never will. Because, Courtney… you didn't love me. You loved the idea of me. The version of me that you wanted me to be. And I'm done pretending to be that guy. I never wanted to be that guy in the first place… but with you, I didn't feel like I had a choice." He scoffed, his bitterness returning. "Because you never gave me one."

He let out a dry, humorless laugh. "And you know what's funny about all this? It all started because of one night back in Season 1—one night where I somehow convinced you to let loose, to stop playing the perfect little good girl for once. And looking back…" He hesitated, something almost vulnerable flashing behind his eyes, buried beneath the frustration. "Was it ever actually love? Or was it just THE ADRENALINE THAT MADE YOU KISS ME THAT NIGHT!?"

Courtney immediately flashes back to that night during Season 1.. Chef had sent Duncan to one night of "solitary confinement in the boathouse". She.. she was worried about him.. so much that she went to the boathouse just to bring him food.. which is something she has never done to anyone..

In the boathouse, they talked for some time.. before her and Duncan went to raid Chef's fridge, bringing the team some food for the night.. afterwards, she ate so much food and became jittery, with the thought of finally being bad exciting her more and more.. until she threw up, causing Duncan to come outside and tease her about it. Then... then... she kissed him.. and their relationship began from there.

Back in the present, Courtney blinked as the memory faded, her breath catching in her throat. She was confused now..

Was it really just the adrenaline of finally doing something bad..? Or had that night simply given her the push she needed to do what she wanted all along?

And if that was true… what did that mean for everything that came after?

Courtney felt her throat tighten, but she stood her ground, her voice soft yet steady. "I did love you," she whispered. "Maybe I didn't always show it the right way, but it was real. Even before that night, I couldn't stop thinking about you. I tried to fight it because I didn't want to ruin my reputation by dating the 'bad boy'… but eventually, I just didn't care anymore. I loved you, Duncan. And despite everything, even after the cheating, even after the fighting… a part of me still loves you."

Duncan exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. "But it wasn't enough. And it wasn't right. And I don't want to do this anymore. I'm tired, Courtney. When Chris bailed me out of jail, he told me you were gonna be here, and I almost didn't come back because of you."

"Oh, so I was the reason you almost didn't come back, but you ran right back for Gwen, huh?" Courtney snapped.

Duncan let out a bitter laugh. "I didn't come back for Gwen either— you know why? Because in All-Stars, I was still so hopelessly in love with you that it ruined my relationship with her. She broke up with me because I couldn't let go of you. And then after that, the both of you had the nerve to humiliate me. Together." He clenched his jaw before forcing himself to relax, exhaling through his nose. "But I'm past that now. I came back to prove to myself that I wasn't the same pushover I used to be when we were together. And I think I've more than made my point."

His expression hardened, exhaustion creeping into his voice. "So let me make this clear, Courtney. I'm not here for you. We are done. In every way. I don't want to be friends, I don't want to 'make things right,' I don't want anything to do with you." His eyes locked onto hers, cold and unwavering. "Until the merge, we're just teammates. After that? We're strangers. And that's how it's gonna stay. You got that?"

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The anger had died down, but in its place was something else—something heavier. Something neither of them could quite name.

Courtney swallowed hard, looking down at the ground for a second before forcing herself to meet his eyes. Her voice was quiet when she finally spoke, but there was no mistaking the weight behind her words.

"You're right."

Duncan blinked. Of all the things she could've said, he hadn't expected that.

Courtney took a shaky breath. "You're right about all of it. I was controlling. I was unfair. I held you to a standard that I didn't even hold myself to, and I made you feel like you were never good enough for me when the truth is, I was just scared. Scared of losing you, scared of getting hurt, scared of not being in control." She let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, but there was no humor in it. "But in the end, I lost you anyway. And not just because of Gwen, not because of All-Stars, but because of me. Because of the way I treated you."

Her voice wavered slightly, but she kept going. "I made you feel like you had to change to be worthy of love, and that's… that's awful. That's not what love is supposed to be. I should have loved you for who you were, not who I wanted you to be." She bit her lip, looking away briefly before meeting his gaze again. "And I did love you, Duncan. I still do, in some way. But I know now that love isn't enough if you don't treat the person right."

Courtney exhaled slowly, her arms crossing over her stomach like she was trying to hold herself together. "I hated how I felt when I was with you sometimes. How frustrated, how out of control I was. But instead of looking at myself and asking why I felt that way, I took it out on you. I made you feel small just to make myself feel big. And that wasn't fair. It wasn't right."

She wiped at her eyes quickly, not willing to let herself cry. Not now. "And I know an apology doesn't fix anything. It doesn't erase what I did, it doesn't make you trust me again, and it doesn't mean we can go back to how things were before everything got messy. But I needed to say it anyway."

Her voice was softer now, almost… resigned. "I'm sorry, Duncan. For all of it. For the way I treated you. For making you feel like you weren't enough. For holding onto you when I should have just let you go. I don't expect anything from you—not forgiveness, not friendship. I just needed you to know that I get it now. And I wish I could have been better."

Duncan felt something in his chest tighten. He could hear the sincerity in her voice. See the regret in her eyes. And for a split second—just a second—he considered it.

Forgiving her.

Letting go of the resentment.

Being friends.

But then he remembered.

He remembered how many times he had let his guard down around her, only for her to twist the knife when he was most vulnerable. How many times he had tried to make things work, only to end up feeling worse about himself. He remembered the way she used to make him feel like a problem to be fixed instead of a person to be loved.

And suddenly, the warmth in his chest turned cold.

Duncan exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "It's too late for that, Courtney." His voice wasn't angry anymore, just… tired. "We're too deep into this little.. entanglement.. and I don't even know if just an apology would suffice at this moment.. I get that you mean it. And I appreciate you saying it. But it doesn't change anything."

Courtney nodded slowly, like she already knew that would be his answer. "I figured."

Duncan ran a hand through his hair, exhaling again. "Like I said. We're just teammates. After the merge? Strangers." He glanced at her one last time before turning away. "I really can't say it's been nice knowing you. But I will say.. goodbye. Take care of yourself, Court."

And with that, he walked away, leaving Courtney standing there, staring after him, feeling more alone than she had in a long, long time.

Courtney stood frozen in place, her mind spinning as every memory with Duncan came rushing back all at once. Their first kiss, the way he used to tease her, the rare moments when he made her laugh so hard her stomach hurt. The fights, the jealousy, the times she swore she'd had enough—only to come back, convinced they could fix what was already broken.

Her chest tightened.

She felt the sting in her eyes grow sharper, her vision blurring with every second that passed. She blinked rapidly, but it was useless. The tears were coming, whether she wanted them to or not.

Because for the first time, she wasn't angry. She wasn't bitter.

She was just… heartbroken.

And worst of all?

She had no one to blame but herself.

The irony wasn't lost on her. Duncan had cheated on her—by all accounts, she should be the one saying everything he just did. But as much as it hurt, she didn't even blame him anymore. Because, deep down, she knew she had driven him to it. Maybe she had always known.

Their relationship had been crumbling long before Gwen ever entered the picture. By the time season three rolled around, it was already broken beyond repair. So was it really cheating? Or had Duncan just been the first to admit that what they had was already gone?

For Courtney, all that remained was regret.

For Duncan, it was relief. Him and Courtney were done. Not just as a couple, not just as friends—completely. There was no going back, no fixing things, no rekindling old sparks that had long since burned out. This wasn't just another fight, another messy breakup they'd inevitably dance around before crashing back into each other again.

This was the end.

The end of their relationship. The end of whatever strange, chaotic friendship they had tried to salvage in the aftermath. The end of every lingering 'what if' and every unspoken thought that had once kept them tethered together, even when they weren't supposed to be.

For so long, they had been a storm—volatile, reckless, exhilarating. But even the fiercest storms run out of thunder eventually. And now, all that remained was silence.

Duncan had made his choice. And for once, Courtney wasn't going to fight it. Because deep down, she knew the truth: maybe she hadn't really loved him, but rather the version of him she had convinced herself he could be. And maybe, just maybe… she had been holding onto something that had never really been there at all.

It was the end of an era. And maybe—painful as it was—it was time to finally let go.

For the first time in a long time—since getting locked up, since the chaos of All-Stars, since everything—he felt like he had finally said it all. No holding back. No second-guessing.

And for the first time in a long time… he felt free.

He felt happy.

The Underdogs sit scattered across the cabin, some still waking up, others deep in conversation about the disaster that was the boat-building challenge. The tension from last night still lingers in the air, thick like morning fog.

"Man, I knew that challenge was gonna be a train wreck, but dang. Y'all saw how fast it all fell apart?" Leshawna said, shaking her head.

"Yeah… We actually had a lead, and then—" Bridgette sighed, stretching.

"We got smoked. Hard." Anne Maria said, brushing her hair. Or, as she likes to call it, her 'poof'.

Gwen scoffed, arms crossed. "Maybe it wouldn't have fallen apart if a certain person didn't lose their mind."

Anne Maria groans, clearly frustrated. "Why does everything always go wrong when we're doing good for once?"

"I know," Jasmine admitted with a sigh. "But we were close. We could've done it if we had pulled it together. If Duncan wasn't so ready to snap at Courtney—"

"Where is Duncan?" Zoey cut in, frowning.

"Good question," Leshawna muttered, scanning the cabin. "Try, with Heather." She said, pointing to Heather's empty bed.

They all paused, suddenly connecting the dots.

The group stared at each other for a moment, realization settling in.

After this morning's confrontation with Courtney, Duncan seemed to have moved on. There was a noticeable shift in his mood—he seemed lighter, freer. Everything he'd needed to say to Courtney had been said, and now, he felt a weight lifted off his shoulders. Duncan and Heather were on the sand, casually playing volleyball, the air filled with a sense of ease. It was a light-hearted game, a friendly competition between the two of them. The ball bounced back and forth, Duncan effortlessly sending it flying over the net. But it wasn't just a game—it was more than that. There was an unspoken connection growing between them, subtle but undeniable.

"You're getting better at this," Duncan said, grinning as Heather hit the ball back to him with a surprising amount of skill.

"Don't get used to it," Heather replied, smirking. "I'm just humoring you."

Duncan laughed, shaking his head. "Humoring me, huh? You keep saying that, but you're totally enjoying yourself."

Heather shrugged, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Maybe I am. What's it to you?"

"I just didn't think I'd see you on a volleyball court anytime soon," Duncan said, sending the ball over the net again.

"Yeah, well, you don't know me as well as you think," Heather teased, running after the ball.

As she turned to return the serve, their eyes met, and for a split second, there was a flicker of something else—a soft moment of connection that neither of them was ready to name, but both of them could feel.

"Guess you're right about that," Duncan said quietly, watching her closely as she lined up for another shot.

Heather smirked, her tone playful but sincere. "You're not too bad yourself, Duncan. Maybe I won't have to kick you off this team after all."

Duncan raised an eyebrow, grinning. "Yeah? You really think you could get rid of me?"

Heather smirked, her tone smooth. "I could, if I wanted to." She shifted her stance, preparing for the next serve.

Duncan chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "I don't doubt it. But good luck finding someone as skilled as me. I'm the one holding this team together."

Heather's eyes narrowed playfully. "Oh, I think you're getting a little too cocky there. You're not the only one keeping things afloat, you know."

"Maybe not," Duncan said, his grin softening as he caught the ball and tossed it in the air. "But I'm definitely not the weak link."

There was a brief silence between them before Heather spoke again, her voice a little quieter this time. "No, you're not."

Duncan paused for a moment, his eyes meeting hers. The moment hung in the air, like the calm before a storm, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

"Your serve," Duncan said, tossing the ball toward her.

Heather nodded, her lips curling into a small smile as she tossed the ball up to serve. "Try to keep up, Duncan."

"I always do," Duncan shot back, ready to return the volley. The tension between them was there, unspoken but undeniable, lingering in every passing glance.

The Dominators awoke in their luxurious rooms at the McLean Spa Hotel, the morning light filtering through massive windows, illuminating plush, cream-colored furniture. The scent of fresh pastries, coffee, and tropical fruit wafted through the air. The room was a far cry from the dusty cabins back at the challenge site, and everyone was more than happy to indulge in the luxury.

Geoff stretched out, flopping back onto his king-sized bed, a huge grin plastered on his face. "Man, this place is amazing! It's like we're on a vacation, not a competition."

Sierra was already sitting at the breakfast table, devouring a stack of pancakes with syrup cascading down the sides. "You're right, it's unreal! These pancakes? Heavenly." She took another bite, her eyes sparkling with joy.

Alejandro sat across from her, his perfectly groomed hair reflecting the morning light. He lifted a delicate cup of coffee to his lips, savoring the rich aroma. "Nothing like a morning with a view like this." His voice was smooth, almost teasing as he glanced at the others. "It's a shame we have to go back to the game soon."

Mike was quietly digging into a fresh fruit bowl, his focus on the ripe pineapple, mango, and papaya. He was taking everything in stride, his calm demeanor unshaken. "It's nice to relax for a change," he said, his voice soft but content.

Dawn leaned over from the side, holding a small plate with delicate pastries. "The energy here is so different," she said, a peaceful smile on her face. "I can feel it… just being surrounded by all this beauty."

Brick was enthusiastically eating a plate of eggs and bacon, clearly loving the indulgence. "I can't remember the last time I had a breakfast this good! This is the best part of the competition!"

Scott, sitting at the far end, glanced at his teammates with a smirk. "I'm just here for the food, honestly. This place is too fancy for me, but I'm not complaining." He shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth, savoring it with a satisfied grunt.

As they all basked in the luxurious morning, Ella fluttered over to the table, grinning as she snatched up a muffin. "I can't believe how amazing everything is here! It's like a dream."

Shawn stretched, yawning loudly as he joined the group. "You guys really know how to live it up. I'm just here for the comfort—this bed? Perfect."

Scarlett, sitting at the far end with a quiet smile, observed her team with a calculating glint in her eyes. "It's nice to be treated like this. Too bad the game's about to get serious again." She picked up her cup of coffee, taking a slow sip, almost savoring the anticipation of what would come next.

The mood was light, the team relishing in the comfort and extravagance of the spa, enjoying their break from the grind of the competition. But as always, the game loomed over them—soon, the relaxation would be over, and they'd be thrust back into the chaos of the next challenge.

As Duncan and Heather lined up for the next round, their hands brushed again, and for a heartbeat, neither of them pulled away. The air between them felt charged, and it wasn't just about volleyball anymore. The tension, the chemistry—it was undeniable.

Heather turned her back to him and tossed the ball into the air, a sly grin on her face. "Let's see what you've got, Duncan."

And as he prepared to serve, Chris began to announce the next challenge.

"Attention, all contestants! The next challenge begins in five minutes!" Chris's voice crackled over the speakers, echoing through the beach. "Get ready to head to the challenge area!"

Duncan froze, his hand still holding the ball, his focus immediately shifting to the announcement. He glanced over at Heather, who was already walking toward the edge of the court.

"Well, that's a buzzkill," Duncan muttered, shaking his head as he let the ball drop from his grasp.

She turned to face him, her eyes gleaming with a mix of challenge and something else, something unspoken. "Guess you'll just have to impress me another time, Duncan."

He shot her a look, something playful and undeniably attracted. "Oh, don't worry. I'll impress you whenever I want."

Before she could respond, they both began walking toward the challenge area, the moment they shared still lingering between them. As they moved away from the volleyball court, there was a sense that the game might be over for now, but something much bigger was just beginning.

Confessional: Duncan

The Underdogs

"What the hell is wrong with me? I already had Courtney, I already had Gwen… Look, I don't care what these losers think about me—at least, I shouldn't—but hypothetically speaking, if I were to get with Heather? My rep would be done outside this game. I mean, seriously, three relationships in, what, four years? That's gotta look bad. These feelings? Yeah, they need to go."

Confessional: Heather

The Underdogs

"Duncan and me? Pffft. As if. We would never work. Not in a million years. Him and those stupid little piercings he thinks are so cool… Ugh, and those eyes.. and his mohawk..his dumb green little mohawk.."

She sighs dreamily before her eyes widen in horror. Her face turns red as she snaps back to reality.

She gasps suddenly, covering her face with her hands. "Why am I even THINKING about an 'us'?! No, no, no, this can't be happening…" Her voice wavers for a moment, before she steels herself. "I'm not… I'm not falling for him. No way."

"Alrighty, campers, welcome to the next challenge!" Chris says, his arms raised high, his trademark grin spreading across his face as he gestures dramatically to the towering obstacle course behind him.

The contestants exchange wary glances, some grinning while others seem less than enthusiastic about what's coming. The course is intimidating, with high walls, swinging platforms, giant inflatables, and various dangerous-looking contraptions ready to send them flying.

"If you were in Total Drama All-Stars… which, literally half of you WERE… then you should remember what this is when I tell you about today. Today's challenge is called… 'The Obsta-Kill Kourse 2'!" Chris announces, voice dripping with sarcasm and excitement.

A few contestants groan. Others look terrified. The course looks even more intense than last time, and it's clear Chris is loving the chaos he's about to unleash.

"That's right, folks," Chris continues, pacing in front of the course. "'The Obsta-Kill Kourse' is back, and it's deadlier than ever! We've cranked up the difficulty, added more explosions, more traps, and more ways to get absolutely destroyed. And trust me, you'll want to watch your step. One wrong move, and you'll end up with a face full of foam—or worse!"

Noah couldn't resist his usual sarcasm. "Perfect, looks like after this challenge we'll be holding 27 funerals!"

"Each team will send one contestant at a time through the course. Your goal? Get to the finish line before your opponent. If you get to the finish line before your opponent, you earn your team a point. If your opponent makes it to the finish line before you, the opposite team gets a point. Simple, right? Wrong. It's all about speed, agility, and, most importantly, not blowing it. If you fail… well, you're just gonna have to watch your teammates clean up the mess. All clear? Good, now I'll be keeping score, of course," Chris adds with a smirk. "And remember, just like last time, this is for bragging rights and nothing else. But hey, who doesn't love a good challenge, right?"

The teams exchange looks, both nervous and determined, knowing that no matter what, Chris is going to make them regret every decision they've ever made to get on this show.

Chris claps his hands together, his grin widening as he glances between the two contestants.

"Alright! Stepping up for The Underdogs first is… Zoey!" He pauses for dramatic effect as Zoey steps forward, rolling her shoulders and trying to shake off the nerves. "And facing her from The Dominators… Shawn!"

Shawn smirks confidently, cracking his knuckles as he eyes the course like he's about to enter a zombie apocalypse training ground. Zoey gives him a small nod of respect, though her eyes are already darting around, mapping out the best way through the obstacle course.

Chris dramatically gestures toward the massive, chaotic course, his eyes sparkling with mischievous excitement. "Alright, Zoey and Shawn—get ready for the ultimate showdown of speed, skill, and complete chaos! But before you dive headfirst into the madness, let me give you a breakdown of what's ahead. First up, the 'Spinning Wheel of Wipeout'! What's an obstacle course without a giant spinning deathtrap? Nothing, I tell you! Look at that monstrosity!" Chris gestures grandly toward the colossal wheel, its massive blades slicing through the air at terrifying speed. "This baby spins faster than a roller coaster, and attached to it are these precarious platforms. One false step, and you'll be launched straight into that pit of mud below, where I'm sure you'll make some lovely new friends."

Chris's smirk deepens. "Next up: The Exploding Tire Run! A long stretch of tires, some of which are rigged to explode with bursts of colored smoke when you step on them. It's a test of precision and courage—one wrong move, and you're eating dirt!" He chuckles darkly, enjoying the moment.

"And finally," Chris continues, his voice dropping to a dramatic whisper, "The Grand Finale: The Detonator Dive! A mad dash to the finish line, where you'll dodge swinging wrecking balls, random fireworks that go off without warning, and you'll have to take a heroic leap onto the final platform… only for it to disappear beneath your feet! Can you survive? Will you make it? Or will you crumble under the pressure?" Chris looks between the two competitors, his grin widening like a shark. "No pressure, of course. Just… don't die. Or do. Either way, it's gonna be hilarious."

Zoey's jaw tightens as she nods, trying to contain the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Shawn smirks, his trademark cocky attitude in full force, his fingers adjusting his headband with a confidence that makes the other contestants groan in unison.

"Alright, let's make this official," Chris says, crossing his arms. "Zoey, Zombie Boy—you know the drill. Survive, and beat each other. First one across the finish line wins a point for their team. Think you can handle it?"

Zoey shoots a glance at Shawn, her breath quickening. "I've got this," she whispers, barely audible over the buzz of the crowd.

Shawn chuckles darkly, the competitive fire in his eyes burning brighter. "We'll see about that, won't we?"

"Excellent!" Chris announces with a devilish grin. "Then let's get this chaos started!"

He raises his arm in the air, pausing for dramatic effect, the entire course still, like a loaded gun waiting to fire. The tension is almost unbearable.

"On your marks… get set… GO!"

The sound of the airhorn splits the silence like a crack of thunder, and in an instant, Zoey and Shawn launch themselves toward the first obstacle—the Spinning Wheel of Wipeout. The crowd roars to life, screaming, cheering, and taunting as the two contestants hurtle toward the wheel, their legs pumping furiously beneath them.

"Go Zoey!" Duncan shouts from the sidelines, waving his arms in the air, his voice a mix of excitement and confidence. "Show 'em how it's done!"

The wheel spins faster than anyone could have imagined. Its massive blades gleam under the sunlight, casting fast-moving shadows across the course like a predator circling its prey. Zoey's face is a mask of focus and determination as she nears the wheel, while Shawn's usual cocky grin turns into a more serious expression, his every step deliberate.

Zoey reaches the spinning beast first, her body moving with precise synchronization, her legs powering her forward as she stretches for the flag hanging from the top of the wheel. The crowd holds its breath. For a split second, it looks like she'll miss—but no! She catches the edge of the platform, her other hand gripping the wheel's side for balance. She can feel the wheel's momentum pulling her off course, but with a quick spin of her body, she manages to land on her feet, flag triumphantly raised high above her head.

"YES!" Zoey screams, her voice full of victory as she dashes toward the starting line, her heart racing. The crowd erupts into cheers, the sound deafening.

Shawn, just a few steps behind, isn't so lucky. His legs wobble as he reaches the wheel, the centrifugal force making him stagger. The momentum sends him tumbling forward, his body twisting in mid-air as he crashes into the soft mat below with a thud.

"Ow! What the—" Shawn groans, rolling to his feet, his face contorting in frustration. His pride takes a hit, but he's not about to let that stop him. With a scowl, he keeps going, stumbling slightly as he gets his footing. The crowd watches, some gasping, others laughing at his struggle. He takes off toward the line, clearly out of breath, but determined to finish.

Zoey reaches the starting line first, her chest rising and falling with each breath, but her face is alight with determination. She barely has time to revel in the lead before arriving at the second part of the obstacle course: The Exploding Tire Run!

As soon as she steps into the first tire, a firework detonates beside her, the blast rattling her bones and knocking her off balance. She stumbles, falling hard into the mud, a sharp jolt shooting up her leg.

"AGH!" Zoey grimaces as she clutches her ankle, pain flaring for a brief moment before dulling.

"Zoey is down! Will Shawn be able to seize this point for his team?" Chris bellows through his megaphone, amping up the tension.

Zoey grits her teeth, shaking her head. No... come on, Zoey. You've dealt with worse before. Get up, get up, get up! She forces herself to move, but the impact of the fall seems to have temporarily paralyzed her limbs. "Ugh... come on!"

She struggles against it, trying to will her body to cooperate, but in that moment—

"Now's my chance..." Shawn mutters, speeding past her with a determined glint in his eyes.

"Shawn has overtaken Zoey! Looks like all those years of preparing for a zombie apocalypse are finally paying off! But will Zoey be able to make a comeback?" Chris's voice booms across the course.

Shawn moves with surprising agility, leaping from tire to tire, even triggering a few fireworks without losing momentum. He's gaining ground fast, and for a moment, it looks like he might take the win.

But then—

Zoey exhales sharply as feeling rushes back into her limbs. Finally!

"Zoey is back on her feet! Will she be able to pass Shawn?!"

Chris screams once again.

"Almost there, and—" she groans, pushing through the last bit of resistance in her body before springing to her feet. "YES! Now I really need to focus!"

Confessional: Zoey

The Underdogs

"This is even tougher than the 'Obsta-Kill Kourse' from All-Stars… this version literally paralyzed me! But I can't let that stop me—I need to win this for my team! Besides, I'd never live it down if I lost to a guy who's spent more than half his life preparing for a zombie apocalypse… seriously."

Back on the course, Zoey pushes through the rest of the tires with newfound determination, her movements quick and precise. Fireworks explode around her, but she dodges the blasts with ease, hopping over hidden mines and landing each step perfectly.

She's closing in on Shawn, just a few steps behind him now. But catching up isn't enough—she needs to pass him.

Her eyes dart around, scanning for an opening. That's when she notices it—Shawn's movements are calculated, but he's always taking the safest route. If she's willing to take a risk, she might be able to cut ahead.

Gotta think fast!

Without hesitation, Zoey makes her move, leaping into the air and landing on the edge of one of the tires instead of stepping inside it. The unstable landing almost sends her tumbling again, but she corrects herself just in time, using her momentum to propel forward.

Chris lets out a dramatic gasp. "WHOA! Look at that! Zoey's pulling off some ninja-style maneuvering! Can she use this to her advantage?!"

Shawn glances over his shoulder, his eyes widening. "What?!"

Zoey smirks. "Nothing personal, Shawn—but I'm taking the lead!"

She leaps forward once more, pushing past him just as they near the end of the tire run. But the next challenge is right ahead, and it's even worse than the last.

"HAH! I DID IT!" Zoey exclaims, reaching the final part of the course: The Detonator Dive! "Oh no.." She says to herself as she looks at this part: it looks insane..

Zoey lands ahead of Shawn, her heart pounding as she skids forward, her eyes locking onto the final stretch of the obstacle course.

The Detonator Dive.

She doesn't have time to think. No time to strategize. The finish line is right there, but between her and victory stand swinging wrecking balls, fireworks primed to explode at random, and a single, treacherous platform at the end—one that won't be there for long.

Shawn catches up beside her, flashing a confident grin despite the chaos unfolding ahead. "Oh yeah, now this is what I'm talking about!" His eyes gleam with excitement. "Dodging hazards, sprinting for survival—this is classic apocalypse training!"

Zoey breathes hard, wiping mud from her cheek. "Yeah yeah yeah, less talking, more running!"

Neither of them hesitates. They charge forward.

WHOOSH!

A massive wrecking ball swings down hard from the left, its thick metal surface cutting through the air with a terrifying whoosh. Zoey drops into a slide at the last second, dirt scraping against her arms as the wrecking ball barely misses her head.

Shawn, instead of ducking, leaps sideways, rolling to his feet with ease. "Hah! Too slow!"

BOOM!

A firework detonates just ahead, sending a blinding shower of sparks into the air. The explosion rattles Zoey's bones, but she doesn't stop. She shields her face, pushing through the heat, while Shawn weaves through the smoke like it's second nature.

"Better keep up, Zoey!" he teases, dodging another wrecking ball with an effortless sidestep.

Zoey growls, pumping her arms harder. "Don't count me out yet!"

Another wrecking ball swings fast from the right. She spots it just in time and jumps, her legs tucking beneath her as she barely clears it. The second her feet hit the ground, she pushes forward, ignoring the burn in her muscles.

Chris's voice booms over the speakers. "WHOA! Zoey's pulling out some next-level dodging moves! But can she close the gap before Shawn snags the win?!"

Zoey doesn't even process the words. She only has one thought in her head: Move. Faster.

Shawn is still ahead.

Her breath is ragged, her heartbeat pounding in her ears as she forces her legs to go even faster.

Up ahead—the final platform.

It looks solid. Secure. A promise of victory. But she knows the second they land on it, it'll vanish beneath them.

One chance.

One shot.

Shawn glances at her, eyes narrowing as he realizes she's closing the distance. "Not happening!" he shouts, pushing himself into a final sprint.

BOOM!

A final firework detonates right beside them, the explosion ripping through the air like a cannon blast.

Zoey stumbles, the shockwave knocking her off balance.

Shawn flails, nearly losing his footing as well.

It doesn't matter. They both throw themselves forward in one last, desperate leap.. their arms stretch out.. their feet slam onto the platform.. Zoey jumps right in time. But Shawn was too late, as he falls beneath the platform.

"HAH! I GOT THIS IN THE BAG!" Zoey exclaims as she continues to dominate the course. And she passes the finish line with ease.

Confessional: Zoey

The Underdogs

"Ugh, am I being too harsh? Sorry! It's just—the whole team is counting on me right now! That kind of pressure gets to you, y'know? I have to give it my all! I can't let Zombie Boy win… not when it means this much!"

Chris, standing at the side with a twisted grin, claps his hands. "And that's round one! Zoey takes it, scoring a point for The Underdogs! But don't count Shawn out just yet—he almost made it! That's 1-0 Dominators!" He pauses for a moment, letting the suspense build before continuing, "Now, let's see what the next round has in store. Who's up next?"

"Yes!" Zoey says, celebrating before looking at Shawn. "Sorry Shawn!"

The crowd is buzzing with excitement, knowing that this challenge is far from over and the drama is just beginning.

Meanwhile, Courtney lingered at the back of the group, her earlier emotions still weighing on her. She barely noticed the next pair stepping up to the start line. Her mind was too occupied by the words Duncan had thrown at her, the stinging silence that followed, and the overwhelming sensation of being completely out of place.

"I can do this," she muttered under her breath, tightening her fists.

Confessional: Courtney

The Underdogs

"He cut me off… he really cut me off. I… I never thought he'd do that. I thought, maybe, we could work through things, but… no. He was done. Just like that," she says, her voice barely above a whisper, the hurt clearly lingering. She shifts uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact with the camera for a moment as she fights back the emotion. "It's just… I can't stop thinking about it. How he ended things. I mean, yeah, I probably deserved it, but it still hurts. It… it feels like I'm invisible now." She finally looks up at the camera, her expression drained. "And now, I'm supposed to compete? Be all 'team spirit' and 'let's win'? How? How am I supposed to do that when I feel like I'm falling apart on the inside? I can't focus. I don't even know if I can give it my best… not after all this."

She exhales shakily, rubbing her forehead as if trying to wipe away the weight of it all. "I don't know how I'm supposed to perform in this challenge. Not with everything going on. I just feel… empty. And that's not a good headspace for competition."

As the next round of the Obsta-Kill Kourse began, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation. The energy was electric, and the tension between the teams was palpable. The Dominators had just lost the first round to The Underdogs, and they were determined to turn things around.

Geoff, ever the showman, stood tall at the starting line, cracking his neck and flashing his trademark cocky grin at his opponent, Gwen. "You ready to lose, Gwen?" he teased, his confidence unwavering.

"Not this time, Geoff," Gwen shot back, her eyes burning with determination. She'd been feeling off lately, but something about this challenge reignited her competitive spirit. She wasn't about to let Geoff outshine her.

Chris stood with a wide grin, his excitement bubbling over. "And they're off!" he announced, raising his hand as the air horn blared. Both Geoff and Gwen sprinted forward, their feet pounding against the ground as they rushed toward the first obstacle: the infamous Spinning Wheel of Wipeout.

The massive, rotating wheel stood ahead of them like a mechanical monster, its blades spinning with terrifying speed. Between the wheel and the finish line, there were more obstacles waiting to trip them up—the swinging ropes of doom, ready to test their timing and balance.

Gwen, ever nimble and light on her feet, made a strong start, darting through the ropes and past the first few obstacles with ease. Her movements were quick and calculated, her focus laser-sharp. As she neared the spinning wheel, her breath hitched with the challenge ahead.

Geoff, on the other hand, wasn't as quick to get through the obstacles, but his long strides made up for it. His muscles flexed with each step, and with a cocky grin plastered across his face, he powered through, gaining ground with every second.

When they reached the wheel, Gwen's speed brought her right up to the massive spinning blades. Without hesitation, she dropped into a crouch and sprinted toward the next part. The wheel was moving at a dizzying pace, but Gwen had perfect timing—until it suddenly jerked. The wheel shifted erratically, throwing Gwen off balance. Her fingers grazed the next platform, but the sudden jolt of the wheel sent her sprawling across the mat with a loud thud.

"NO!" Gwen yelled, frustration ringing in her voice as she slid across the mat.

Geoff, however, was not about to let this moment slip. As he approached the wheel, he saw the way Gwen had struggled. Instead of trying to time it like she did, Geoff used his sheer strength. With a powerful leap, he jumped onto the wheel itself, swinging his body onto its side as it rotated beneath him. His muscles strained against the wheel's relentless spin, but Geoff held on, his focus unshaken.

"OOOH!" Chris shouted with excitement, his eyes glued to the spectacle. "Geoff's going for the risky play! Will it work? Or will Gwen find a way to outsmart him?"

Geoff swung his body around the wheel.. His arms burned with effort, but with a final surge of power, he made it to the next part.

"YES!" Geoff shouted, his voice filled with victory as he clung to the wheel, grinning from ear to ear.

Geoff ran through the exploding tires with ease, slightly losing his footing but still managing to run.

"HOW ARE YOU DOING THIS?" Gwen exclaims as she runs through the tires, losing her footing as she steps through nearly every single tire.

Gwen steps on a tire that flings her away into the mud. "CRAP!"

She lands in the mud, attempting to get up quickly but cannot immediately get up because of the impact of the fall. "C'mon, c'mon.."

"Looks like Gwen is down! Will she be able to get up and surpass Geoff to earn this point for The Underdogs? Doesn't look like it now, but we'll see!" Chris exclaims through the megaphone.

Finally finding the strength to get up, she gets up and carefully runs tire through tire, watching her surroundings to ensure she does not fall or step on another tire.

She finally finishes the exploding tire part, moving onto The Detonator Dive.. only to find out Geoff is already almost at the end. But it all depends on that last platform.. she prays that it falls..

She barely dodges a wrecking ball that almost hit her, and it almost knocked her off the platform; but she remains strong and continues to run. Unfortunately, Geoff made the jump from the platform to the finish line..

"NO!" Gwen screams..

Once she makes it to the platform, she couldn't help but laugh at the situation. She had been so close, but in the end, it was Geoff's sheer force and willpower that won him the point.

"Good job, man," Gwen said with a wry smile. "You earned that one."

Confessional: Gwen

The Underdogs

"Okay but seriously — why was that course actually so hard? Chris is really making us earn that 2 million.. guess it makes sense though.. this is the season with the most contestants, 'biggest' season yet.. but still, dude is pushing us to the max.."

Chris jogged over to them, microphone in hand, beaming. "Well, folks, it looks like The Dominators have scored a point! That's 1-1, the teams are tied! Who's up next?"

Heather and Alejandro stood at the starting line, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife. The crowd could feel the weight of it in the air—this was more than just a competition. This was personal.

The history between Alejandro and Heather stretched all the way back to World Tour, a rollercoaster of manipulation, deceit, and an undeniable, yet unspoken, attraction. At one point, they had been allies, then bitter enemies, and sometimes something in between—each one trying to outwit the other for their own gain. But today, there was no room for old games. It was just the two of them, standing on the same line, ready to prove something—once and for all.

Heather stood tall, her posture commanding, but her icy stare locked onto Alejandro, distrust simmering behind her gaze. She'd long since left behind the girl he'd tried to control and manipulate, but the scars remained. She wasn't about to forget how he had tried to play her as his pawn.

Alejandro, as always, wore his signature smug grin, adjusting his shirt nonchalantly. "I must admit, Heather," he said with that smooth, almost insidious voice of his, "I didn't expect you to get this far."

Heather's lips curled into a confident smirk. "I'm full of surprises, Alejandro. You should've figured that out by now."

Alejandro leaned in slightly, his gaze playful yet calculating. "So, what's going on with you and Duncan, huh? That's definitely a surprise there.."

The mention of Duncan sent a flush to Heather's cheeks, and she quickly snapped back, her voice sharp. "UGH, Duncan and I are NOT together!" she snapped, trying to hide the blush creeping up her neck. Damn it, she cursed inwardly. This was not the time to think about that.

Confessional: Alejandro

The Dominators

"Interesting.. I never said anything about them being together.. oh Heather.. you naive fool.."

Chris's voice blared over the loudspeakers, cutting through the charged atmosphere. "Alright, contestants! You know the drill—first one to the flag and across the finish line wins it for their team! And remember—this is Total Drama! Anything goes!"

The air horn blared, and in an instant, Heather and Alejandro were off, charging toward the first obstacle—the spinning wheel. The crowd roared as the two contestants raced toward the challenge, eyes locked in fierce competition.

Heather, ever the strategist, pushed herself forward with precision and focus. She was quick and agile, expertly dodging the swinging ropes that came before the wheel, her body perfectly synchronized with each movement. Alejandro, on the other hand, moved like a force of nature, his long legs eating up the ground as he powered through the obstacles, keeping pace with Heather.

As they reached the spinning wheel, Heather's heart raced. She'd been through challenges like this before, but never with someone like Alejandro at her heels. She knew his mind games, and she wasn't going to fall for them again.

Alejandro, sensing her determination, couldn't resist throwing in a taunt. "You've always relied on your brains, Heather. Let's see how far that'll get you this time."

Heather shot him a glare but didn't let it distract her. Her eyes never wavered from the spinning wheel, timing her jump with deadly precision. She leapt onto the wheel, her hands gripping the bars as she swung herself onto it, the wheel jerking under her weight. Her body moved with calculated grace as she climbed toward the top.

Alejandro wasn't far behind. He, too, jumped onto the wheel, using his strength and athleticism to navigate the spinning blades. His movements were fluid, but Heather had already gained the lead, her gaze fixed on the finish line pretty far ahead.

The tension between them was electric. They both tied in reaching The Exploding Tire Run. Alejandro began messing up on this part, accidentally stepping on the mines, causing them to explode and him to lose his footing. This puts him in a disadvantage as Heather passes him with ease.

"HAH! How easy is this?!" Heather said as she ran through the section easily.

"Heather has successfully surpassed Alejandro!" Chris announces through the megaphone once again. "

"Man I love this game.." Chris says to himself, watching the drama unfold.

"Go Heather! Show la cucaracha who's boss!" Duncan exclaims from the crowd.

Duncan's cheer unsurprisingly motivates Heather to move even faster.

"NO! COME ON.." Alejandro says, just making The Detonator Dive.

He's met with a swinging wrecking ball to the face.. ouch.

"AH! MY SEXY FACE!" Alejandro exclaims.

"OOH.. looks like Alejandro's down! Heather's basically got this in the bag!" Chris screams.

Alejandro hit the ground with a hard thud, frustration flashing in his eyes as he scrambled to get up. "You always did have an unfair advantage, Heather," he muttered, his voice tight with irritation.

Heather, her pulse still racing from the adrenaline, didn't even acknowledge his words. She had done it—she had beaten Alejandro, and she wasn't going to let him get in her head again. She had something to prove, and this victory was just the beginning.

Chris jogged up to them, microphone in hand, his grin wide as he looked at the contestants. "And there you have it, folks! Heather wins it for The Underdogs in a thrilling round! The score is now 2-1! Looks like they'll need to dig deep if they want to catch up!"

Heather couldn't help but smile at the sound of her team's cheers. This victory was personal, a reminder that she wasn't just here to play—it was time for her to prove she was the one in control.

As Alejandro limped back to his team, the frustration in his eyes was unmistakable. This wasn't over. It couldn't be. And as much as he hated to admit it, Heather had gotten the better of him this time.

But he'd be back. He always was.

Sammy stood at the starting line, her muscles tense with a mixture of determination and hesitation. She could feel the weight of everyone's expectations pressing on her shoulders, and it was a familiar feeling—being overshadowed by her sister, Amy, who always seemed to take the spotlight. But Sammy wasn't just Amy's shadow. She had proven herself time and time again, and this was her moment to step out of that shadow and show everyone what she was really capable of.

Across from her, Anne Maria was a force to be reckoned with. She stood confidently, arms crossed, wearing her signature tough-girl smirk. There was no mistaking it—Anne Maria didn't care who was watching. She was ready to crush anyone in her path, and she had no problem letting everyone know it. Sammy had always been the quieter one, more reserved, more calculated, while Anne Maria thrived on chaos and confrontation. But this time, Sammy wasn't going to let her brash attitude rattle her.

Sammy shot Anne Maria a quick, pointed glance. "You're going down, Anne Maria," she muttered under her breath, her voice quiet but filled with an intensity that couldn't be ignored. She was speaking more to herself than anything, but she was ready to prove it.

Anne Maria laughed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Her grin stretched wide, full of mischief and mockery. "Keep dreamin', girl. You're gonna have to do a lot more than talk to take me down."

The tension between them was palpable. Sammy's quiet resolve was the perfect contrast to Anne Maria's loud, brash confidence. Both of them wanted this victory more than anything. And with the crowd watching, the stakes were higher than ever.

"Alright, you two," Chris's voice rang out, cutting through the charged atmosphere like a whip. "Time to get this challenge rolling. On your mark, get set… GO!"

The moment the air horn blared, Sammy sprang into action, her legs pumping beneath her with surprising speed. The crowd gasped as she surged ahead, her movement fluid and fast, almost like a blur. Anne Maria, caught off guard for a second, gritted her teeth in frustration. Sammy was quicker than she'd anticipated.

"Whoa, what's this?" Anne Maria muttered under her breath, her competitive spirit igniting. She gritted her teeth, pushing herself forward, determined not to let Sammy get the upper hand.

Sammy didn't slow down. She was in the zone, her heart pounding with excitement, her focus razor-sharp. She could hear Anne Maria's loud footsteps behind her, but she refused to let the pressure get to her. The first obstacle loomed ahead—a massive swinging pendulum, the kind that could easily knock someone off their feet if they weren't careful. Sammy didn't hesitate. She timed her movement perfectly, ducking and weaving through the swinging blades with incredible precision. She was out the other side before Anne Maria could even reach it.

Anne Maria, however, wasn't about to let Sammy show her up. With a smirk, she barreled straight toward the pendulum, her sheer strength pushing her forward as she swung herself around the obstacle with a savage determination. "You think you can dodge this, Sammy? Bring it on!" she shouted, her voice thick with confidence as she picked up speed.

But Sammy's pace was unrelenting. She had made it through the pendulum without breaking stride, and as Anne Maria finally cleared the obstacle, Sammy was already ahead—just a step closer to victory. Her heart raced as she pushed herself through the next obstacle: the exploding tires. Anne Maria charged at it, her brute force pushing her through the tires, barely slowing down as she plowed through them, but nonetheless she wasn't touching them and was in the lead so what did being careful matter? Sammy, however, had a different approach. She was quick on her feet, her body twisting and ducking with precision as she carefully navigated the tires. Her movements were smooth and calculated, each step taken with purpose.

The crowd was on the edge of their seats as the two women neared the final stretch. Anne Maria's loud footsteps reverberated behind Sammy, and it was clear that the challenge was far from over. Anne Maria's breath was heavy, her muscles straining with each move, but she wasn't giving up. She was closing in.

The finish line came into view, and Sammy could feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins, every beat of her heart urging her to go faster. Anne Maria was right behind her now, only a few feet away, but Sammy's focus had never been sharper. She could hear Anne Maria's taunts growing louder, but all Sammy could think about was crossing that line.

With a final, explosive push, Sammy surged forward, her body stretching out toward the finish line. The air seemed to crackle with energy as she threw herself at the end, her arms reaching for victory. Anne Maria was right there, inches away, but Sammy's speed and laser-like focus paid off. She crossed the line just ahead of Anne Maria, the roar of the crowd shaking the ground beneath them.

The air horn blared, signaling the end of the round, and the crowd erupted into cheers. Chris's voice boomed over the loudspeaker. "And that's it! Sammy wins this one! The score is now 2-2, Dominators!"

Sammy stood panting at the finish line, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh of relief, her heart racing with triumph. She had done it. She had beaten Anne Maria—and she'd done it on her own terms.

Sammy stood there for a moment, panting and wide-eyed, trying to catch her breath.

Sammy's chest heaved as she stared at the challenge she had just conquered. Her heart was still racing, adrenaline pumping through her veins.

"I did it?" she breathed, almost in disbelief. Then, as the realization sank in, a wide, triumphant grin spread across her face. "I did it!"

She tried to push herself up, but the lingering fear had left her legs weak and trembling. The moment she put weight on them, they buckled beneath her, sending her right back down.

"Ow…" she muttered, wincing as she rubbed her sore backside.

Even so, she couldn't stop smiling. For once, she had proven—to herself and to everyone else—that she was stronger than they thought.

The victory felt sweet, but there was no time to bask in it. Anne Maria was right behind her, looking furious, her face reddened with both exhaustion and frustration.

"You got lucky, Sammy!" Anne Maria snapped, hands on her hips. "This isn't over."

Confessional: Sammy

The Dominators

"I am so loving this season! I'm really glad Chris didn't bring Amy back, because now everyone gets to see me! This could actually be my season now that she's not here hogging all the attention! Oh my gosh!" she says, her face lighting up with excitement.

Chris grinned from ear to ear as he stood at the starting line, his eyes glinting with excitement. "And now, folks, it's time for the battle of the pretties! We've got Dakota versus Lindsay!"

The crowd erupted into cheers, many of them excited to see the two bombshells face off. Dakota stood at the line, her eyes narrowed in fierce determination. She was no stranger to competition, and despite her bubbly persona, she had the heart of a warrior. Meanwhile, Lindsay was as confident as ever, flashing a radiant smile as she tossed her hair over her shoulder, ready to show off her charm and athleticism.

"Good luck, Dakota!" Lindsay chirped with a wink, clearly enjoying the friendly competition, though it was clear she was expecting to win.

Dakota shot her a look that was equal parts playful and competitive. "You better bring it, Lindsay. I'm not going easy on you!"

Chris stood with his arms outstretched, relishing the tension between the two contestants. "Alright, girls! This challenge isn't going to make it easy for you—so get ready to face the fury of The Obsta-Kill Kourse! On your marks… get set… GO!"

The air horn blared, and in an instant, both Dakota and Lindsay were off, sprinting towards the first obstacle—the Spinning Wheel of Wipeout.

The colossal wheel spun at a mind-boggling speed, its rotating blades cutting through the air like a force of nature. Dakota, never one to shy away from a challenge, was quick to leap toward the wheel, jumping onto one of the small platforms attached to the spinning mass. Lindsay followed close behind, her movements graceful but a little less fluid than Dakota's.

"Look at them go, folks!" Chris called out, his voice laced with excitement. "Who will make it through this first obstacle unscathed?"

Dakota seemed to have the advantage, her body moving with agility and precision as she maneuvered herself onto another platform. But just as she reached for the platform, the wheel jolted with a sudden shift, sending her tumbling backward into the air.

"Ahh!" Dakota cried out, but she quickly recovered, landing in the mud pit below with a dramatic splash. "Ugh, seriously?!" She scrambled to her feet, her face a mix of frustration and determination.

Lindsay, on the other hand, had taken a more cautious approach, holding back as the wheel spun. Her hesitation proved to be her downfall, as one of the platforms tilted unexpectedly beneath her feet. Before she could react, she was flung off balance and sent crashing into the mud, her screams echoing through the course.

The crowd roared with laughter as both girls found themselves struggling to recover. Chris couldn't help but add, "I think it's safe to say, neither of our 'pretty' contestants is looking too graceful right now!"

Lindsay groaned as she picked herself up from the pit. "This is not how I imagined it going…" She wiped the mud off her face with a grimace.

Dakota, however, was already back on her feet and laughing. "Hey, at least I'm not the only one in the mud!"

With both contestants covered in mud, they quickly made their way toward the next obstacle—The Exploding Tire Run. The tires lay in a chaotic pattern, some of which were rigged to explode with bursts of colored smoke when stepped on.

Chris stood by, watching the two competitors carefully. "Now, remember, girls—one wrong step, and you'll be eating smoke and dirt! Good luck!" He snickered, clearly enjoying the chaos unfolding.

Dakota took the lead this time, carefully placing her feet on the tires, avoiding the exploding ones. Lindsay tried to keep up, but her timing was slightly off, and with a loud pop, one of the tires erupted with a cloud of blue smoke, sending Lindsay stumbling backward.

"Whoa!" Lindsay shouted as she waved away the smoke, but it only made her more determined. "I'm not going down that easily!"

The two girls raced past the tires, finally reaching the last obstacle—the Detonator Dive. The swinging wrecking balls loomed ahead, and random fireworks shot into the sky unpredictably, adding an element of chaos to an already insane challenge.

"Here we go, ladies!" Chris shouted, egging them on. "Dodge the wrecking balls, avoid the fireworks, and leap onto the final platform before it disappears! First one there wins!"

Dakota and Lindsay both eyed the swinging wrecking balls warily, timing their moves carefully. With a sharp gasp, Dakota ducked just as one of the balls swung perilously close to her, but she made it through unscathed. Lindsay, however, wasn't as lucky—she barely managed to dodge another swinging ball, but the momentum knocked her off her feet, sending her tumbling to the ground.

Dakota was almost there. Her heart raced as she sprinted toward the final platform, a leap of faith standing between her and victory. With one last surge of adrenaline, she leaped into the air, just as the platform started to sink.

She landed perfectly, the crowd erupting in cheers. "YES!" Dakota screamed, raising her arms in triumph.

Lindsay, still recovering from her fall, could only watch as Dakota crossed the finish line.

Chris walked up to the victorious Dakota, his smile as wide as ever. "And there you have it, folks! Dakota wins this round for The Underdogs! That's 3-2, Underdogs lead! However, it's still anyone's game!"

Confessional: Dakota

The Underdogs

"Okay, so… this is NOT how I wanted to look today. I mean, I'm covered in MUD. I can't even look at myself right now without wanting to scream. It took everything in me to not freak out during that challenge. The mud, the mess, the humiliation… how am I supposed to look good in front of the camera like this? I know they say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but… like… no. I feel like a walking dirt pile. The worst part? I can't even get rid of the smell. So, yeah. I'm probably going to have a meltdown later. Ugh. And you know what? It's fine. I'm fine. I'm not going to let this mess stop me. I just need to get back in the game. But seriously, if I ever get another challenge with mud, I swear I'll just throw myself into the pit of despair instead. Man.. I miss Sam."

Confessional: Lindsay

The Dominators

Lindsay is casually sitting with a giant grin on her face, covered head to toe in mud but looking surprisingly content.

"Oh my gosh, you guys! Mud is like, so good for your skin. I've read all about it! It's like a natural exfoliant, you know? So, even though I look like a complete mess right now, my skin is gonna be so smooth. Like, I could seriously be glowing after this. I'm kind of into it! I mean, yeah, it's a little weird, but hey, I'm in a competition, so whatever. If I get muddy, at least I'm doing my skin a favor, right? Plus, this is nothing. I've seen worse—especially after a beach day. So… bring on the mud, guys. I can totally handle it! Honestly, it's just another day at the spa for me."

The crowd is buzzing with excitement as Duncan and Scarlett step up to face off. The tension between them is thick, but not for the usual reasons. Duncan's cocky attitude and laid-back demeanor have always rubbed Scarlett the wrong way, and Scarlett's cold, calculated nature has never sat well with Duncan. The air is electric, as everyone knows that these two won't just battle the obstacles—they'll battle each other.

Chris grins widely from the sidelines. "Ladies and gentlemen, it's time for the battle of the tough and the tactical! Will Duncan's reckless abandon carry him through, or will Scarlett's calculating mind prove too much to handle? Let's find out!"

The air horn blasts, and with that, they're off.

Duncan charges forward with his usual chaotic energy, not even hesitating as he makes a beeline for the spinning wheel. Scarlett takes a more cautious approach, eyes narrowing as she calculates the timing of the wheel's rotation.

"C'mon, Scarlett!" Duncan taunts over his shoulder. "You gonna stand there and analyze it all day or actually jump in?"

Scarlett, unfazed, smirks. "You're just too reckless, Duncan. You'll get yourself hurt."

With a swift leap, Duncan jumps onto the spinning wheel, immediately slipping as the momentum shifts. He catches himself but the wheel sends him flailing, his arms flapping wildly. He somehow stays on, laughing as he struggles to stabilize himself, a wild grin on his face.

Scarlett watches for a moment before making her move. Her timing is perfect—she waits for the exact moment the wheel slows, leaps onto one of the platforms with finesse without so much as breaking a sweat.

"Ha! Too easy!" Scarlett says, her voice dripping with smug satisfaction as she drops to the mat below, quickly sprinting toward the next obstacle.

Duncan isn't about to let Scarlett have all the fun. He sprints ahead, dodging the tires with unpredictable jumps and rolls, laughing at the chaos surrounding him. Tires explode behind him, bursts of colored smoke filling the air as he powers through.

"Boom!" Duncan yells with each explosion, practically daring the tires to catch him.

Scarlett, however, is much more calculated. She uses her sharp reflexes to avoid the exploding tires with precision, stepping carefully from one tire to the next. Her focus is intense as she maneuvers through the rigged section with hardly a misstep, but she's not taking any unnecessary risks.

"Don't be so careful, Scarlett," Duncan calls from behind, "you're gonna make it boring!"

Scarlett narrows her eyes but keeps her pace steady. "Not all of us are reckless enough to end up in the mud."

The final stretch approaches, and both contestants have made it to the last obstacle. The Detonator Dive looms in front of them: swinging wrecking balls, random fireworks, and the disappearing platform just ahead.

Duncan takes a deep breath and charges in. He dodges one wrecking ball, narrowly avoids another, and leaps over a burst of fireworks that almost singes his hair. With reckless abandon, he takes a flying leap toward the final platform—only to have it vanish beneath his feet as soon as he lands. He tumbles but manages to roll with the fall and land on his feet, barely avoiding the pit below.

Scarlett is more methodical. She takes her time, timing each swing of the wrecking balls and each firework with a careful eye. She ducks under one ball, steps around another, and calmly makes her way to the disappearing platform. As she nears it, she leaps—graceful and controlled—and lands perfectly on the mat, a triumphant smile on her face.

"Well folks, that's it! Scarlett takes this one with a masterful display of strategy! Duncan, however, gave us quite the show with his reckless energy. It's 3-3, Dominators! Once again, the teams are tied! The Underdogs will have to bring their A-game next round!"

The crowd cheers and groans in equal parts as Duncan and Scarlett each catch their breath.

Duncan grins despite his loss. "You're good, Scarlett. Not bad for a brainiac."

Scarlett smiles back, wiping mud from her hands. "And you're not half bad yourself… for someone who doesn't seem to care about winning."

The crowd is buzzing with anticipation as Bridgette and Sierra take their positions at the starting line. These two may have a shared love for the environment, but when it comes to competition, they couldn't be more different. Bridgette, laid-back and easygoing, has a calming presence, while Sierra, obsessive and high-strung, can barely contain her excitement.

Chris grins, microphone in hand. "It's the ultimate clash of cool and chaotic! Bridgette, the laid-back surfer girl, and Sierra, the fangirl turned competitor—let's see who will make it through The Obsta-Kill Kourse in one piece!"

The air horn blares, and they're off.

Bridgette doesn't hesitate as she speeds toward the spinning wheel. She surfs through the obstacle with ease, her movements graceful and fluid. Her focus is calm, and even as the wheel jerks under her weight, she's able to keep her balance and jump to the next platform without breaking a sweat.

Sierra, on the other hand, practically throws herself onto the wheel in a frenzy. Her eyes are wide with excitement, her arms flailing as she struggles to find her footing. "This is SO awesome!" she screams, her voice full of manic energy. But her excitement gets the better of her as she misjudges the wheel's momentum and gets flung off, landing in the mud below with a loud splat.

Bridgette glances back just in time to see Sierra's spectacular faceplant into the mud. She winces but then shakes her head, a small chuckle escaping her lips. "Whoo, okay. That was… something."

Sierra doesn't let the fall deter her. She pulls herself up, covered in mud but grinning ear to ear. "I'm fine! This is great! I love this!" she yells, still bouncing around.

Bridgette makes quick work of the tires, using her agility to nimbly jump and dodge the exploding traps. She's moving fast, but it's effortless. A true surfer at heart, she glides through the obstacle course with the same ease she would a wave, never losing her zen-like composure.

Sierra, on the other hand, is a complete mess. Every step she takes seems to trigger an explosion of colored smoke, sending her flailing in all directions. "Whoa! Oh my gosh, OH MY GOSH!" she shouts, her frantic movements only causing more explosions around her. "I LOVE THIS! It's like a fanfic come to life! Explosions and everything!"

Despite the chaos around her, Sierra somehow manages to keep moving forward, but not without attracting the attention of every tire in her path. The colored smoke lingers in the air, adding to the madness of her progress.

The final challenge arrives, and both contestants are feeling the pressure. Bridgette, who's been calm and composed through the entire course, faces the swinging wrecking balls and unpredictable fireworks with a deep breath. She watches the patterns carefully, dodging the wrecking balls with precision, her surf instincts kicking in as she glides past them. But when the final leap comes, the platform disappears beneath her feet, and she has to roll with the landing. With a graceful tumble, she lands on the mat, looking satisfied but exhausted.

Sierra, on the other hand, isn't taking things nearly as well. Her eyes are wide with wild excitement, her every move frantic. She manages to dodge a wrecking ball, but when she sees a firework rocket into the air, she panics and leaps wildly in the wrong direction. She ends up crashing into a nearby tire, sending her bouncing and tumbling forward. With one last, desperate leap, she makes it onto the platform, but just barely, falling face-first into the mat.

"And that's it, folks! Bridgette pulls off a cool victory for The Underdogs in a smooth finish! But Sierra? Well, she certainly gave us a show, and I'm pretty sure she'll need a little time to recover from that one. It's 4-3 Dominators! Once again, The Underdogs are in the lead!"

The crowd laughs and cheers as Bridgette gives a relaxed wave, while Sierra scrambles to get back up, covered in mud but grinning from ear to ear.

Sierra grins manically, wiping mud off her face. "That was THE BEST. I'm gonna need to write a fanfic about this!"

Bridgette laughs, dusting herself off. "You really had fun with that, huh?"

"OF COURSE!" Sierra shouts. "I'm living for this!"

The tension is thick in the air as Noah and Mike step up to the starting line. Noah, with his trademark sarcastic smirk, is already mentally calculating his every move. On the other hand, Mike, with his multiple personalities at the ready, is prepared for whatever the course throws at him. The crowd can't decide whether to expect dry wit or an intense personality showdown, but one thing's for sure: it's going to be a wild ride.

Chris stands at the ready, his grin wide. "Alright, folks! We've got Noah, the sarcastic strategist, up against Mike, the guy with a whole bunch of personalities!"

As soon as the air horn sounds, Noah shoots a quick glance at Mike before walking toward the wheel with a slow, deliberate pace. "If I don't fall off, I think I've already won," he mutters to himself, keeping his cool demeanor. He doesn't even break a sweat as he waits for the right moment. Noah's movements are calculated, and he jumps onto the spinning wheel with ease. The blades whip around, but Noah seems to barely notice as he walks across the spinning platforms like it's a casual stroll in the park.

Mike, however, isn't quite as calm. His "Svetlana" personality has taken over, and the usually laid-back Mike is now practically bouncing off the walls. "Svetlana the Svetlympic Champion has returned!" he.. or, is it a she now? Anyways, hshouts, practically launching himself at the wheel. But with all the extra energy, Svetlana's wild leap sends him off-balance, and he ends up slipping off the wheel, landing in the mud below with a dramatic splash.

"NO, HOW DID ZE SVETLANA LOSE? SVETLANA DOES NOT LOSE!" He says, quickly getting up and trying to catch up. Surprisingly, Noah's got some moves.

Noah looks over his shoulder, raises an eyebrow, and lets out a smirk. "Well, that was… graceful," he says under his breath, though it's clear he's barely fazed by the drama unfolding behind him.

Noah makes his way through the tires effortlessly, as expected. He steps lightly, almost methodically, avoiding each rigged tire with precision. "Really? Exploding tires? This is what we've come to?" he mutters, clearly unimpressed with the simplicity of the obstacle. He dodges every burst of colored smoke as if it's no big deal. With his quick thinking, he seems to glide through the chaos.

Meanwhile, Mike, now in Vito mode, because his shirt was ripped off by the spinning wheel, charges forward with reckless abandon. "I'm gonna crush this!" he yells, sending a tire flying as he kicks it out of his way. Of course, he doesn't realize that tire was rigged to explode, and it immediately bursts with a loud pop of purple smoke. "Whoops," he says, looking slightly embarrassed as he continues forward, but now with a bit of a panicked look on his face. He careens through the rest of the tires, narrowly missing the next explosion, and finally reaches the end, looking a bit disheveled but still going strong.

The final leg of the challenge is a chaotic mess of wrecking balls and fireworks. Noah, ever the strategist, calmly observes the pattern. He watches the wrecking balls swing and time his moves perfectly to dodge them. His steps are steady, almost too perfect, as he avoids both the swinging wrecking balls and the unpredictable fireworks. "This is just too easy," Noah says to himself with a dry laugh as he effortlessly sails past the obstacles and jumps onto the final platform—landing with the smoothest of landings, barely even ruffling his shirt.

Mike, still in Vito mode, leaps and dodges with frenetic energy, but he's not as calculated as Noah. He swings wildly under a wrecking ball and almost gets knocked back, but somehow manages to recover with the agility of a cat. "I've got this! This is my stage!" Mike yells, narrowly avoiding a firework explosion, and just before the platform disappears, he makes a heroic leap, crashing onto the mat, looking completely disheveled but with a grin plastered on his face.

"And there you have it, folks! Noah cruises through with a masterful finish, while Mike… well, Mike definitely gave us some drama to watch. It's 5-3! Dominators, looks like you guys are falling behindddd!" Chris says teasingly.

Noah dusts himself off, not looking too pleased, but clearly satisfied with the win. "Great. Another round to go. Awesome," he mutters dryly.

The crowd is buzzing as Jasmine and Sky step up to the starting line, ready to face off in the next round of the Obsta-Kill Kourse. Jasmine, as fierce and determined as ever, is focused on proving she belongs at the top. Meanwhile, Sky, with her competitive spirit burning bright, has her eyes locked on the prize. There's a sharp tension in the air as both contestants size each other up—this isn't just another obstacle, it's a battle for supremacy.

Chris raises his mic and grins. "Up next.. we've got Jasmine, the powerhouse, going up against Sky, the determined competitor! Who's gonna come out on top in this crazy challenge? Let's find out!"

As the air horn sounds, both Jasmine and Sky take off like rockets, racing toward the colossal spinning wheel. Jasmine charges ahead, her athletic build carrying her effortlessly toward the wheel. She's quick and surefooted, showing no sign of hesitation. Sky, though fast, is trailing just a bit behind.

The two reach the spinning wheel at nearly the same time, but it's clear Jasmine has the edge when it comes to timing. With a graceful leap, she jumps onto one of the platforms attached to the wheel, landing smoothly, her body shifting as she adapts to the intense spin. Sky is right behind her, but she's struggling with the speed of the wheel, unable to find her rhythm.

Jasmine glances over at Sky with a smirk. "Catch up, if you can!" she taunts, already making her way toward the flag.

Sky grits her teeth, clearly frustrated but determined. She makes another attempt, this time jumping onto the wheel with a bit more force. She's not as graceful as Jasmine, but she's not giving up. Just as she's about to grab the platform, the wheel jerks suddenly, sending her sprawling into the pit of mud below.

"Ugh!" Sky groans as she lands with a heavy splash, her face scrunched in frustration.

Meanwhile, Jasmine triumphantly looked at Sky in the mud, basking in the moment. "Looks like that was too easy," she says under her breath, her confidence soaring as she moves on to the next section of the course.

Now, it's time for the tires. Jasmine moves through the stretch of tires with precision and ease, her movements fluid as she leaps from tire to tire, dodging each explosion with minimal effort. She's focused, taking advantage of every second. The burst of colored smoke doesn't faze her in the slightest—she's in control.

Sky, however, is not so lucky. After her fall into the mud, she's a bit rattled, but that doesn't stop her. She powers through the tires with her trademark determination, but she's clearly not as graceful as Jasmine. The first tire she steps on explodes in a flash of orange smoke, and she nearly stumbles, but she pushes forward, making it through the rest of the tires with sheer grit.

Sky lets out a frustrated breath, but there's no stopping her now. "I'm not letting this get to me!" she mutters, her pace quickening as she nears the end.

It's the final stretch. Both Jasmine and Sky are neck and neck as they approach the wrecking balls and fireworks. Jasmine charges forward with speed and confidence, her eyes locked on the path ahead. She knows how to time her jumps perfectly, and the wrecking balls don't seem to faze her at all. Each leap is calculated, each dodge perfectly executed.

Sky, breathing hard but not willing to back down, uses every bit of energy she has left. She's more frantic than Jasmine, constantly dodging fireworks and swinging wrecking balls with a level of desperation. But the longer she goes, the more erratic her movements become. At one point, a wrecking ball barely misses her by inches, but she keeps going.

With one final leap, Jasmine launches herself onto the disappearing platform, her landing flawless. She throws her arms up in victory, grinning. "That's how it's done!" she shouts, her voice full of triumph.

Sky, just behind her, makes the leap but lands awkwardly, barely managing to catch herself before the platform disappears beneath her feet. She scrambles to the finish line, but it's clear that Jasmine has already claimed victory.

"And there you have it, folks! Jasmine takes the win for The Underdogs in a thrilling round! She flew through that course like a pro, and Sky gave it everything she had! It's 6-3, Dominators! The Underdogs are WAY ahead, but will The Dominators make a comeback? Find out after this!"

After commercial..

The air is thick with tension as Trent and Scott take their positions at the starting line, the crowd already buzzing in anticipation. The stakes are high as both of these competitors have something to prove. Trent, the calm and collected musician, faces off against Scott, the loud, brash competitor who's never afraid to stir the pot.

Chris grins mischievously into the camera. "Alright, folks! Get ready for this battle! Trent, the cool cat with a plan, versus Scott, the guy who charges in like a bull in a china shop! Let's see who takes this one!"

The horn blares, and both Trent and Scott take off. Trent's moves are deliberate and precise as he approaches the spinning wheel, timing his jump onto the first platform with ease. Scott, however, charges in with no hesitation, launching himself onto the wheel in an almost reckless dive, determined to get ahead.

"Looks like Scott's using pure brute force!" Chris comments as Scott swings himself onto the wheel, barely catching hold. The wheel jerks under his weight, but Scott holds on tight, his muscles straining as he makes his way toward the second part.

Trent, on the other hand, is moving with much more finesse. He's focused, his eyes locked on the finish line as he makes his way toward it. But Scott is closing the gap. With a grunt, Scott launches himself into the air, making it to the second part and surpassing Trent just moments before he did. He swings it in triumph, the crowd erupting into cheers.

"Yeah! That's how it's done!" Scott bellows, grinning from ear to ear as he jumps off the wheel and lands with a dramatic flourish. Trent, frustrated but composed, watches as Scott celebrates his victory in the first round.

"That's what happens when you just go for it," Scott says smugly as Trent shoots him a look.

With a loud whoosh, the two competitors move on to the next obstacle—the Exploding Tire Run. Scott barrels into the tire field with all the force of a freight train, his feet pounding the ground as he slams through the tires without hesitation. A burst of red smoke erupts from one of the tires, but Scott doesn't even flinch. He keeps powering through, showing no signs of slowing down.

Trent, ever the strategist, approaches the tires with caution. He steps lightly, dodging the exploding tires with ease, his eyes scanning the field for the safest path. But Scott is already ahead, his aggressive approach putting him in the lead.

"Scott's doing what he does best—charging ahead without second-guessing!" Chris calls out, as Scott stomps through the tires with reckless abandon.

Trent is quick to follow, but Scott's momentum gives him an edge. He powers through the last of the tires and makes a run for the next section, gaining a commanding lead.

The final stretch, the Detonator Dive, is where everything is on the line. Wrecking balls swing wildly overhead, and fireworks explode unpredictably around them as Scott and Trent race toward the finish line.

Scott's adrenaline is at its peak as he barrels forward, dodging the wrecking balls with impressive speed. Trent, however, is no slouch. He keeps up with Scott, narrowly avoiding a flying wrecking ball by inches. The finish line is within reach, and both competitors are giving it their all.

But Scott, with his sheer speed and confidence, launches himself toward the final platform. He makes an incredible leap, his body soaring through the air, narrowly avoiding a last-second explosion of fireworks. With a triumphant landing, Scott crosses the finish line just milliseconds ahead of Trent.

"And there you have it, folks! Scott takes the win for The Dominators in this explosive round! It's 6-4, Dominators—The Underdogs are still in the lead, but the competition is heating up!"

Scott stands tall, breathing heavily but with a triumphant grin plastered across his face. "That's how you finish a race," he says, flexing his arms in victory.

Chris jogs up to them, his mic in hand. "Looks like Scott takes the victory this time, folks! Will The Dominators finally pull ahead, or will The Underdogs hold strong? You won't want to miss the next round!"

The crowd is buzzing with excitement as the next match-up is set. The heavy-hitters of this round are Owen, the lovable giant with a heart of gold, and Ella, the sweet and confident beauty with a strong sense of grace and poise. This battle promises to be an interesting clash of styles—Owen's brute strength against Ella's elegance and precision.

Chris stands at the starting line, grinning. "Alright folks, it's time for the battle of the day! Owen, the man with a stomach as big as his heart, versus Ella, the angelic voice with a fire inside! Who's going to take it? Let's find out!"

The horn sounds, and both competitors sprint toward the spinning wheel. Owen, not known for his grace, charges in with full force, his heavy steps shaking the ground. Ella, with her typical poise, darts forward like a dancer, light on her feet as she approaches the wheel.

"Owen's definitely going for the smash-and-grab approach here!" Chris announces as Owen leaps onto the spinning wheel, using his size to hold on for dear life. Ella, however, gracefully jumps and swings herself onto the wheel, her movements fluid and controlled.

The spinning wheel jerks violently, and Owen, struggling to maintain his balance, loses his grip and is flung into the mud below with an enormous splash. The crowd erupts into laughter as Owen groans from the pit. "Oops," he mutters, his usually carefree demeanor slightly shaken.

Ella, on the other hand, keeps her cool as she swings her way to the finish line with ease. "And that's the first round to Ella!" Chris announces as she floats down to the mat, landing on her feet like a ballerina.

"Owen's gonna need a new strategy!" he adds with a laugh.

Now it's time for the next obstacle—the Exploding Tire Run. Owen, clearly not deterred by his earlier mishap, charges in with his usual gusto. The tires explode in bursts of colorful smoke, but Owen just barrels through, barely even noticing the explosions as he bulldozes his way forward.

Ella, taking a much more careful and graceful approach, gingerly steps over the tires, avoiding the ones rigged to explode. She's quick but cautious, making her way through the tires with minimal disruption. Owen is already ahead, his massive frame pushing through the tire field at full speed, but Ella keeps a steady pace.

"Owen's ahead, but Ella's not giving up just yet!" Chris says, watching as Owen makes it to the end of the tire run first, his face red from exertion but grinning. Ella isn't far behind, though, and she crosses the tire section soon after.

The final stretch—the Detonator Dive—arrives, and it's time for everything to go down. Wrecking balls swing dangerously overhead, and fireworks shoot unpredictably into the sky. The two competitors charge forward, weaving around the wrecking balls as they approach the final platform.

Owen, ever the force of nature, barrels through the chaotic mess, his determination written all over his face. He leaps over a wrecking ball, narrowly dodging the swinging metal. He's big, but he's surprisingly agile in this moment of high stakes.

Ella, however, keeps her cool. She elegantly dodges a wrecking ball, her movements almost like a dance as she moves past Owen. She's nearly at the finish line, but Owen isn't far behind.

With a final leap, Owen soars through the air, landing just behind Ella on the last platform. The final platform, however, begins to disappear beneath their feet. In a last-ditch effort, Owen leaps just ahead of Ella, reaching the platform at the very last moment. His sheer size and strength propel him forward, and with a heroic landing, Owen crosses the finish line just milliseconds before Ella.

"And Owen takes it! What an incredible comeback from the big guy! That's 7-4!"

Owen jumps in the air, cheering. "That's what I'm talking about!" he yells, pumping his fists. His victory dance is… less than graceful, but it's full of enthusiasm. Ella, smiling sweetly despite her defeat, gives Owen a thumbs up. "Well done, Owen," she says, her voice warm.

Chris approaches with his microphone. "What a showdown, folks! Owen's brute force wins this round! We're all tied up, and this competition is heating up! Stay tuned, because we're not done yet!"

The next round is ready to go, and the competitors are lined up. On one side, DJ, the gentle giant, and on the other, Brick, the powerhouse with a military background and a no-nonsense attitude. This battle is about to get intense.

Chris grins as he looks at the contestants. "Alright folks, it's time for the clash of strength and kindness! DJ may be a big softie, but don't let that fool you—he's got some serious skills. And Brick? Well, he's all business. Let's see who takes this one!"

The horn sounds, and both DJ and Brick take off. DJ starts with his usual calm and careful approach, focusing on his movements to make sure he doesn't make any mistakes. Brick, on the other hand, charges forward with all the energy and power of a freight train.

DJ reaches the spinning wheel first, and he hesitates for a moment, taking a deep breath before he leaps. He manages to grab hold of the wheel, but the momentum is too much. The wheel spins violently, and DJ struggles to maintain his grip, eventually being flung into the mud with a loud splash.

"DJ's out, folks!" Chris announces, clearly enjoying the spectacle. "But wait—here comes Brick!"

Brick, showing his military training, uses sheer strength to grip the wheel and swing onto one of the attached platforms without hesitation. The wheel jerks, but he's determined not to fall. He reaches for the platform, his powerful arms grabbing it as he climbs to his feet and is now at the second round. "And Brick takes the first round!" Chris declares as Brick hops off the wheel, planting both feet on the ground.

The next obstacle is the Exploding Tire Run, and both competitors are clearly prepared for it. DJ, although a gentle giant, has great agility, and Brick is focused and ready for anything. As they charge toward the tire field, DJ steps lightly over the tires, carefully avoiding the explosive ones with precision. He's calm, moving with grace for someone of his size.

Brick, on the other hand, charges ahead, moving with the power of a tank. He plows through the tires, barely flinching as the explosions go off around him. A tire bursts right next to him, but Brick just grins, hardly fazed. He's in full force, eyes locked on the end of the tire field.

DJ isn't far behind, but Brick, using his speed and raw strength, makes it to the end of the tire run first.

Now, it's time for the final stretch—The Detonator Dive. Wrecking balls swing ominously overhead, and fireworks shoot unpredictably into the sky. DJ, who is already feeling a bit out of breath from the earlier obstacles, digs deep, pushing forward with everything he has left. His movements are careful, but the wrecking balls swing dangerously close.

Brick charges through the obstacle with the intensity of a man on a mission. He dodges the wrecking balls with precision and swerves around the fireworks with military-like agility. DJ tries his best, but he's lagging slightly behind. His slower pace, while calculated, doesn't give him enough time to catch up.

With a powerful leap, Brick reaches the final platform first. DJ follows, but it's clear that Brick has already claimed the win. The final platform disappears beneath them, but Brick is already celebrating his victory.

"And Brick takes the win for the Dominators! That's 7-5! The Dominators are closing the gap!"

Meanwhile, on the other side of the course, Duncan chuckles, shaking his head as he watches the spectacle unfold. "Brick is literally military core, it was obvious he was gonna win."

"Right! That was not fair," Gwen mutters from her spot, clearly frustrated. She crosses her arms, scowling at the result. "He's like a tank with legs."

As Gwen was talking with Duncan, her frustration evident in her tone, something suddenly clicked in her brain—she had been casually talking to him. She had been venting about the unfairness of Brick's strength, and here she was, just chatting with Duncan like it was no big deal. Her eyes widen in realization, and her stomach drops. The memory of everything that had gone down between them—the awkward tension, the misunderstandings, the unresolved feelings—hit her all at once.

"Alright folks," Chris announces with a dramatic flair, "Since we're beginning to run out of time for today's episode, this is it—the final round! We're gonna close off with Courtney and Dawn! Will Courtney be able to pull through despite everything that happened between her and Duncan earlier?"

A loud groan comes from Duncan on the sidelines, as he mumbles, "You really had to bring that up again, Chris?"

Chris smirks, "Sorry, man, the audience wants to know! Let's see if she can shake off the emotional baggage and make it happen!"

Courtney stands at the starting line, but her usual drive and focus are nowhere to be found. It's as if the weight of everything has drained the usual fire from her.

Dawn, on the other hand, stands calmly across from her, appearing as serene as ever. She knows the game, and she's more than ready to finish this challenge on top.

Chris calls out. "And they're off!"

As soon as the airhorn blares, the two women charge forward. Courtney's movements are hesitant—almost like she's dragging herself through the course. She tries to power through the spinning wheel of the first part, but her lack of focus proves to be her downfall. As she leaps onto the wheel, she misjudges the spin and is flung off into the pit of mud below with a splash.

The crowd gasps as Dawn gracefully leaps onto the wheel. It spins violently and she almost falls out, but she managed to stay in somehow with her agility allowing her to stay ahead, and she's the first to cross the first line, securing the win for the first part.

"Dawn takes part one!" Chris announces, his voice full of energy. "She's off to a strong start, but it's not over yet, folks!"

Courtney looks visibly shaken, her frustration and embarrassment mounting. She wipes her muddy hands on her pants, trying to push the negative thoughts out of her mind, but they keep creeping back in. How could she let herself fall behind so easily? Why is this happening?

"Focus, Courtney! You've got this!" Zoey calls from the sidelines, her voice full of encouragement. "You're stronger than you think!"

Courtney nods, trying to pull herself together. She stands up, wiping the mud from her face, and refocuses. She can do this. She has to.

The second part begins—The Exploding Tire Run. Courtney and Dawn race through the long stretch of tires, each one rigged to explode in a colorful puff of smoke when stepped on. Courtney keeps her head down, trying to push herself forward, but the combination of the exploding tires and her self-doubt leads to a misstep. A loud pop and Courtney is sent tumbling forward, crashing into the ground as a tire explodes beneath her.

Dawn, steady as ever, dodges the smoke bursts and plows through the tire course, her speed unmatched. By the time Courtney finally recovers, it's already too late. Dawn finishes the section, leaving Courtney in her dust.

Courtney is visibly frustrated now. She clenches her fists and glares at the ground. It feels like everything she's been through with Duncan, all the drama and heartbreak, has completely drained her. She wants to win, but it seems impossible right now. But Zoey—kind-hearted, always optimistic Zoey—yells some encouraging words from the audience.

"Courtney, you've always been the strongest out of all of us," Zoey says, her voice filled with sincere belief. "You can't mess up now! You've got this, you're strong, you're fierce, you're independent, you're smart.. don't give up!"

Courtney's eyes meet Zoey's, and for the first time that day, something shifts. The anger, frustration, and sadness seem to dissipate as a fire reignites within her. Zoey's words are the spark she needed.

The final section—The Detonator Dive—stands before them. Wrecking balls swing unpredictably, fireworks go off at random, and the disappearing platform at the end promises that no one's safe until the very last second.

As Chris blows the airhorn, both Courtney and Dawn burst off the starting line. This time, Courtney is different. She's focused, locked in. She dodges the swinging wrecking balls with ease, her body moving with precision as she heads toward the fireworks section. Dawn, always graceful, is right behind her—but Courtney's momentum is unmatched now.

With a burst of energy, Courtney leaps over the final wrecking ball and races toward the final platform. Dawn's footsteps sound behind her, but Courtney's drive is unstoppable. She jumps just as the fireworks explode around her, landing gracefully on the final platform right before it disappears beneath her feet.

She did it.

Courtney gasps for breath as she watches Dawn land a second later. The Underdogs have won the final round—and secured the victory for the whole challenge.

"Courtney takes the final round for The Underdogs!" Chris announces with a booming voice. "The final score is 7-6, meaning The Underdogs win the whole challenge! What a comeback!"

Courtney stands there for a moment, stunned, before a wide grin spreads across her face. She'd done it. Against all odds, despite everything—she'd won. And for the first time today, she finally felt like herself again.

Zoey rushes over, wrapping Courtney in a hug. "You were amazing! I knew you had it in you!"

Duncan, despite his earlier words, comes to congratulate Courtney on her win. "Nice win."

Courtney, hoping he would say a little more before realizing she's pushing her luck, just nods and smiles. "Thank you."

Confessional: Courtney

The Underdogs

"Okay, yeah, I'm still really bummed about Duncan. I mean, if it wasn't obvious already, it's been a rough few days. But… this is the game, right? I can't let myself get stuck in the past, especially not when it comes to something as important as this. I can't lie.. I'm gonna be upset over this at least for a few more days—that's not something I can just forget. But I'm not here to wallow. I'm here to win. And I'm not going to let him or any of this emotional mess get in the way of that. If I let it, I'm just giving up, and that's not me. I came here to prove myself, and that's exactly what I plan to do. So yeah, I'll miss him, but right now, it's all about the game. And I'm going to finish this strong, no matter what."

"Dominators.. looks like you're back in loser town. You're voting someone off tonight." Chris says as he walks away, leaving the rest of the contestants to talk amongst themselves about the challenge.

As Chris's words echoed through the air, a collective sigh of relief seemed to wash over The Underdogs. They had won, and the drama of the challenge was finally behind them. The Dominators, on the other hand, looked like they had just been hit with a ton of bricks. The realization was sinking in—their defeat meant one thing: someone was about to be sent home.

"Ha! Told you we had it in the bag!" Duncan said, slinging an arm around Zoey's shoulders as they began to head back toward their camp. Zoey let out a small laugh, clearly relieved that they had won, but there was a lingering look of concern in her eyes.

"Yeah, but it's gonna be rough on them," Zoey said, glancing over at the defeated Dominators.

"Rough? No, they've got this coming. They've been so smug all day," Duncan responded with a grin, his usual confidence back in full force.

Meanwhile, on the other side, the Dominators were walking back to their camp in silence, each step heavier than the last. Lindsay and Sierra exchanged a quick look before glancing at the rest of their team. Brick was marching ahead, his brow furrowed, clearly lost in thought.

"This sucks," Lindsay muttered, kicking a rock as they walked. "We almost had it!"

"Almost doesn't count," Sierra snapped, her voice a little more pointed than usual. "And now we have to vote someone out. Great." She sighed, dragging her feet as she spoke.

"Yeah, this is gonna be brutal. I don't know who to vote for…" Dawn said quietly, her eyes shifting nervously from teammate to teammate. She had been doing so well in the challenges, but now, the weight of the decision was on her shoulders too.

"Same," Scott added, adjusting his shirt and glancing over at Alejandro. "We don't have many strong options left."

"Well, someone has to go, and it's not gonna be me," Alejandro said coolly, a slight edge to his voice. "I'm not about to get eliminated just because we lost a stupid challenge." He shot a pointed glance at Sierra, who rolled her eyes in response.

Chris's words hung over the group like a dark cloud. The Dominators were on the verge of falling apart, and everyone knew that in a team like theirs, it was going to be a fight to stay. Someone was going to have to make a decision—and soon.

"Let's just get to camp, talk it over, and figure this out. But don't act like this is gonna be easy. We all know how this works," Brick muttered, leading the way as the group trudged through the woods.

Back at The Dominators' camp, the mood was far less relaxed. As the team sat around the fire, each of them stewing in their own thoughts, the inevitable vote loomed over them.

Confessional: Lindsay

The Dominators

"Ugh, voting is, like, sooo hard. I mean, everyone here is..okay I guess… except for the ones that aren't. But, like, how do I pick? Do I go with someone strong? Someone weak? Someone who, like, totally hogs the bathroom? Ugh, decisions are the worst!"

Confessional: Shawn

The Dominators

"I vote for Sierra because if this were a competition for Cody, she'd totally dominate. She'd do anything for that guy. When it comes to him, she's like a mindless zombie. I don't do ZOMBIES. And since Cody isn't even in this season, well… Sierra just isn't playing to her full potential. That only really shows when Cody's around. See the issue now?"

Confessional: Ella

The Dominators

"This is so difficult! Everyone on the team has such unique qualities! But we have to vote someone off… I just wish it wasn't so mean. Maybe if I sing them a farewell song, it won't feel as bad?"

Confessional: Scarlett

The Dominators

"From a strategic perspective, eliminating a stronger player early in the game can have negative consequences for team performance. However, when the merge approaches, Sky will undoubtedly become a significant threat. It may be wise to eliminate that threat now. Additionally, removing a disruptive element could improve team morale. Sierra, without Cody, is essentially deadweight, and her odd behavior only amplifies the issue. Considering all these factors, she presents a logical choice for elimination."

Confessional: Sammy

The Dominators

"I really don't like that Sierra girl… she's super weird. From the few clips of Total Drama World Tour I've seen, she's basically a stalker. Honestly, that could be a reason to keep her around—since she's such a huge fan of the original cast, maybe she'll play harder for them. But, honestly, she's so crazy, it kinda cancels out. Looks like Izzy's got some competition now."

"Dominators! Welcome back to elimination. Well, well, well, you guys are looking pretty outnumbered, if I do say so myself," Chris said with a smug grin. "The Underdogs have 14 players, while you guys are about to be down to 12. Not exactly the best luck, huh?"

He picked up the plate of marshmallows and continued, "You've all cast your votes and made your decision. When I call your name, catch your marshmallow. If you—"

"—do not receive a marshmallow, we will be required to walk the Dock of Shame, board the Boat of Losers, and leave the competition for good. There will be no second chances, no opportunities to return—once we're eliminated, our time here is over permanently. Yes, we understand the stakes," Scarlett interrupted, finishing Chris's sentence in a matter-of-fact tone.

Chris shot her a glare. "…Yes, Scarlett. Finish my job for me, why don't you?" He sighed and picked up the first marshmallow, clearly a bit annoyed.

He tossed the first marshmallow in Ella's direction. "The first marshmallow goes to Ella."

Ella caught it with a relieved smile.

"The next marshmallow goes to… Geoff!" Chris called, tossing the marshmallow to the grinning contestant.

"Yesss!" Geoff said, giving a thumbs-up.

"Brick!" Chris announced, tossing another marshmallow to the big guy.

Brick caught it and gave a nod of thanks.

"Mike," Chris continued, tossing the next marshmallow.

Mike smiled and caught it, the calm expression on his face unwavering.

"Lindsay!" Chris called.

Lindsay flashed a quick, nervous smile as she caught her marshmallow.

"Sammy!" Chris tossed the next marshmallow to him.

Sammy caught her marshmallow with a smile.

"Dawn!" Chris said next.

Dawn caught the marshmallow and closed her eyes briefly, offering a silent thank you.

"Scarlett!" Chris tossed her the next marshmallow, which she caught with her usual calculating coolness.

"Alejandro!" Chris said, looking at him with an assessing eye.

Alejandro's smile remained steady as he grabbed the marshmallow, his eyes narrowing only slightly.

"Shawn!" Chris said, tossing the next marshmallow to him.

Shawn gave a thumbs-up and caught it.

"Scott!" Chris said, throwing it next to him.

Scott caught the marshmallow, scratching his head.

"Campers, the last marshmallow of the night goes to…" Chris said, his voice dripping with suspense. The tension in the air was almost suffocating. The final two without a marshmallow, Sky and Sierra, exchanged wide-eyed glances, their faces a mix of fear and disbelief. The camera zoomed in on their anxious expressions, cutting between them before finally settling on Chris.

Chris raised the marshmallow in his hand as though he was about to throw it, but then, just as quickly, he lowered it and smirked, clearly enjoying the moment.

"Can you please just give us the marshmallow already?!" Sky demanded, her voice a little too loud as she fidgeted nervously.

"Fine. The last marshmallow goes to… Sky." Chris said, tossing the marshmallow her way.

Sky blinked, catching it in surprise. "Yes!"

Sierra's face fell. "Wha… me? Why am I going home?!" she asked, confusion and frustration clouding her voice. "Why did anyone even vote for me in the first place? I haven't done anything…"

"That's kinda the problem." Scarlett replies.

The camera switched to Sierra as her frown deepened. She stared at the remaining contestants, her hands trembling with disbelief. "You guys… really?" she muttered under her breath.

Chris smiled, his hands confidently placed on his hips. "Sierra, you've been a tough competitor, but it looks like your time has come. You're the one leaving tonight."

Sierra stood up, her face a mixture of shock and frustration. "This… this isn't fair! I didn't even get a chance to show what I could do!"

Chris shrugged, unfazed. "That's the game, Sierra. Now, go ahead and walk the Dock of Shame."

Sierra marched toward the Dock, her eyes burning with a mix of anger and disbelief. She glanced over her shoulder at the remaining contestants. "I'd be way more upset… but at least this means I can go back to my Cody-kins. You guys are the worst!" she yelled, as the boat began to pull away.

With that, she stepped onto the Dock, and Chris waved her off with a casual, indifferent gesture.

"Alright, folks! Another elimination, and another night of drama. Stay tuned for the next exciting episode, where anything can happen—unless, of course, you're Sierra. Then, you'll just head home and cuddle with your little Cody pillow," Chris chuckled. "Who's going home next? Will The Dominators ever stop losing? Will they recover from their current outnumbered status? I sure hope so. Find out, next time, on Total… Drama… GENERATIONAL WARFARE!"

Chapter Text

"Previously on a very intense episode of Total Drama: Generational Warfare…"

Cut to Geoff and Gwen, their faces set with fierce determination as they weave through a battlefield of swinging wrecking balls and exploding tires. Flames erupt in the background as they leap over a crumbling platform, both racing for the finish line.

"The legendary Obsta-Kill Kourse from All-Stars made a triumphant return—except this time, it was bigger, badder, and more brutal than ever! Twice as treacherous, twice as painful, and, of course, twice as FUN!" Chris announces with a gleeful cackle, rubbing his hands together like a mad scientist watching his experiment unfold.

Cut to Heather and Alejandro in the thick of the action, dodging rotating blades and vaulting over swinging hammers. Alejandro glares at Heather, who smirks as she effortlessly maneuvers through a set of collapsing platforms.

"The challenge was simple: one competitor from each team would step up, take on the ruthless gauntlet, and race to the finish line. The first one across scored a point for their team!"

Cut to Owen and Ella struggling to maintain their footing as they scramble over a series of rapidly spinning wheels. Tires explode around them, sending debris flying in every direction. Owen yelps as he nearly topples over, while Ella miraculously manages to keep her balance with an oddly graceful twirl.

"Despite the sheer chaos and danger, most of our competitors somehow managed to survive the course—though let's be real, not everyone walked away in one piece…"

Cut to a montage of the challenge's most devastating failures. Shawn misjudges a leap, his eyes widening in horror before he plunges straight into a pit of murky water below. Zoey watches in disbelief before realizing—she won! However, her victory comes with a price.

"Shawn, our resident zombie apocalypse prepper, took a dive into the depths below, leaving Zoey as the last competitor standing in their round! But before she could even celebrate, karma—or maybe just the course's sheer insanity—decided to humble her. A rogue exploding tire sent her flying like a ragdoll, and when she crash-landed, let's just say her ankle took the brunt of it. The result? Temporary paralysis. Yikes. Talk about winning by pure luck!"

Cut to Zoey sprawled on the ground, groaning in pain, her arms twitching as she struggles to regain feeling in her limbs.

"Then there was Alejandro—who proved that even the best can have an off day. Just when it seemed like he had the course mastered, BAM! A wrecking ball came out of nowhere and absolutely demolished him. One direct hit to the face later, and Heather coasted to an easy win."

Cut to Chris standing before the scoreboard, grinning from ear to ear.

"But believe it or not, the challenge wasn't even the most shocking thing to happen that day."

Cut to Duncan and Courtney standing on the beach, tensions high. Courtney's arms are crossed, her expression unreadable. Duncan looks frustrated but firm as he speaks, his voice low but resolute.

"After countless seasons of on-again, off-again drama, Duncan finally put his foot down and ended things with Courtney—for good. And let's just say… Courtney did not take it well."

Cut to Courtney standing alone after Duncan's final words, her expression frozen in shock before twisting into a mix of anger and heartbreak. Her hands clench into fists, her eyes welling up with tears she refuses to let fall.

"That's right, folks. The rollercoaster couple is officially derailed! Duncan's finally moved on… but did he really take any time to breathe before cozying up to someone new?"

Cut to a montage of Duncan and Heather's unexpected closeness: a lingering glance between them during a challenge, smirks exchanged over dinner, Heather casually resting her arm on Duncan's shoulder, and the two of them sitting by the campfire, engaged in what seems to be a suspiciously friendly conversation. Heather playfully shoves him at one point, and he responds with a signature smirk.

"From long-time rivals to… something more? Could Duncan and Heather actually be the next big power couple? Or is this just another disaster waiting to happen? Let's be real—Duncan is pretty unpredictable."

Cut to the challenge's final round, where Courtney and Dawn stand at the starting line, the tension thick in the air.

"But romance drama aside, the most intense moment of the challenge was, without a doubt, the final showdown. Why? Because it was Courtney! Despite being an absolute wreck after the Duncan situation, she somehow managed to shove all those emotions aside and pull off an impressive victory against Dawn! And it wasn't just sheer skill—turns out, a little pep talk from Zoey was all she needed to snap back into competitor mode."

Cut to Courtney crossing the finish line, breathing heavily, but with a determined fire in her eyes as her teammates cheer. The scoreboard flashes—the win belongs to The Underdogs! Again!

"With that win, Courtney officially secured another challenge victory for The Underdogs, keeping their winning streak alive and sending The Dominators straight to the dreaded elimination ceremony!"

Cut to Courtney in the confessional, arms crossed, her previous sadness replaced with fierce determination.

"But after the challenge, it looked like the heartbreak was already wearing off. Courtney went from crushed to confident, vowing that she wouldn't let her breakup with Duncan affect her performance any longer. But the real question is—will she actually be able to keep that promise?"

Cut to the elimination ceremony, where The Dominators sit tensely as Chris reads the final vote. Sierra's face falls as her name is called, and she sighs in defeat before stepping up to take her walk of shame.

"And just like that, The Dominators lost another player, as Sierra became the latest contestant booted from the game. That leaves them with only 12 members—while The Underdogs are sitting pretty with their full roster of 14. If The Dominators don't step up their game soon, their team is going to crumble faster than Alejandro's dignity after that wrecking ball hit!"

Cut to Chris, watching Sierra disappear down the Dock of Shame, before turning back to the camera with a smirk.

"Maybe it's time to shake things up. Should I switch up the teams? Even the playing field a little? Meh. I could… or I could just watch The Dominators continue to crash and burn. Either way, I'm entertained. Who will crash and burn next? Will The Dominators continue to suck? Will I switch up the teams? Probably not.. stick around and find out on… Total…Drama..Generational Warfare!"

(Cue the TDGW Intro)

The episode opens on a crisp, early-morning camp scene. Sammy wanders along a dusty trail between ramshackle cabins and scattered campfires, her stomach grumbling in protest. The air is thick with the mingled scents of pine and something less inviting—whatever Chef is dishing out has an unmistakable chemical tang that makes her nose wrinkle in disgust.

Confessional: Sammy

The Dominators

"I'm fully aware that what I'm doing is considered 'rock bottom activity' and that SCAVENGING for food should only be used as a last resort kind of thing. But- I feel like in this case it kinda is! Chef made FEGGS for breakfast this morning. Not eggs, feggs! WHAT IN THE HELL ARE 'FEGGS', you ask? Chef says they're 'eggs, with a bit of added protein'—bonus! the protein is A GALLON of radioactive waste. Essentially they're just radioactive eggs. Second bonus— THEY MOVE. THEY FRICKIN' MOVE. Yeah, I'll take my chances with nature thanks."

As Sammy wanders through the woods, her stomach growls in protest. Just when she's about to give up and accept starvation as her fate, she spots something promising—a bush bursting with vibrant, colorful berries. Her eyes light up with hope, but a nagging voice in the back of her head reminds her of every survival documentary she's ever half-paid attention to.

Pretty berries can be poisonous berries… but can they really be worse than whatever Chef's trying to kill us with?

Cautiously, she steps forward, reaching out to pluck one from the bush—only for the entire thing to rustle.

Sammy freezes.

Then, the bush moves again.

Her breath catches in her throat as the realization sets in: Something is in there. Something alive.

"What the—?!" she blurts out, instantly jumping back and raising her fists, slipping into the most intimidating self-defense stance she can manage. Her heart pounds as she prepares for the worst—wild animal, mutant bug, maybe even one of Chef's frankenfood experiments coming back for revenge. Whatever it is, she's not going down without a fight.

And then, just as she's bracing herself for the reveal… the bushes part, and out pops—

Sammy lets out a breath of relief, lowering her fists as Jasmine emerges from the bushes. "Jasmine?! What the—why were you even in there?"

Jasmine gives a sheepish smile, brushing a few stray leaves off her arms. "Oh, hey! I was just trying to grab some berries for your team. I caught a glimpse of whatever Chef served you guys this morning, and, uh… what even was that?" She pulls a disgusted face at the memory.

Sammy groans, running a hand down her face. "Oh my god, I know. Like, at this point, it's not even food. He somehow managed to turn a normal, innocent breakfast into a radioactive crime against nature!"

Jasmine chuckles, shaking her head. "Dude, I was just passing by the mess hall for no reason, saw what he slapped onto your plates, and all I could think was, 'what…?' Like, seriously, is he trying to poison you guys?"

"Honestly? Wouldn't put it past him," Sammy sighs, then pauses before breaking into a grin. "But, hey—how've you been? I don't think we've talked since last season!"

Jasmine smiles, crossing her arms. "Yeah, it's been a while! Feels kinda weird, huh? Last time we saw each other, we were trying not to get obliterated by a collapsing island."

Sammy lets out a short laugh. "Oh, don't remind me. I still have nightmares about those stupid booby traps. But hey, at least you got out of there in one piece!"

"Same to you," Jasmine says with a lopsided grin, leaning casually against a gnarled tree. "And hey, you seem a lot more confident and outspoken than before. Not letting your sister push you around anymore?"

Sammy's eyes flicker with a mix of defiance and relief, though a shadow briefly crosses her face before she forces a casual shrug. "I mean… yeah. With Amy not around this season, I finally get to call the shots. What's she gonna do, haunt me from some dusty island memory?" Her tone is half-mocking, half-sincere—a subtle jab at the past that once left her feeling small and overshadowed.

Jasmine's approving nod is slow and thoughtful as she studies Sammy. "Good. You deserve so much better than that. Still, I can't help but wonder—what happened to her? Why didn't she come back?"

A wistful smile tugs at Sammy's lips, though there's a hint of bitterness beneath it. "Who knows? Honestly, I don't really care anymore. I'm doing just fine without her meddling. It's like a breath of fresh air—finally, a chance to be myself without her constant reminders of who I'm 'supposed' to be."

Her gaze drifts momentarily to the vibrant berry bush between them, its leaves catching the dappled sunlight. "So, uh… these aren't, like, poisonous, right? I was ready to risk life and limb for a decent snack."

Jasmine laughs—a warm, genuine sound that cuts through the tension. "Nah, they're perfectly safe. Trust me, I wouldn't be picking them if they weren't. Look, here…" She plucks a generous handful and pops one into her mouth, savoring the burst of flavor. "See? Sweet, tangy, and nothing radioactive about them."

Sammy hesitates, her fingers trembling slightly as she reaches for a few of the berries. She pops one into her mouth, and her eyes widen in delight. "Oh my god, these are incredible. Way better than whatever chemical nightmare Chef's been serving up lately."

Jasmine smirks, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Exactly. That's why I was out here scouting for food. You guys deserve real nourishment if you're going to keep up in these challenges. I even thought about smuggling some goodies from the Spa Hotel, but… well, you know how my team gets."

Sammy laughs, a dramatic yet genuine sound. "Thank you so much, like—seriously. You might've just saved my life—and my taste buds." Her tone softens as she surveys her chaotic team with a mix of exasperation and resigned humor.

"And how's your team holding up?" Jasmine inquires, her voice laced with curiosity.

Sammy sighs deeply, the weight of sleepless nights and daily frustrations evident in her expression. "Honestly? It's like living in a circus. Our teamwork is a complete disaster. Every challenge ends in a mess. And don't even get me started on the living situation." She shakes her head, recalling the nightly ordeals. "Take Scott, for example—the country boy with the orange hair from Revenge of the Island and All-Stars. His alarm..dude it makes me wanna scream—every morning, it's like being awoken by a shrill cowgirl yell. I swear, I can't even get a minute's sleep without feeling like I've been hit by a runaway tractor."

Jasmine's eyebrows rise in sympathy, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. "Sounds like you're trapped in a perpetual boot camp of chaos."

"Exactly!" Sammy exclaims, her voice a blend of frustration and humor. "And then there's Alejandro—so unfathomably smooth it's almost irritating. He struts around like he's the star of a movie, while the rest of us are busy trying not to starve. It's maddening." Her tone wavers between exasperation and resignation, the words revealing not just a complaint about teamwork but a deeper longing for a sense of unity that never quite materializes. "How's your team going?"

"Honestly.. it doesn't seem fair to say right now after what you just told me but.. we're doing pretty great I mean.. half of my team is from the first generation.. it feels great being able to play alongside the OG's of this game.. I do have some pet peeves about some of them though." Jasmine says.

The two continue chatting, catching up on everything that's happened since Pahkitew Island, the tension of the morning slowly fading as Sammy finally gets a moment to enjoy something normal—at least, as normal as things can get on this show.

Confessional: Jasmine

The Underdogs

"You know, it's really something catching up with Sammy after all this time. She's not the same girl I remember from last season—she's evolved in ways that are impossible not to admire. There's a spark in her now: she's independent, outspoken, and radiates confidence like never before. It's like she finally stepped out from under Amy's shadow. Watching her navigate this season with such determination and strength, I can't help but feel excited for what's ahead for her and the team. It's a fresh start, and honestly? It's a great look." She says before a sheepish expression appears on her face. "But I can't lie though.. her team seriously isn't doing too great. They're so outnumbered compared to us."

The mess hall is filled with the usual morning grogginess, but today, there's an extra layer of dread hanging over The Dominators. They sit around the table, eyeing the platter in front of them like it might explode at any second. The so-called "feggs"—a sickly greenish-yellow with an unnatural glow—wobble slightly, as if they have a mind of their own. The smell alone is enough to make some of them gag.

Lindsay leans forward, staring at the dish with wide, horrified eyes. "Oh my gosh, what did Chef do now?"

Geoff shakes his head, pushing his plate as far away as possible. "I told you, Chef's 'gourmet' experiments are a death sentence waiting to happen. This is a new low."

Alejandro raises an eyebrow, his usual composed demeanor cracking just slightly as he watches one of the feggs tremble. "This isn't breakfast—it's biohazardous art. I'd rather starve than subject myself to… whatever this is."

Mike sighs, rubbing his temples. "I can't believe we're expected to eat this. At this point, I'd take actual feathers over feggs."

Brick crosses his arms, his military training kicking in as he assesses the "meal" like it's a battlefield threat. "These things move.."

Dawn tilts her head, lowering her voice as if sharing a dark secret. "I heard someone say they might hatch. Can you imagine? A fegg just crawling off your plate, trying to escape?"

Scarlett wrinkles her nose, adjusting her glasses as she scoffs. "It smells like something died in a science lab. And not in a cool mad scientist way either—more like an experiment gone horribly, horribly wrong."

Confessional: Scarlett

The Dominators

"These 'feggs' are an absolute disaster," she mutters, her tone low but pointed. "A sad mix of poor culinary judgment and complete disregard for food safety. I wouldn't be surprised if consuming these led to some serious digestive issues. Honestly, I can't believe we're being served this." She sighs, clearly exasperated. "We need better options, or we're all in for a miserable time."

Sky folds her arms, tapping her foot impatiently. "We're already at a disadvantage. We need energy for challenges. But there is no way I'm risking radiation poisoning for this."

Ella, usually one to find the good in everything, crosses her arms and frowns. "I try to be positive, but this? This is just cruel. Breakfast should not be terrifying."

Shawn, who's been quietly observing, finally speaks up. "I don't trust it. Not one bit. If Chef's cooking is already bad, imagine what happens when he starts experimenting with who-knows-what. I say we skip it—go full survival mode."

A heavy silence settles over the group as they all glance at each other, realizing they're all thinking the same thing. No one is eating this.

Lindsay sighs dramatically, slumping forward. "I miss the days when breakfast wasn't a gamble with our lives."

"When was it ever NOT a gamble with our lives on this show, Lindsay?" Scarlett asks.

"..you do have a point." Lindsay replies.

Sammy strides into the mess hall with a proud grin, a small pouch of berries swinging in her hand. "Morning, guys," she says, her tone light and cheerful despite the grim atmosphere in the room. She dumps the berries onto the table with a flourish. "I come to you with real breakfast. Fresh berries. Have at it."

Her eyes sparkle as she watches the team's reactions, clearly pleased with herself. She's practically glowing with pride, knowing she's just saved them all from whatever horrifying fate Chef's feggs would have brought.

Geoff raises an eyebrow, looking at the colorful berries like they might be some sort of treasure. "You went foraging? Damn, that's more effort than we've all put into breakfast in weeks."

Lindsay's eyes widen, and she clasps her hands together excitedly. "Ooh, berries! This is way better than whatever Chef cooked up. Thanks, Sammy!"

Mike, usually not one to show excitement over food, eyes the berries cautiously. "You're sure these aren't poisonous, right? 'Cause we've all learned not to trust random stuff around here."

Sammy smirks, crossing her arms confidently. "I'm not that dumb. I checked 'em out before picking. These are perfectly safe."

Sky, already grabbing a handful, grins. "This is the best thing that's happened all day."

Scarlett, picking a berry delicately between her fingers, looks impressed. "You know, for someone who's usually freaking out, you've really pulled through here. These look amazing."

Shawn, still wary but clearly hungry, grabs a few and pops one in his mouth. "Well, no complaints here. At least they won't make us glow in the dark."

Brick takes a tentative bite, then nods approvingly. "This is good. Better than feggs, anyway."

Ella smiles warmly at Sammy, clearly appreciative. "You've made breakfast worth waking up for. Thanks, Sammy."

They all sit there for a moment, staring at the jiggling feggs in disgust. The room is thick with unspoken agreement—Chef's latest experiment is an absolute failure. Whether they like it or not, they'll have to find another way to survive the morning.

Confessional: Sammy

The Dominators

Sammy leans back in the confessional chair, arms crossed with a satisfied smirk. "If I'm gonna have any shot of thriving on this already very small and incompetent team, I gotta get everybody on my good side. And what better way to do that than saving them from Chef's radioactive disaster?"

She tilts her head, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Think about it—our team's shrinking fast. Every elimination, the target pool gets smaller, which means if I don't make myself valuable, I'm next. But if I play my cards right? If I'm the one keeping everyone from starving, making life just a little less miserable, then they'll think twice before writing my name down."

Sammy leans forward, her smirk growing. "I mean, it's not manipulative, per se. It's just… smart. A little goodwill goes a long way in this game, and if I have to play camp provider to stay in it? Fine by me. As long as it keeps me out of that elimination seat."

The morning sun filters through the massive windows of the McLean Spa Hotel, casting a golden glow over the team sprawled across the high-end beds and couches. This isn't their first time winning a night here, but that doesn't make it any less satisfying. After all, every moment away from the gross camp is a blessing. And it's weird because Chris swore the camp was better, slightly cleaner and generally renovated.. guess he lied like usual.

Owen stretches with a loud groan, sinking deeper into his bed. "Man, I love winning. Seriously, I don't care what the next challenge is—we're winning again."

Gwen, already curled up under her blankets, grumbles, "I second that. I'm not ready to go back to the cabins yet."

Heather, lounging in a spa robe with a face mask on, lets out an exaggerated sigh. "Honestly, how do people even function without five-star accommodations? The thought of going back to that camp is actually making me sick."

Courtney, sipping a fancy latte from room service, nods in agreement. "It's simple. We don't lose. Ever."

Bridgette, sitting cross-legged on the couch, laughs. "You say that like Chris won't rig something to mess with us. You know he hates seeing us enjoy ourselves."

DJ, still wrapped up in a pile of pillows, shakes his head. "Man, I don't care. This hotel is worth it. I slept so good, I think I saw my ancestors in my dreams."

Noah, still half-asleep, lifts his head slightly from his bed. "If I had the energy, I'd make a snarky comment, but honestly? Same."

Leshawna, stretched out on the couch, chuckles. "See? This is why I demanded we take full advantage last night. You never know when it'll be our last time here."

Anne Maria flips her hair, admiring its shine. "Ugh, don't say that. My hair finally feels like itself again. If I have to go back to washing it in that lake, I might actually cry."

Trent absentmindedly strums his guitar. "Guess that means we just have to keep winning."

Jasmine walks in from the balcony, stretching her arms over her head. "Yeah, well, after what I just saw at camp, I think we need to double our efforts."

Dakota, lounging in a plush chair, raises a brow. "Why? What's Chris planning?"

Jasmine smirks. "Oh, nothing—just that Chef's latest 'culinary masterpiece' for The Dominators looked like something straight out of a science experiment."

Zoey sits up, intrigued. "Oh no… what was it this time?"

Jasmine crosses her arms. "Something he called feggs. Eggs mixed with 'extra protein' and, get this—a gallon of radioactive waste. Oh, and they move."

The room collectively groans in disgust.

"Oh, that is vile," Heather sneers.

"I am so glad I'm not on that team," Courtney says, shaking her head.

Leshawna scoffs. "See? This is exactly why we can't lose. One day we're sipping lattes in silk robes, the next we're being served radioactive egg monsters for breakfast."

Owen, who had been about to dig into a plate of bacon, pauses. "Wait… they moved?"

Jasmine nods. "Oh yeah. Wriggling around on the plates like they were trying to escape."

Noah stares blankly at her before deadpanning, "Well, that's officially the worst thing I've ever heard."

Zoey shudders. "I think I just lost my appetite."

Anne Maria waves a dismissive hand. "See, that's why I only eat food that looks expensive. If it ain't fancy, I ain't touching it."

Owen, recovering from the initial horror, shakes his head. "I knew we should've swiped some food from here last night. We could've made a fortune trading it for favors."

Jasmine smirks. "Don't worry, I already got that covered."

Trent raises a brow. "Wait—what do you mean?"

Jasmine chuckles. "Let's just say I might've helped out a certain hungry Dominators member this morning. And if they survive thanks to me? They'll owe me big time."

The team exchanges looks, some impressed, some amused. But one thing's for sure—nobody wants to be on the receiving end of Chef's next experiment.

Heather hums in agreement before glancing around the room, as if taking inventory of who's present. "Hey, where's Duncan?"

A knowing smirk creeps onto Leshawna's face. "Of course you're wondering where he is."

Heather blinks, turning her attention to her. "Excuse me?"

Bridgette, sitting cross-legged on the couch, exchanges a look with Zoey before chiming in, "Yeah, not gonna lie, you have been spending a lot of time with him lately."

Anne Maria flips her hair and leans forward. "Mmhmm. Y'know, at first I thought I was trippin', but nah—you're always with him."

Heather scoffs, sitting up straighter. "Oh, give me a break. I talk to him, so what?"

Leshawna crosses her arms. "Girl, please. You never just 'talk' to people unless you want something. So spill it—what's your deal with Duncan?"

Heather narrows her eyes. "There is no 'deal.' He's just not annoying like the rest of you. That's all."

Noah, from his spot on the bed, smirks. "Translation: I actually like him, but I'll die before I admit it."

Heather opens her mouth for a sharp retort, but a faint blush betrays her, creeping onto her cheeks before she can stop it. Annoyed, she quickly tilts her head down, letting her hair partially cover her face. "Oh, shut up."

Bridgette raises a brow. "So you don't like him?"

"Not even a little?" Zoey presses, a teasing grin forming.

Heather huffs. "No. I don't."

DJ chuckles. "You do realize we've all noticed, right?"

Trent shrugs, tuning his guitar. "Yeah, it's kinda obvious."

Dakota waves a dismissive hand. "Pfft. Who cares? If Heather wants to have a thing for a bad boy, let her."

Heather scoffs, crossing her arms tighter. "Oh my god, there is no—"

Just then, the doors to the McLean Spa Hotel swing open, and in strolls Chris McLean, looking as smug as ever and interrupting Heather's sentence. She lets out a very subtle "phew" as the conversation will likely drop being that Chris is here now. He claps his hands together, surveying the team with an exaggerated grin.

"Well, well, well—look at you guys, living the high life." He walks further in, eyeing the breakfast spread on the table. "Fresh fruit, golden waffles, real eggs that don't glow in the dark… Must be nice."

Heather, still slightly flustered from the previous conversation, rolls her eyes. "What do you want?"

Chris gasps dramatically. "Me? Want something? Can't a caring host check in on his beloved contestants?"

Noah, barely looking up from his plate, mutters, "Since when are you caring?"

Chris ignores him, turning his attention to the food. He picks up a piece of toast, inspects it, then takes a massive bite. "Mmm… wow. This is way better than what Chef's making."

Jasmine smirks. "Yeah, you mean the feggs? You saw that nightmare, right?"

Chris snickers. "Oh, yeah. And let me tell you—it was even funnier watching them try to eat it."

Zoey cringes. "That's so messed up."

Chris waves her off, grabbing a glass of freshly squeezed juice and taking a sip. "Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I hope you guys aren't too comfortable, because we've got a challenge coming up. And something tells me you'll LOVE today."

DJ groans. "Man, can we at least finish breakfast first?"

Chris checks his nonexistent watch. "Ehh… you've got five more minutes."

Owen shovels a stack of pancakes into his mouth. "Challenge accepted."

Chris smirks, watching as the team scrambles to enjoy their last few bites of luxury. "Meet at the challenge area when you're done!"

Confessional: Owen

The Underdogs

"Dude, I love the McLean Spa Hotel. Like, I could live here. The food, the beds, the comfort. I feel like I've been pampered like a king. But here's the thing—I know Chris is up to something. Whenever we get the good stuff, there's always a challenge coming. And with Chris? That means that challenge is gonna suck."

The contestants stand in a line, a mix of confusion and concern on their faces as they eye the challenge area. The usual vibrant set-up for the challenge is replaced by something more… intense. The towering structure looks imposing, with obstacles that seem to promise nothing but pain and suffering.

But what's even more startling? Chef Hatchet is standing at the front, his arms crossed and his usual scowl plastered across his face. Chris is there too, leaning casually against a nearby tree, but it's clear that today is not his show.

Heather squints at Chef, eyebrows furrowing. "Wait a second… where's Chris? What's going on?"

Duncan shrugs, but there's a hint of nervousness in his eyes. "Maybe he got tired of having fun with us and decided to let Chef make us regret our lives for a change."

The rest of the contestants share uneasy glances. Everyone knows that Chef's challenges are nothing like Chris's, which often include mind games and tricks. Chef's challenges are physical—and brutal.

Chef eyes them all with a cold smile. "Listen up, punks. Chris left things up to me for today, so I'm running this challenge. And if you thought his challenges were bad… just wait until you see what I've got for you today."

"You're in for a real treat today," Chef continues, his tone dark and playful in equal measure. "Today's challenge is all about testing your ability to handle what you don't know. It's a challenge of your survival instincts. And to do that, I'm gonna need you to put your chef hats on, 'cause you'll be cooking."

There's a collective groan from the group, and Chef doesn't miss a beat.

"Oh, don't give me that look. You didn't think it would be easy, did you? Not with me in charge." He gestures toward the piles of strange ingredients around them. "These are your ingredients. You'll have to figure out what they are—and then turn them into a lovely little meal."

A confused murmur ripples through the group.

Chef grins. "Mhm. And you'll have to work together. No one's getting any help. No special equipment. No fancy gadgets. Just you, your wits, and whatever mystery food I've put in front of you."

Courtney scoffs, clearly not impressed. "How are we supposed to know if any of this is even safe to eat?"

Chef smirks, relishing the moment. "You don't. And that's the fun part. You'll have to get creative with this one. This challenge is about survival, adaptability, and most importantly—teamwork. Don't try to get cute with each other, or you'll be the ones who end up on the menu."

Duncan looks around at the strange piles of food, his lips curling in disgust. "This is going to be a nightmare, huh?"

"Only if you're not careful," Chef replies with a dark chuckle.

Lindsay, her face turning pale, whispers to Geoff, "Is this even legal?"

Chris, who's been standing off to the side, casually watching the proceedings, shrugs. "Does it matter? It's gonna be hilarious either way."

Chef eyes the contestants with a wicked glint in his eye. "Now, you've got an hour. Make it count. And if I find even one dish that doesn't make me want to vomit… well, let's just say your stomachs won't be the only thing you'll have to worry about."

He steps back, crossing his arms, a dark satisfaction on his face as the contestants look at each other in horror.

Chris, still grinning, leans over to Chef and whispers, "You really know how to ruin their day, don't you?"

Chef grins back. "You haven't even seen the secret ingredient yet."

As the contestants exchange worried glances, they realize this isn't just a cooking challenge—it's a battle of survival. What Chef is really testing is whether or not they can stomach the madness he's about to throw their way. And with the stakes this high, it's going to be a wild ride.

Confessional: Heather

The Underdogs

"So here we are, doing yet another cooking challenge. Because apparently, that's the kind of thing Chris thinks will 'spice things up'—as if the last cooking challenge wasn't bad enough. Now we're supposed to make a meal using expired ingredients? Is Chef trying to kill us, or is he just this much of a sadist? Honestly, I don't even know why I'm surprised at this point. The guy has no boundaries. And the worst part? I bet he's actually enjoying watching us suffer through this. Because, you know, that's what makes the show fun for him. But whatever. I'll just do what I do best—make the others look like amateurs while I somehow manage to survive. That's always the plan, right?"

Confessional: Anne Maria

The Underdogs

"Alright, so here we are again. Another cooking challenge. And let me tell you, I hate cooking. Like, I don't even make cereal at home—I just grab it and eat it dry. But now we gotta work with these disgusting piles of expired ingredients? What's next, Chef? Moldy bread with a side of dirt? I mean, I knew coming into this I wasn't gonna be eating gourmet meals, but this is next level!

And the worst part? It's gonna be a disaster. I'm looking at this mess and thinking, 'How am I supposed to make anything out of this?' But hey, it's a challenge, right? Let's see what we can do."

Confessional: Duncan

The Underdogs

"Cooking? Yeah, that's not exactly a skill I picked up in juvie or prison. But don't get me wrong, I know my way around the kitchen. I mean, Heather and I won that last cooking challenge with the salmon, didn't we? I don't know how she did it, but I sure as hell made sure it didn't turn into a burnt mess.

So, yeah, this challenge? I'm not worried. I might not be some top-tier chef, but I've made a few things in my time that didn't end up on the 'no-go' list. Chef's got a bunch of expired ingredients in front of us, but hey, I've dealt with worse, and I'm pretty good at improvising. I'll just throw something together and hope it doesn't kill me. If nothing else, it'll be better than whatever Chef's been serving us lately."

The contestants stand in front of large crates, eyes filled with a mix of dread and curiosity. Chef watches them from the sidelines, his arms crossed, a dark grin on his face as they begin to sift through the disgusting assortment of mystery ingredients he's thrown together for the challenge.

The Underdogs begin to examine their crate first.

"Okay, I'm not sure if I should be scared or impressed by what I'm seeing here," Noah mutters, cautiously poking at what looks like a soggy heap of something green.

"Ugh, it's like the stuff they use to make compost," Bridgette grimaces, pulling a jar from the crate that's labeled with something unintelligible. "What is this?"

"Not gonna lie, I don't even wanna know," Owen adds, sniffing the air and immediately recoiling. "Smells like a skunk's back end."

"Ew, seriously?" Zoey says, wrinkling her nose. "We're supposed to cook with this?"

Heather reaches into the crate, her hand pausing over a pile of wriggling, slimy-looking things. "Well, at least it's not moving that much." She picks one up, her expression slightly less disgusted than everyone else's. "I'm not going to lie—I've seen worse." She looks over at the team. "This might be salvageable."

Leshawna raises an eyebrow. "Girl, if you say that's good, I'm out. But you go ahead and try—just don't expect me to be eating anything you cook."

Trent stands over the crate, poking at some grayish liquid with a stick. "This looks like something I'd try to avoid at all costs." He glances at Jasmine. "Think we can turn this into something edible?"

"Honestly?" Jasmine shrugs, eyeing the strange ingredients. "It's gonna be a challenge, but if anyone can make it work, it's us." She looks at the others. "We just need to stick together and not panic."

On the other side, The Dominators begin their search, clearly less enthusiastic about the challenge.

Mike wrinkles his nose as he pulls out a squishy lump. "What the hell is this supposed to be? This looks like something you'd find in a trash can." He looks over at Brick, who seems to be struggling with a pile of slime-covered something. "You think this is edible?"

Brick glares at the blob, his face scrunching up. "Dude, I'm not cooking with this. This can't be food."

Lindsay, wide-eyed, stares at the crate. "Is this… actually food?" she squeaks, picking up a jar of sour-smelling liquid. "I swear this smells like it came from the bottom of an old fishing boat."

"Don't even start, Lindsay," Geoff says, holding up what looks like an unidentifiable, bloated fish. "Whatever this is, I don't wanna know."

Scott looks into the crate, scanning the contents and immediately pulling his hand away when he touches something wiggly. "Is this a joke? Are we supposed to cook with this stuff?" He glares at Chef. "You could've at least given us something we don't need to figure out how to kill with fire."

Dawn seems unphased, her calm demeanor in stark contrast to the others. She picks up a small pile of something slimy and inspects it carefully. "Well, these could be a bit of a challenge… but with the right spices, I think we can turn this around."

Shawn just sighs heavily, looking at the mess of strange, wriggling things in front of him. "I've seen some gross stuff in my day, but this is just next-level." He shrugs. "Guess we're just gonna have to make the best of it."

Alejandro, looking mildly disgusted but trying to maintain his usual confidence, holds up a particularly squishy looking thing. "Well, this certainly won't be what I expected when I signed up for this show, but… I suppose I can manage. We'll need to improvise." He turns to Sky. "Maybe you can make something out of this?" He raises an eyebrow.

Sky looks at him, clearly skeptical. "I'm not even sure where to start with this."

Ella picks up a jar of something green and slimy, eyes wide in disgust. "Okay, what kind of sick joke is this? Are we supposed to cook with whatever this is?" She holds it out to Scarlett. "Are you sure this isn't going to make us sick?"

Scarlett stares at the jar of green slime, adjusting her glasses before speaking. "Well, technically, there are multiple microorganisms that could potentially aid in digestion… but then again, there's a very real chance we'll die from food poisoning if we don't handle it properly." She looks around at the others. "We're all dead if we don't figure this out."

The teams continue to look at their respective piles of bizarre ingredients, each contestant trying to make sense of what they've been given. Chef watches from a distance, a wicked grin on his face as the chaos begins. It's clear—today's challenge will be survival in the most literal sense.

Confessional: Chef

The Cook

"You know, I've got to admit, I'm actually really excited for this one. These kids… they always seem to really step up when I'm the one running the show. It's like they can sense it's gonna get brutal, and all of a sudden, they start cooking like their lives depend on it. Not that it's gonna save them. Half of 'em won't even make it out with a stomach left intact. But that's the point, isn't it? Nothing spices up a challenge like a little fear and desperation. I've got the perfect recipe for disaster today. Let's see if any of 'em can actually pull this off. Probably not. But it's gonna be fun watching 'em try."

Dakota's hands tremble slightly as she grips the jar, her face twisted in pure disgust. She holds it at arm's length, eyeing the chunky, off-white liquid sloshing around inside. It already smells like death, and the fact that something appears to be moving in it only makes her stomach churn more.

"I swear on my phones," Dakota warns, her voice teetering between frustration and sheer dread. "If I open this jar and something jumps out, I'm punching somebody."

The rest of The Underdogs instinctively take a step back, wanting nothing to do with whatever horror Dakota is about to unleash.

"Or… maybe don't open it?" Trent suggests hesitantly, his face twisting in disgust.

Dakota shoots him a look, though she's grimacing just as much. "We have to cook something, Trent. We need to see what we're dealing with."

"What we're dealing with," Leshawna cuts in, arms crossed, "is a bunch of mutated, expired nightmares in a crate. Ain't nothing in there better than the last."

"Both of you are right," Duncan says, jumping into the conversation. His arms are crossed, and there's a deep look of reluctance on his face. "Leshawna's got a point—nothing in that crate is gonna be any better than what we've already seen. It's all the same disgusting, expired, mutated garbage." He sighs, running a hand through his hair before glancing at Dakota. "But Dakota's not wrong either. We have to see what we're working with, no matter how much it sucks."

He exhales sharply, clearly hating what he's about to say next. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but… open it."

Bracing himself, he pulls a clothespin from his pocket and clips it onto his nose, his expression dead serious. "And whatever happens next—I blame Chef."

"Please tell me you have another one of those, Duncan.." Dakota says, already gagging at the putrid scent seeping from the jar—even though she hasn't even opened it yet.

Duncan barely glances at her before shaking his head. "Nope. This one's mine."

Dakota groans, pinching her nose shut with her fingers. "Ugh, of course it is."

With a deep breath and an exaggerated grimace, she carefully, slowly twists off the lid.

For a moment, nothing happens.

"So far, so good.. just an obnoxious odor that'll make me vomit later." She says, clenching her nose.

Then—

WHAM!

A giant, seemingly mutated cockroach erupts from the jar, flying straight into her face.

"AAAHHHH!" Dakota screeches, flailing wildly as the bug scurries up her cheek, its tiny legs skittering across her skin. "GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!"

The rest of the team explodes into chaos.

"OH MY GOD—" Leshawna yells, stumbling backward.

"IT'S HUGE-" Owen cries before being punched by Dakota. "AGHHHH OKAY SHE WASN'T LYING!"

"KILL IT!" Zoey shrieks, gripping Noah's arm so tightly that he winces.

"I—I think it has two heads—" Courtney stammers, eyes locked onto the monstrosity crawling across Dakota's face.

"DON'T JUST STAND THERE—SOMEBODY DO SOMETHING!" Dakota wails, shaking her head frantically in an attempt to dislodge the roach.

Without missing a beat, Jasmine lunges forward and swats at the bug with lightning-fast reflexes. The force sends the roach flying through the air, where it lands—

—right in Owen's open mouth as he's getting up.

For a brief, horrifying moment, everything is silent. Then—

"MMPH—BLAGHHH!" Owen gags, spitting the bug out so forcefully that it smacks against the table before finally skittering away into the woods.

The entire team stares in shock, everyone visibly shaken. Dakota is panting, still frantically brushing at her face as if she can still feel the legs crawling on her.

Owen, meanwhile, looks absolutely traumatized. His face is pale, his eyes distant. "I—I got hit.. and.. and I tasted it," he whispers, voice hollow. "It was crunchy… it was—it was moving around in my mouth… and the taste… it was—it was slimy…"

A collective shudder ripples through the group.

"He's gonna need weeks of therapy…" Duncan mutters, looking just as disturbed. That was, without a doubt, the scariest bug he'd ever seen.

"Months," Heather corrects, her face still frozen in terror.

Anne Maria crosses her arms and shakes her head firmly. "Yeah, I don't care what Chef says," she announces, brushing herself off with a scowl. "I ain't cookin' with this horror show of ingredients."

"Too bad, because you are," Chef's gruff voice cuts in. He strides past them, arms crossed, clearly enjoying the chaos. "Less screamin', more cookin'! Unless you wanna forfeit and hand the win over to The Dominators?"

"…Fine," she grumbles. "But if anything jumps out at me, I'm done."

Still looking disturbed, Dakota slowly puts the cursed jar of milk back into the crate. "Yeah. Hard pass on using that."

Meanwhile, across the field, The Dominators are watching the entire scene unfold.

"…Y'know, I kinda feel bad for them," Lindsay says.

Scott smirks. "I don't."

With that, both teams return to their crates, reluctantly preparing to face the challenge ahead.

As the challenge progresses, The Dominators find themselves in an unfamiliar position—the lead. For the first time in ages, they're actually ahead, and the realization starts to sink in across the team.

Scarlett, meticulously measuring out ingredients, adjusts her glasses with a satisfied smirk. "Statistically speaking, if we maintain this level of efficiency, our chances of winning increase exponentially."

Scott, stirring something questionable in a bowl, raises an eyebrow. "Uh… yeah. What she said."

Sky, who's been laser-focused on perfecting their dish, glances over at The Underdogs and grins. "I think we actually got this."

Even Alejandro, usually as composed as ever, can't hide his amusement. "It's almost unsettling how well we're doing. I'm not used to this."

For the first time in what feels like forever, The Dominators actually believe they might win this.

Meanwhile, The Underdogs are a complete mess. While The Dominators are making actual progress, they haven't even started cooking yet.

Heather stands with her arms crossed, glaring at the pile of rotten, unidentifiable ingredients in front of them. "So… does anyone actually have a plan? Or are we just gonna sit here and lose?"

Owen, still visibly traumatized from earlier, slowly shakes his head. "I—I don't trust anything in that crate. I can still taste the last thing I touched…" He shudders.

"Yeah, no offense, but I ain't touchin' anything until we figure out what isn't gonna kill us," Leshawna adds, eyeing a chunk of greenish-gray meat with deep suspicion.

"Okay, okay, let's not panic," Trent says, holding up his hands in an attempt to calm the group. "Maybe we just—uh—figure out what's least disgusting and go from there?"

"Least disgusting?" Anne Maria scoffs, pointing to a half-melted can of what used to be soup. "Trent, look at this! 'Least disgusting' left the building a long time ago."

Jasmine exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose as she surveys the absolute disaster in front of her. "Alright, enough," she says firmly, her patience wearing thin. "Standing around complaining isn't gonna help us. We have to cook something, or we're done for. Let's just start sorting through this mess and see what—if anything—we can actually work with."

Before anyone can respond, Duncan suddenly throws his hands up. "Alright that tears it!" He marches over to the crate, grabs a random assortment of jars, and starts dumping their contents into a bowl without a second thought. "We can't sit here and be picky. Chef's gonna eat whatever garbage we make anyway, so who cares what it looks like?"

"Duncan, what the hell are you doing?" Heather gapes at him, watching in horror as he aggressively stirs together what looks like expired cream, some unidentifiable sauce, and a handful of… pickles?

"I'm making something happen, which is more than the rest of you!" Duncan fires back, still mixing with zero hesitation.

The rest of the team exchanges uneasy glances, but with The Dominators already deep into their cooking, they really don't have a choice. One by one, they reluctantly start picking through the crate, trying to find ingredients that won't immediately send Chef to the ER.

Even though they've finally started, it's clear that The Underdogs are way behind—and if they don't pull it together fast, this challenge is as good as lost.

Confessional: Courtney

The Underdogs

"So Duncan's big strategy is to just dump a bunch of random ingredients into a bowl and hope for the best? Ugh, typical. He rushes everything—just like he did during our entire relationship." She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms. "No planning, no logic, just impulse."

She exhales sharply, shaking her head. "But as much as I hate to admit it… we don't have time to sit here and debate. The Dominators are way ahead of us, and if we don't do something now, we're screwed. So… fine. Never thought I'd ever say this, but—" She huffs, clearly annoyed. "Duncan's plan makes the most sense. Let's go ahead and rush, I guess. It's literally our only shot at winning."

The Dominators, against all odds, are actually making real progress. Despite the revolting ingredients and the occasional gagging noises from various teammates, their dish is starting to come together.

Alejandro, ever the smooth operator, stirs their concoction with surprising precision. "Disgusting as this is, I must admit… we are working surprisingly well together." He smirks, carefully folding in a mixture of what might have once been cheese.

Brick, standing beside him, nods in agreement. "It's all about adapting, sir! Overcoming adversity builds strength!" He then immediately grimaces as he dumps in a ladle of something grayish-green. "Even if that adversity smells like a locker room after boot camp…"

Mike, currently in his Chester persona, shakes his head as he squints at their makeshift recipe. "Back in my day, we didn't waste food just 'cause it smelled bad! Ya build up a strong stomach, toughen up, and eat whatever's put in front of ya!"

Sammy rolls her eyes, her expression thick with disbelief and annoyance. "Oh my God, Mike, what are you even talking about? 'Back in your day'? Dude, you're 18. What, did you grow up in the 1800s or something? Were you out there churning butter and fighting in the Spanish-American War before you got on this show? Just—stop. Shut the hell up.."

Ella glances up from her task, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watches Sammy with an air of quiet understanding. "You know," she says softly, her tone surprisingly calm amid the chaos, "you're starting to sound a lot like your sister, Amy."

Sammy freezes, her posture stiffening as she turns her glare toward Ella. "What? No. I am nothing like Amy."

Ella raises an eyebrow, her gaze unwavering. "I mean, I'm just saying… the way you complain, how you're constantly judging everything, the way you freak out over the smallest stuff. It kinda screams 'Amy.'" She shrugs, not backing down. "I'm just saying, it's hard not to notice."

For a moment, Sammy looks taken aback. Her lips press into a tight line, clearly struggling to process what Ella just said. "Okay, first off," she snaps, her voice tinged with defensiveness, "I'm not running around calling people names or poking my nose into everyone's business like she did. I'm just telling it like it is. This is no time for Mike to start acting all theatrical again, and someone needs to point it out."

Ella watches her quietly for a beat, an unreadable look in her eyes. She doesn't respond right away, her expression thoughtful, before she gives a small, almost imperceptible sigh. "I didn't say it was a bad thing. Just… you're walking down the same path. That's all."

Sammy lets out a harsh laugh, but it lacks conviction. "Well, I'm not Amy," she snaps, her eyes darting away from Ella in an attempt to avoid the truth in her words. "And I don't plan on being her. Even if I did, it's not your job to worry about it." She forces a tight smile, her voice sharp and defensive. "So you just go ahead and do your little princess stuff, or whatever it is that you princesses do. Alright?" Sammy says, her tone dripping with condescension, as if she's talking down to Ella like she's beneath her.

Ella's expression softens slightly, but she doesn't flinch. She simply watches Sammy for a moment, her eyes steady and calm. "Alright," she replies coolly, not biting back or taking offense. She continues working, but there's a quiet understanding in her gaze that Sammy can't quite shake.

Confessional: Sammy

The Dominators

"Seriously, can someone explain to me why Mike can't just be Mike for once? He's always pulling these ridiculous acts like he's some old man named Chester, or a Russian woman named Svetlana whenever there's an obstacle, or this cocky know-it-all, Vito, when his shirt's off. And don't even get me started on that creepy Mal persona… We get it, Mike, you can act! Congrats, you're an Oscar-winning performer. But, like, dude, we're on a reality show for TWO MILLION DOLLARS, not some community theater gig! Just focus on the damn food challenge and quit with the weird character crap already."

Sammy pauses, her eyes widening as she stares into the camera, realization hitting her. "Oh my god… I really am turning into Amy.. Ella was right… I'm complaining, I'm judging people constantly, I just… UGH. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I need to stop before I turn into a full-on drama queen like her."

She shakes her head and sighs, clearly annoyed at herself.

Meanwhile, Scott is side-eyeing their "meat" with genuine suspicion. "Y'know, I grew up on a farm, and even I don't know what that is supposed to be." He prods it with a fork, watching it wobble in a way no solid food should.

From across the table, Scarlett adjusts her glasses, looking over their progress with a neutral—though slightly pained—expression. "As much as it pains me to be working under these circumstances, I must admit, the probability of our dish being somewhat edible is looking… promising."

Ella, ever the optimist, clasps her hands together. "See? Hard work and teamwork can make anything possible!"

A long silence follows. Then, Shawn, who has been eyeing their dish with intense paranoia, mutters, "Anything includes mutant parasites, just sayin'."

Despite Sammy's tension and the lingering unease between her and Ella, The Dominators are actually pulling ahead. They've managed to transform the disgusting pile of ingredients into something barely edible, but it looks like they're actually making progress. Their teamwork is surprisingly efficient, given the circumstances, and they've somehow managed to stay ahead of the competition. The stench of their creations fills the air, but they're powering through.

Just as the mood seems to be lifting for The Dominators, Chef steps forward with an unsettling grin on his face. He clears his throat, catching everyone's attention.

"Alright, listen up, you bunch of sorry excuses for cooks!" Chef calls out, his deep voice booming over the camp. "I've got a little surprise for ya. Since I'm so bored of watching you all pretend to cook, here's a fun twist for you."

The teams all glance at each other, concern creeping into their expressions.

"You're all gonna have to eat the disgusting mess you've created. That's right, no shortcuts today! You gotta eat your own creations before you even think about winning this challenge," Chef announces, his voice booming with a wicked grin plastered across his face. He's clearly enjoying the panic that's starting to spread.

"WHAT?!" Literally everyone from both teams screams in unison, their voices blending into a collective chorus of disbelief and horror.

"You heard me," Chef smirks, arms crossed over his chest. "Eat up! If you think you can just toss this stuff aside and move on to the next challenge, think again. You gotta finish it to move forward with the day."

The contestants exchange wide-eyed glances, the realization of what's ahead starting to sink in.

Owen's face turns pale. "I— I can't. I'll die… I'll literally die."

Duncan, trying to hold his composure, chimes in, "This isn't food, it's… it's a crime scene."

Leshawna looks like she might pass out just from the smell, but she's not about to give Chef the satisfaction. "Y'all better be messing with us," she says, voice trembling. "This better be some sick joke, Chef."

Chef chuckles darkly, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle unfolding in front of him. "Oh, this is no joke. You want to compete for two million bucks? You better have the stomach to back it up."

Jasmine stares at her plate, her face twisted in disgust. "I'm not eating this. This is—this is unsafe!"

"Come on, Jasmine," Bridgette says, trying to stay optimistic but clearly struggling with the idea of eating whatever is in front of her. "We've gotta do it, right? Just… close your eyes and swallow. Think of the challenge."

"Yeah, right. I think I'd rather take my chances with the next elimination," Jasmine mutters under her breath.

Meanwhile, the Dominators aren't faring any better.

"This is absurd," Scarlett mutters, eyeing her plate with suspicion. "Why would anyone—anyone—eat this?"

"Oh, I'm eating it," Mike says, flipping a spoonful of the concoction onto his fork, the grin on his face now twisted into one of determination. "You've got to, right? Let's show Chef we're tougher than this!"

Sammy shoots Mike a glare, her expression a mix of disbelief and frustration. "You're out of your mind," she spits out, but deep down, she knows she has no choice but to go along with it. Hesitantly, she takes a bite, her face immediately contorting in horror. "I'M GONNA FLIPPING KILL MYSELF," she exclaims, before gagging and spitting the bite out.

Mike, still chewing with an exaggerated grin plastered on his face, glances over at Sammy. "See? It's not so bad," he says, though his clenched jaw and strained expression make it clear he's forcing the words out as he swallows.

Sammy's eyes go wide, her whole body twitching as if she's trying to shake the taste from her mouth. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME? THIS TASTES LIKE ASS!" she yells, her voice high-pitched in a mix of disgust and frustration. She jumps around, trying desperately to escape the foul taste still clinging to her tongue, as if the mere act of moving might help.

"HOW WOULD YOU KNOW WHAT ASS TASTES LIKE?" Gwen shouts from across the room, slapping at a hamster that's decided her shoulder is a cozy new home. The hamster seems completely undeterred, continuing to scurry across her.

"UGH— YOU KNOW WHAT I MEANT!" Sammy snaps back, her voice rising with exasperation. She glares at Mike, still twitching in disgust. "This is absolute garbage, Mike! You can't be serious."

Mike gives a shrug, trying to play it off as no big deal, though he's clearly struggling just as much. "Eh, guess I'm just tougher than most. I survived worse, right?" He forces another bite down, his face turning a slightly greener shade with each chew.

"Yeah, I'm done," Duncan says, pushing his plate away. "I don't care what Chef says. No one should have to eat this."

Chef watches, barely holding in his laughter. "Better get it in, kids. You're not going anywhere until you finish it!"

The room is filled with the sound of gagging, complaints, and forced chewing, and Chef couldn't be happier. This is the chaos he lives for.

"Perfect…" Chef says with a satisfied chuckle, clearly enjoying the chaos unfolding before him.

Just then, Chris strolls into the scene, casually glancing around the mess of disgusted contestants. "Hey, Chef," he says, clearly not in the least bit concerned. "How's the challenge going? Are we getting the reactions we expected?"

Chef grins wider. "Oh, we're getting more than that. It's pure gold, Chris. You wouldn't believe the faces on these kids after tasting their own disasters. They're all about to lose it."

Chris raises an eyebrow, taking in the scene. "Well, I can't say I'm surprised. This is the kind of drama that makes the show worth watching. Keep up the good work, Chef. Keep them on edge."

Chef nods, still grinning like a cat who just got the cream. "Oh, I will. I'm loving every second of it."

Confessional: DJ

The Underdogs

DJ stares into the camera, his face a mixture of discomfort and longing. "I… I tried it. I really did. And let me tell ya, this isn't food. This is some kinda twisted science experiment gone wrong. It's just… wrong. Food's supposed to bring people together, make 'em feel good, you know? This? It's just makin' me wish I could be anywhere but here." He pauses, looking down at the ground as if imagining a better place. "I wish my momma was here. She's always so good at turning any meal into something special. No matter how bad the situation was, she'd know exactly what to do. If she was here, this mess would actually be edible. And I'd be feelin' a whole lot better about it too." He sighs wistfully. "But I guess I gotta get through this on my own… one bite at a time."

The chaos of the challenge rages on as both teams struggle to stomach their own disastrous creations. Each contestant grimaces after every bite, the pungent smell and vile texture overwhelming their senses.

Sammy glares at her plate with disgust, her hands shaking slightly. She takes another bite, and within seconds, her face contorts in agony. She looks like she's about to scream when she suddenly doubles over, gagging.

"Y'all—!" she sputters, holding a hand to her mouth. "I can't do it, I can't—"

She finally loses her battle with her stomach, vomiting all over her plate with a dramatic gagging sound, her face going ashen.

"That's it! I'm done!" She pushes the plate away, trembling in horror as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "Chef, you gotta be outta your mind if you think anyone's gonna eat this garbage!"

Owen takes a deep breath, psyching himself up as he forces himself to take a bite, practically holding his breath. But it doesn't take long for his face to turn green, and before he can react, his body does it for him. He vomits loudly, splattering his plate with the mess.

"Yeah, nope! I'm out! I thought I could handle it, but that? That's something else!" Owen says, wiping his mouth frantically as he stumbles away from his plate.

Leshawna watches them with a mix of pity and disbelief, but she's not feeling brave. She pokes at the food cautiously, trying to get a sense of the texture. But after hearing the others gag and seeing their reactions, she can't take it anymore. She shudders and quickly backs away.

"You gotta be kidding me," she mutters, holding her stomach. "I love food, but this? No way in the world. I'd rather starve."

Duncan stares at his plate with resignation, rolling his eyes as he lifts the spoon to his mouth, the anticipation clearly making him tense. He takes a bite, chews for a few seconds, and then just shakes his head.

"Yeah, nope," he says dryly. "Not gonna happen." He shoves the plate away, unable to hold it down any longer.

As more contestants follow suit, the vomiting continues, creating an unbearable scene. The mixture of shrill gags, heaving, and moans fills the air. The stench seems to grow worse by the second.

DJ is the last one left in his group still trying to be brave, his face a portrait of sorrow. "I can't believe this is happening," he mutters. "This isn't food. This isn't even edible."

He takes a small bite, but the moment it hits his stomach, he's done for. DJ grimaces, then immediately doubles over, gagging as he expels his bite onto the ground in front of him.

"I'm sorry, Mama, but this is beyond saving," he groans, wiping his mouth as he staggers away from his plate. "I knew this was gonna be bad, but this… this is just evil."

The contestants are all in various stages of horror, their faces pale, stomachs churning. The challenge has truly turned into a battle for survival—and it's only a matter of time before even the most resilient of them collapse.

Chef watches from the sidelines with a twisted grin, thoroughly entertained by the scene unfolding before him. "Music to my ears.." He says before chuckling. "These weak-stomached punks would never last a day in my kitchen, that's for sure."

Scott begins dumping the plate into a plastic bag behind everyone's back.

"Scott, what the hell are you doing?!" Alejandro angrily whispers.

"I'm getting rid of this SORRY excuse for food, what do you think? We shouldn't have to eat this." Scott whispers back.

"You're gonna make us LOSE, dirt boy. Cut it out!" Alejandro responds, trying to take the bag.

Scott, hunched over like a raccoon caught in the trash, frantically scoops the revolting sludge from his plate into a plastic bag behind his back. He's moving fast, glancing around to make sure Chef isn't watching.

Alejandro, who just so happens to look over, narrows his eyes and hisses under his breath, "Scott, what the hell are you doing?!"

Scott barely spares him a glance, keeping his hands moving. "What do you think I'm doing? I'm getting rid of this sorry excuse for food," he mutters, shoving another glob of the inedible mush into the bag. "We shouldn't have to eat this."

Alejandro grabs his wrist, forcing Scott to freeze. His voice is low and furious. "You're gonna make us lose, dirt boy. Cut it out!"

Scott yanks his arm back, scowling. "Oh, excuse me for not wanting to die from eating whatever the hell this is!" He glares at the disgusting mixture on his plate. "I don't know what's worse, the taste or the fact that it looks like something that crawled out of a sewer."

Alejandro rolls his eyes, his patience wearing thin. "We are winning, Scott. For once. If you pull this off and get us disqualified, I will personally make sure your elimination is as swift and brutal as possible."

Scott opens his mouth to argue, but before he can, Chef's booming voice suddenly cuts through the air.

"HEY! What's going on over there?"

Scott and Alejandro both freeze, eyes wide like two guilty kids caught stealing from the cookie jar.

"Scott could not stomach any of the food, Chef. He's puking up his guts in this trash can right now.. I'm just here to make sure he's okay." Alejandro says. Clearly that was a lie.

Alejandro doesn't miss a beat, his expression shifting into one of pure concern as he places a firm hand on Scott's back. "Scott just couldn't stomach the food, Chef," he says smoothly, voice laced with just the right amount of sympathy. "Poor guy's been puking his guts out in this trash can. I'm just here making sure he doesn't choke or, you know, die from whatever biohazard we just ate."

Scott blinks, momentarily thrown off by how quickly Alejandro spun the lie. But he catches on fast, leaning over the nearest trash can and dramatically gagging. "Ohhh man… it's—it's real bad," he groans, clutching his stomach for effect.

Chef eyes them suspiciously, arms crossed. "Hmph. Weak stomach, huh?"

Scott nods furiously, hamming it up. "Yeah, man, I—" He suddenly lurches forward, letting out the most exaggerated retching noise he can muster. He doesn't actually throw up, but the sheer effort he puts into making it sound like he is might as well earn him an acting award.

Alejandro pats his back, feigning concern. "See? Absolutely pitiful." He turns back to Chef, shaking his head. "Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if he's out for the rest of the challenge. He's just that bad off."

Chef narrows his eyes at them, clearly not entirely convinced, but also unwilling to deal with actual vomit if Scott really does hurl. With a grunt, he waves a dismissive hand. "Fine. But if he ain't dead in five minutes, he better get back to eating like everybody else."

As soon as Chef turns away, Alejandro straightens, lowering his voice. "You owe me."

Scott, still half-bent over the trash can, gives him a smirk. "Yeah, yeah. Let's just get through this without actually dying, alright?"

Confessional: Alejandro

The Dominators

Alejandro sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking back at the camera with a weary smirk. "Look, I'll admit it—cheating has crossed my mind. I mean, can you blame me? This isn't food; it's a health code violation. Scott's got the right instinct, but the wrong execution." He leans forward slightly, his smirk sharpening. "This is Total Drama. There are cameras in places you wouldn't believe. If you're going to cheat, you better know how to cover your tracks. And Scott?" He lets out a short chuckle, shaking his head. "Scott wouldn't know subtlety if it smacked him in the face with a rotten fish."

Chef claps his hands loudly, making everyone jump. "Alright, maggots! I'm givin' you thirty seconds before I come over there and see which one of you sorry excuses for chefs actually ate the most. So if you're behind, you better catch up fast!"

The contestants look around at the absolute disaster surrounding them—half-eaten, rotting food, contestants keeled over in pain, and the unmistakable stench of vomit filling the air.

But despite the universal suffering, one thing is glaringly obvious: The Underdogs are in way worse shape.

Most of their meals remain untouched, sitting there like a biohazard waiting to happen. Meanwhile, The Dominators, as awful as they feel, have at least forced more of their food down. And The Underdogs? Well… most of their food is still either in the pot or, more notably, on the floor.

"I think I just died and came back," Owen wheezes, clutching his stomach.

"Yeah? Well, I wish I stayed dead," Noah groans beside him, looking absolutely miserable.

"Face it, guys," Trent sighs, looking around at his team's untouched disaster. "We're done for."

Across the way, The Dominators aren't much better off, but at least they have the stomach to force some of it down. Alejandro wipes his mouth and gives a pained smirk. "We're winning this. No matter the cost."

Scott, still clutching his hidden bag of discarded food, mutters, "Yeah, real worth it…"

"Fifteen seconds!" Chef barks.

The Underdogs exchange panicked looks, their eyes darting between each other and the disaster zone that is their cooking station. Vomit. Half-eaten sludge. Entire untouched plates of their so-called "meal." This wasn't just bad—it was catastrophic.

"What the hell are we gonna do?!" Heather hisses, her voice sharp with desperation.

"There's nothing we can do," Courtney snaps back in a harsh whisper, her hands gripping the edge of the table like she's trying to keep herself upright. "We lost."

Heather's eyes narrow. "Oh, please. You don't admit defeat that easily. That's kind of your thing, Miss 'I Refuse to Lose.'"

Courtney clenches her jaw, looking around frantically for some kind of way out, but there is none. She gestures wildly at the mess in front of them. "Yeah? Well, I do when half the food we forced ourselves to eat is now BACK ON THE FLOOR."

Heather follows Courtney's gaze, taking in the absolute nightmare surrounding them. Owen is still groaning like he might throw up again, Trent looks like he's reconsidering every life choice that led him here, and Dakota is holding her stomach with an expression that reads I am about to die, and I will sue every single one of you.

Chef's countdown is getting lower.

Heather sucks in a breath through her teeth. "Okay… so, we're screwed."

"Yeah. Big time," Zoey mutters.

Chef enters the chaotic scene, his eyes scanning the mess before he even says a word. His hands are planted on his hips as he surveys both teams' cooking stations with a look of pure, sadistic satisfaction.

The Underdogs' station is a disaster—half-eaten food, vomit on the floor, some of them covered in food and/or vomit, and untouched jars of expired ingredients scattered around. The Dominators, however, have managed to hold it together, though their station isn't exactly pristine. There's still a bit of chaos, but they've clearly pushed through.

Chef steps up to the Underdogs' side first, poking around the remains of their "meal" with the edge of his knife. He raises an eyebrow.

"Interesting… Looks like someone tried to eat this stuff and then threw it right back up again," he muses. He lifts a jar of something that looks suspiciously like a mutated pickle and gives it a sniff, recoiling slightly. "Hmm. And I see what's left on the floor here. Real appetizing. I can tell you all really gave it your best effort." His voice drips with sarcasm.

Next, Chef moves to The Dominators' side, where the contrast is more stark. He lifts a spoonful of their dish, inspects it, and tastes it with a critical frown. He does the same with a few other items, all while nodding slowly as if considering something profound.

Finally, Chef steps back and crosses his arms. He looks from team to team, letting the tension build. The Underdogs, hoping against hope, can barely look him in the eye. The Dominators, tired but proud of their effort, await Chef's judgment.

Chef's lips curl into a smug grin.

"Alright, time's up," he announces, his voice booming in the tense silence. "Let's be real here—one team barely made it through the challenge while the other actually put something half-decent together, despite the disastrous ingredients."

He pauses, letting the words sink in.

"The winners are The Dominators." Chef says before turning to The Underdogs. "You guys lost. Y'all gotta vote someone off.

The Dominators all erupt into loud cheer as The Underdogs visibly deflate as Chef gives a cold, mocking smile and walks off, leaving them to stew in their defeat.

Confessional: Noah

The Underdogs

"So, here we are. All that talk about 'we won't lose again,' 'we gotta keep winning,' and 'we HAVE to stay in this hotel'… and we still end up losing. Classic. I mean, I can't say I'm shocked. I did say we'd probably lose this one. But it still feels like a waste. Not even Owen could handle that food; if he can't even stomach it, then we're all in trouble. But now the real question is… who gets the boot this time? I guess we'll figure that out later, but we're definitely in a tight spot. Man, this game is getting rough."

The Underdogs stand in tense silence for a moment, all eyes on each other as the reality of their defeat settles in. Their station is a mess, with barely a dent made in their creations, and the remnants of vomit scattered across the floor. The air feels thick with the weight of the loss, and they know the next few minutes will be critical in deciding who will be sent home.

Courtney is the first to break the silence, her voice laced with frustration. "Well, we clearly messed that up. I don't even know what we were thinking. Who's getting the boot?"

"I swear, if I have to look at one more plate of that garbage, I'm gonna lose it," Heather adds, her tone sharp but tinged with frustration. She runs a hand through her hair, trying to get her thoughts together. "But we can't let this defeat drag us down. We need to figure out who's gonna be the weakest link now."

Owen groans, still trying to shake the taste of the disgusting food from his mouth. "I'll admit, I thought we could handle anything, but this challenge… this challenge broke me." He flops down on the ground, his shoulders slumped. "I don't know how I'm gonna bounce back from that."

"Great," Noah mutters dryly, eyeing the mess. "So now we figure out who gets to go home. You all know I'm not exactly thrilled with this idea either, but we've gotta decide who's gonna be the dead weight moving forward."

Jasmine sighs deeply, glancing around at the team. "We can't keep making these mistakes if we want to keep staying in the game. But it's not just about cooking; we've gotta look at who's pulling their weight in the challenges too. I'm not saying anyone's specifically to blame, but…"

"I'll tell you what," Courtney interjects, crossing her arms. "I'm voting for the person who's least likely to be useful in the next challenge. We don't have time to waste, we need someone who can pull through."

The team starts to bicker quietly, their murmurs rising as they try to figure out who the weakest link is, but the tension is palpable. With a collective sigh, they know that no matter who they vote for, it won't be an easy decision.

"Wait a minute.." Jasmine says to herself.

Confessional: Jasmine

The Underdogs

"Okay, I think I have an idea of who to boot. DJ took like one spoonful of food and then quit. He barely did anything to help us out, and we all saw how that went down. We can't afford to have people not pulling their weight, especially when we're already on the edge of losing. I get it, the food was disgusting, but we all had to power through it. At this point, it's about who's really giving it their all. And, unfortunately, DJ's actions speak louder than his words."

Confessional: Gwen

The Underdogs

"I genuinely don't know who to vote off. I wasn't paying attention to who sucked the most or who sucked the least—I was just focused on not dying from that disgusting food. But if you ask me, The Dominators should've lost. I mean, Scott literally cheated, and no one's even talking about it. Just because they ate more than us doesn't mean they played fair. But… who am I kidding? We lost, and I still have to make a decision. Ugh, this sucks. Who goes home now?"

Confessional: Zoey

The Underdogs

"This is so annoying. I watched The Dominators from time to time, and I saw a lot of things that could've gotten them eliminated. First, Mike's personalities—God, I miss him… anyway, those were driving everyone nuts. Then there's Sammy, who was always getting on his case about it, and then going off on Ella just for pointing it out. And, of course, there's Scott flat-out cheating. WE played the game fair. Honestly, if you ask me, no one deserves to go home tonight. It's not like we didn't put in the effort, but we got screwed over by a bunch of wild circumstances."

Confessional: Bridgette

The Underdogs

"Okayyyy… so we lost. As if I didn't know we would lose.. the question that remains now.. who goes home?"

Confessional: Duncan

The Underdogs

"Well, we lost. That bites. Now we gotta vote someone off, that bites. But the real question is—who bit the most? Honestly, I was too busy trying not to hurl to keep track. Guess I'll just have to go with my gut on this one."

Confessional: Dakota

The Underdogs

"If you ask me, DJ should be the one going home. Because like, while we were all busy trying not to DIE, he just like, sat there, and watched us try not to die. Effort and teamwork is what gets you by in this game, and he showed none of that today. Bye bye mama's boy!"

Confessional: Trent

The Underdogs

Trent sits in the confessional, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Okay, hold up—when did Dakota of all people start caring about effort? Like, seriously? What exactly did she do besides open that cursed jar, scream her lungs out over a mutant cockroach, and then drop it?" He scoffs, shaking his head. "And then she wants to talk about how effort gets you by in this game? Opening a jar and immediately losing your mind over it is not effort."

The Underdogs sit around the ceremonial fire pit, looking exhausted, disgusted, and, for some, still a little queasy from the challenge. Chris stands before them, arms crossed, his foot tapping impatiently.

He takes a deep breath, then—

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" he suddenly shouts, making half the team jump. "FIVE. VOTES." He holds up a single hand with his fingers splayed out for emphasis. "There are FOURTEEN of you sitting here, and only FIVE of you actually voted?! What is wrong with you people?!"

The team sits in awkward silence, shifting uncomfortably.

Chris lets out a loud, dramatic sigh, rubbing his temples. "Most of you have been on this show for SEVEN SEASONS. SEVEN! You should know how the game works by now! You have to vote someone off! That's literally the whole point! You don't just sit around twiddling your thumbs hoping someone else makes the decision for you!"

He glares at them, pacing back and forth in front of the fire. "What, did you all just conveniently forget how this works? Did the mutant cockroach erase your memories? 'Cause guess what—I don't care if you don't want to vote someone off! I don't care if you think 'oh, nobody deserves to go home this time'! This isn't some preschool group project, people! Someone has to go! You think I like sitting around waiting for votes that never come?!"

He stops pacing, turns, and points directly at them. "No. I do not. So let me make this crystal clear—if this happens again, I will personally pick someone to eliminate myself. And trust me, you don't want that."

Chris sighs again, straightens his jacket, and shakes his head in disappointment. "Now, thanks to you slackers, I had to take forever tallying up the tiny number of votes that did come in." He dramatically pulls out the tray of marshmallows. "So let's get this over with before I lose my entire will to live."

Chris takes a deep breath, visibly trying to calm himself down before shaking his head in disappointment. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, he grabs the tray of marshmallows.

One by one, he tosses marshmallows to the contestants, not even trying to hide his frustration. "Duncan. Gwen. Heather. Courtney. Trent. Jasmine. Noah. Zoey. Bridgette. Leshawna. Anne Maria. Dakota."

Each person catches their marshmallow, some more relieved than others. But when Chris reaches the last marshmallow, he looks down at it, then up at the final two—DJ and Owen.

"And the final marshmallow goes to…" He pauses for dramatic effect, dragging out the silence while DJ and Owen both look nervous.

"Owen."

Owen lets out a breath of relief as he catches his marshmallow, while DJ sighs, already knowing what's coming.

Chris shrugs. "4 votes against DJ, and 1 vote.. against Dakota."

The camera turns to Trent, and he looks at it sheepishly.

"Welp, DJ, guess this just wasn't your night. You didn't eat, you didn't help, and apparently, people actually remembered that when voting this time. Shocking, I know."

DJ stands up, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah… I get it. I just couldn't stomach it, man."

Chris grins. "Well, lucky for you, you won't have to stomach anything here anymore! Say hello to the Boat of Losers, buddy!"

As Chef comes up to escort DJ away, the rest of The Underdogs watch in silence. Some look guilty, others just relieved that they weren't the ones going home. DJ takes one last glance at his team.

"I just want y'all to know.. I don't blame y'all for voting me off. I have a weak stomach and I didn't put in much effort today. Hope y'all the next challenge." DJ says, nodding before walking off into the darkness.

And just like that, The Underdogs are down another member.

Confessional: Gwen

The Underdogs

"Man, why does DJ have to be so… nice? I feel like total crap now. I mean, I didn't vote for him, but I can't even blame anyone for doing it. None of us really did much today, and it's hard to point fingers when the whole team was pretty much just… trying not to die. DJ's just too sweet to be going home, and that sucks. But yeah, I didn't vote for him, I'm not sure who did. But honestly, I just couldn't decide. We all kind of dropped the ball today, so I'm not even sure who deserved to go home."

Gwen lets out a frustrated sigh, clearly conflicted. "This is the messiest elimination yet. How are we supposed to pull this together when we can't even agree on who was the worst?" She shrugs, looking defeated.

Chris turns to the camera, his smirk widening as he leans in slightly, making sure to capture the audience's attention.

"Another one bites the dust! The Underdogs are now down to 13 players, but who will be the next to pack their bags? Will they pull together and fight through the chaos, or will they fall apart just like DJ? With tensions running high, you can bet things are about to get a lot messier. Who will rise to the challenge? Who will falter under the pressure? The stakes are higher than ever, and with the game heating up, only the strongest will survive. Find out next time, on Total…Drama…Generational Warfare!"

He smirks one last time and turns his back to the camera as the screen fades to black, the suspense palpable.

Chapter Text

Episode 9:  " Escape The Drama! "

"Last time on Total Drama: Generational Warfare…" Chef says, sounding like he'd rather die than do this recap.

"I decided to make these sorry excuses for contestants cook up the NASTIEST, FOULEST, most EGREGIOUSLY HORRIBLE meal they possibly could. And lemme tell ya, they did NOT disappoint in making a total disaster outta my kitchen." He finished, groaning as the memory comes flooding back.

Cut to Duncan tossing random mystery ingredients into a pot like some kind of mad scientist. Courtney shrieks as the mixture bubbles over in a grotesque green sludge, spilling onto the counter. Jasmine watches with a look of pure regret.

"The Underdogs? Oh, they were a MESS. Duncan threw in whatever he could find, Courtney had a full-on meltdown, Jasmine tried—and failed—to keep things together, and Dakota? She lost her dang mind over a flying cockroach."

Cut to Dakota screaming and flailing her arms as a cockroach lands on her shoulder. She sprints across the kitchen, knocking over a bowl of some unidentifiable sludge in the process.

"Meanwhile, The Dominators actually managed to keep it together. Mostly." He snorts.

Cut to Mike—currently in his Chester persona—wagging his finger at the camera.  " Back in my day, we didn ' t waste food just  ' cause it smelled bad! "  Sammy groans and facepalms.

Cut to Scott sneaking a plastic bag behind his station, shoveling disgusting food into it.

"Yeah, Mike kept bouncing between his weird personalities, Sammy picked a fight with literally everyone, and Scott? That dirt boy tried to pull a fast one and dump his food behind my back."

Cut to Scott stuffing food into the bag. Alejandro suddenly yanks it away, whispering angrily,  " You ' re gonna make us LOSE, dirt boy. Cut it out! "

"But at least they ATE their disgusting creations, unlike the Underdogs, who turned my kitchen into a puke-covered war zone." He shakes his head in disappointment.

Cut to Gwen taking a bite before immediately gagging. Trent, horrified, turns away as Owen clutches his stomach. Cut to Leshawna and Noah dry-heaving in the background as vomit splatters onto the floor.

"Then came the elimination, and you know what these morons did? MOST OF THEM DIDN'T EVEN VOTE. SEVEN seasons, and they STILL don't understand how this game works!" His voice rises with frustration.

Cut to Chris standing at the elimination ceremony, looking completely exasperated.  " SERIOUSLY?! ONLY FIVE VOTES?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?! "

Cut to DJ sighing as he stands to leave.  " I don ' t blame y 'all,"  he says with a shrug.  " I have a weak stomach and I didn ' t put in much effort today. Hope y ' all win the next challenge. "  He walks off into the darkness.

"DJ—big guy, soft heart—took the fall. He knew he didn't put in any effort, and he went out with class. Too bad class don't win you two million dollars."

Cut to The Underdogs looking defeated as Chris smirks.

"Now the Underdogs are down a player, The Dominators are still gloating, and everyone's more miserable than ever—just how I like it. So, what's next? Who's gonna step up? Who's gonna crack under pressure? And how many more messes am I gonna have to clean up?" He mutters the last part under his breath, rolling his eyes.

Cut to A shot of the morning sun rising over the Total Drama camp, signaling a new day of chaos.

"Find out right now, on… TOTAL! DRAMA! GENERATIONAL WARFARE!"

"Man, I swear, if I gotta watch one more kid throw up, I'm walkin'."

He groans dramatically before walking off. "Stupid little ripoff of a reality show…"

(Cue the TDGW Intro)

The Dominators lounge in pure luxury, sprawled across plush chairs and sofas as they play Go Fish on a glass table. The air smells of vanilla-scented candles, and the soft hum of a massage chair adds to the room's relaxation. The contrast between this and the absolute horror show of the last challenge is almost comical.

"Got any fives?" Geoff asks, stretching his legs onto the coffee table like he owns the place.

"Go fish," Lindsay says cheerfully, flipping her hair as she draws a card.

Sammy, arms crossed and lips pursed, watches the game unfold with judgment practically radiating off of her. She lets out a scoff as Lindsay giggles at her card.

"Seriously, you're just gonna giggle and not even strategize? That's why you suck at these things," Sammy says, rolling her eyes.

Lindsay blinks. "But… it's Go Fish?"

"Exactly," Sammy replies flatly.

"Oh, come on," Scott groans, flipping through his own cards. "If we gotta play this stupid game, can we at least not turn it into another one of your drama moments?"

"Drama moment?!" Sammy snaps, glaring at him. "I'm just saying, if you're gonna play, you might as well try to be good at it."

"Oh, because you're the expert on that now?" Sky chimes in, raising a brow.

Sammy huffs and sinks back into the couch, crossing her arms tighter. "Whatever."

Alejandro smirks slightly, observing her with intrigue. "You know, Sammy, for someone who's always complained about Amy bossing you around, you're starting to sound an awful lot like her."

Sammy stiffens, eyes narrowing. "I am NOT like Amy!"

"Mmm-hmm." Alejandro leans back, clearly entertained.

"I dunno," Dawn says, tapping her chin. "Your aura has been feeling… sharper lately."

"Who's even talking to you? Go talk to the river or something.." Sammy exclaims.

Ella watches Sammy's mood worsen with every passing minute, her sharp remarks only getting sharper.

"Sammy," Ella starts cautiously, her voice soft, "maybe you could try being a little more patient? We're all here to relax, and stressing over a card game isn't going to help anything."

Sammy glares at her, almost as if she's offended by the suggestion. "Oh, and what? You think you're the peacekeeper now? I get it, Ella, you wanna be Miss Perfect. Well, newsflash, not everyone wants to be a damn fairy princess!"

Ella blinks, taken aback by the sudden venom in Sammy's words. She tries to stay calm, but the irritation is evident in her voice now. "That's not what I meant. I'm just trying to—"

"No, no, no," Sammy interrupts, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "What you really mean is that you think I'm overreacting, right? Well, maybe if you paid a little more atten-"

Ella's eyes widen, her words sounding genuinely frustrated and aggravated, something the team still isn't used to seeing or hearing in her. She takes a deep breath, trying to center herself, cutting off Sammy in the process. "My God—I'm just asking you to calm down."

Sammy scoffs loudly. "Calm down? What's the point? I'm not the one who's acting like a total fake around here." She shoots a pointed look at Ella. "Maybe you're the one who should calm down before you start getting on my nerves."

Ella's normally gentle face hardens just enough for everyone to feel the shift. She sets her crackers aside and straightens her robe, her voice quieter now—but firmer. "I don't know what's going on with you, Sammy," Ella says evenly, "but you don't get to talk to me like that just because you're in a mood."

The room goes still. Even Geoff, who was mid-card draw, pauses and glances between them.

Sammy stares back at Ella, jaw clenched, defiant—but something flickers in her expression. Regret? Shame? Maybe both. She looks away, mumbling something under her breath that no one catches.

Mike, who has now shifted back into himself from Svetlana, stands up slowly from the massage chair. "Okay, okay, let's cool it before Chris walks in and uses this as an excuse to throw us into a pool of live eels or something."

"Agreed," Brick says, standing from his yoga mat. "We need unity, not a meltdown."

Scott scoffs. "Unity? From this group?" He waves a card. "I've got better odds drawing a royal flush from Go Fish."

Sky rolls her eyes. "Not helpful."

Ella draws in a breath, visibly trying to reset herself. "I'm going to go check on the therapy parrot," she says quietly, standing up and walking toward the back patio. "I think I need a little peace."

As she leaves, the energy in the room dips into awkward silence.

Sammy sits back into the cushions, arms crossed tightly, staring blankly at the floor. No one says anything for a moment—until Lindsay, completely oblivious, pipes up again.

"Does anyone have any sevens?"

Alejandro chuckles lightly, breaking the tension with a wry smile. "Now that's the strategy I like to see."

Geoff raises his hand, flashing his card. "Boom! I do got a seven!"

Sammy doesn't look up, but her jaw tightens again.

Mike glances toward the patio where Ella walked out, then back to Sammy. He doesn't say anything—just watches. Quiet. Thoughtful.

Dawn's eyes remain on Sammy too, her expression more concerned than critical. But she doesn't speak.

The Dominators return to their game, at least on the surface. But underneath the card draws and spa comfort, something is clearly off-kilter now—like a string pulled too tight, just waiting to snap.

The mess hall is a far cry from the paradise the Dominators are basking in. The walls are dull, the lights flicker with a depressing buzz, and the air smells like old socks mixed with mystery meat. The Underdogs sit scattered around metal tables, poking at unidentifiable slop with the enthusiasm of people chewing wet cardboard.

Duncan sits near the corner, his arms on the table, pushing the gray-green mess around his tray with a bent plastic fork. His normally smug expression is absent—replaced by something more thoughtful. Troubled, even.

He doesn't say a word. Doesn't crack a joke. Doesn't even try to hide how far gone his thoughts are. They're stuck on her. Heather. That smug, sharp, unbearable girl he somehow can't stop thinking about.

It's too soon, he tells himself. Five episodes? That's like, what… a week in real time?

But still… he can't deny what's been building. Every stolen glance. Every sarcastic jab that ended with her smirking instead of slapping him. Every time she chose him to team up with.

He's been through this before—Courtney, Gwen—and each time, it burned out ugly. But this? This feels different. Or at least it could be.

He wants to say something. Not confess, not outright—just say something. But what if she laughs in his face? What if she tells him he's reading too much into it?

Before he can spiral any deeper, a voice breaks through his thoughts like a spotlight cutting into fog.

"Hey," Heather says, and there's that smirk—the one that should annoy him, but now just… makes his heart do that annoying thing.

He looks up, trying to play it cool. "What?"

She swings a leg over the bench and plops down next to him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Look what I snagged from the hotel…"

From behind her back, she reveals a plate—steaming, golden, and perfectly toasted. Two mouthwatering and warm grilled cheeses. The scent alone makes half the Underdogs look over in jealousy.

Duncan raises an eyebrow. "You serious?"

"I risked a lot for this," Heather says proudly. "Some Dominator left their plate unattended during a facial steam. I took it and ran like hell."

Duncan huffs a laugh, finally letting the corner of his mouth curl upward. "You would."

She shrugs, pretending to be casual, but her eyes linger on him for a second longer than they need to. "You looked like you needed a win today."

He glances back at her—really looks at her—and for a moment, the sarcasm fades from his expression. His voice is quieter when he says, "You didn't have to do that."

Heather smirks again, but it's softer this time. "Yeah, well… don't get used to it."

He chuckles, shaking his head. Their shoulders are close—closer than necessary—and neither of them seems to mind.

They eat in silence, but it's a comfortable silence. One that says more than either of them is ready to admit.

And somewhere deep down, Duncan starts thinking maybe it wouldn't be so weird to say something.

Maybe not today.

But soon.

The rest of the Underdogs gather around the table, poking and prodding at their questionable meals while Heather and Duncan sit off to the side, sharing contraband grilled cheese and quiet glances. The others, meanwhile, are far less at peace.

"Well, this looks… edible adjacent," Noah mutters, inspecting his slop like it's about to grow legs and attack.

Owen shovels in a giant spoonful anyway. "Honestly? Could be worse. Tastes like if sadness had a flavor, but I've eaten worse during road trips."

Bridgette winces as she cautiously takes a bite. "Owen, what kind of road trips are you going on?"

"Don't ask," Gwen says dryly, resting her chin on one hand. She eyes the food, then eyes Owen. "But I'm betting they involve gas station sushi and some kind of regret."

Courtney crosses her arms and glares at her tray like she's willing it to catch fire. "This is punishment. That's what this is. Literal punishment for losing."

Zoey nods with a frown. "DJ didn't deserve to go home. He was just… overwhelmed."

Leshawna lets out a sigh. "Poor guy didn't even try. I don't blame him, though. That challenge was foul."

"I would've eaten that whole plate if I had to," Jasmine says calmly, folding her arms. "You just gotta block out the smell, the taste, the texture… basically all your senses."

Dakota stabs her slop with a plastic fork, her nose wrinkling. "And your dignity. Don't forget your dignity."

Anne Maria tosses her hair back dramatically. "Please. I only took one bite, and my lip filler almost jumped ship."

"Maybe it saw the food and tried to escape," Noah offers with a smirk.

Anne Maria narrows her eyes. "You wanna lose teeth, book boy?"

"Tempting," Noah says, unbothered, "but I have to survive long enough to watch someone else get voted off first."

Trent strums a few soft chords on the guitar slung across his lap, trying to keep things mellow. "Can't believe we were eating like kings just a couple episodes ago."

"Right?" Bridgette says, sighing. "The spa hotel already feels like a dream."

Courtney glances toward the far side of the room, narrowing her eyes. "Well, some people look like they're still dreaming."

Everyone's gaze follows hers—straight to Duncan and Heather.

Zoey raises an eyebrow. "They're sharing grilled cheese?"

Noah lets out a low whistle. "How romantic. Nothing says 'doomed flirtation' like contraband dairy."

Gwen blinks, looking between them, then back at the table. Her expression tightens just slightly.

"I give it two episodes," Leshawna says, reaching for her water. "Either they kiss or they murder each other."

Jasmine nods. "Or both. Probably both."

Anne Maria rolls her eyes. "Ugh, they're acting like they're in a teen drama. We get it, you have chemistry. Buy a diary."

Trent chuckles softly. "At least they're happy. Or… something like it."

Dakota pops a vitamin gummy from her purse. "Meanwhile, we're over here eating radioactive paste. This feels personal."

The camera pans over their grim faces, the cold lighting emphasizing the misery. The mess hall smells vaguely of burnt plastic and despair.

Owen raises his spoon again. "Well, bottoms up, guys. Here's to the Underdogs."

Leshawna clinks her fork against his spoon. "May we somehow survive another day without puking or punching someone."

They all groan in agreement.

And in the background, Duncan and Heather continue to laugh quietly, just out of earshot—but definitely not out of sight.

The metal doors of the mess hall swing open with their usual loud, obnoxious clang, causing several Underdogs to jump in their seats. In strides Chris McLean, grinning like he just walked in on a juicy secret—which, knowing Chris, he probably did.

"Morning, losers!" he calls out, hands in his pockets, sunglasses still on despite being indoors. "How's my favorite team of underachievers doing today?"

The main group sitting at the table—Noah, Gwen, Owen, Zoey, Courtney, Bridgette, Trent, Leshawna, Anne Maria, Jasmine, and Dakota—groan collectively, each in their own exhausted way.

"Still recovering from the food trauma," Noah mutters.

"Emotionally or physically?" Gwen asks.

"Yes," he replies.

"Great," Chris says with a smirk, walking up to their table and giving them a mock-sincere thumbs up. "Well, no time for healing or bonding. The next challenge starts in exactly one hour. So shake off the pity party and suit up for disaster."

The team groans again.

"Oh, and before I forget," Chris adds, casting a glance toward the back of the mess hall where Duncan and Heather sit at their own little table, noticeably separate from the rest. "Looks like some of you are already pairing off for the apocalypse. Adorable."

Duncan immediately stops chewing mid-bite, his shoulders stiffening.

Heather, mid-laugh at something Duncan just said, slowly turns her head toward Chris, raising an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Chris shrugs. "I'm just saying… someone's been sneaking snacks from the hotel, and someone else has been real smiley about it. I mean, grilled cheese? That's practically a love language."

The main table bursts into laughter, groans, or both.

"Oh man, this is better than reality TV," Owen says with a mouthful of slop. "Wait…"

Courtney narrows her eyes. "Wow. A new showmance. Just what we needed."

Zoey covers her grin with her hand. "They do seem… close."

Leshawna smirks. "It's about time someone admitted something around here."

Heather crosses her arms, face completely neutral but eyes glinting. "I think you've officially run out of things to poke fun at, Chris."

"On the contrary," Chris says, flashing his trademark smirk. "I never run out of material. But don't worry, Heather, Duncan—your budding camp romance is safe with me. Totally won't exploit it for content."

Duncan leans back in his chair, arms crossed, trying to play it cool. "Tch. Whatever. It's not like that."

"Sure," Chris replies, already walking backwards toward the exit. "That's what they all say. Until the slow-motion montage hits."

He points two finger guns at the group. "One hour, Underdogs. Try not to fall in love—or apart—before then."

The doors slam shut behind him, leaving the room in a stunned, half-embarrassed silence.

Anne Maria lets out a dramatic sigh. "Ugh. I can't even enjoy the drama when I'm this hungry."

"Hey," Trent says, nudging his tray away. "At least he didn't say anything about us."

Courtney scowls. "Don't jinx it."

Heather glances at Duncan. He glances back. For a split second, neither of them says a word.

Then, as casually as possible, Heather mutters, "You gonna finish the rest of that sandwich?"

Duncan pushes it toward her without a word, a crooked little smile forming on his face.

Zoey, not even trying to be subtle, whispers to Bridgette, "Okay, but that was kinda cute."

Confessional: Heather

The Underdogs

Heather sits stiffly in the confessional chair, arms crossed, her expression flat—at first.

"Okay. So maybe Duncan isn't as annoying as I originally thought," she begins, tone sharp like she's trying to convince herself more than the camera. "He's… tolerable. And funny. And not a complete idiot like the rest of them."

She pauses, eyes narrowing. "But that doesn't mean anything. Just because we've teamed up in a few challenges, or because we sneak snacks together, or because he—ugh—actually listens sometimes…"

She trails off. Her face shifts slightly.

"…and yeah, okay, maybe he's kinda hot—"

Her eyes widen in real time, and she freezes like she just heard herself say it.

"Wait—no. No! I didn't mean that. That was—I was talking about—ugh, shut up, turn the camera off!" she snaps, reaching forward to cover the lens.

Cut to black.

Confessional: Bridgette

The Underdogs

Bridgette sits with her elbows on her knees, hands folded in front of her and a knowing smirk tugging at her lips.

"I mean… come on. Heather and Duncan? We all saw that coming from, like, light years away. You throw two sharp-tongued, stubborn people together, let 'em roast each other for a few episodes, and bam—suddenly it's stolen snacks and secret glances."

She laughs, shaking her head. "What's wild is that Courtney was his first real relationship. Courtney. Like, no offense or anything, but that never made sense to me. Strict rule-follower dating rule-breaker? Girl, please. That was a countdown to chaos."

Bridgette shrugs. "Honestly? Heather makes more sense. She's just as intense, but at least she speaks his language: sarcasm, sneakiness, and side-eye."

The peaceful hum of spa relaxation is interrupted by the all-too-familiar sound of a microphone clicking on. The lights flicker once—not ominously, but just enough to remind everyone who's in charge.

Suddenly, the doors swing open, and in struts Chris McLean, grinning like the cat that got into the cream… or more accurately, the spa cucumbers.

"Helloooo, Dominators!" Chris announces, stretching his arms like he owns the joint. "Hope you're enjoying your foot rubs, fizzy drinks, and general lack of trauma—because it's not gonna last."

Sky lifts her head off her massage pillow. "Oh no…"

Chris paces dramatically through the lounge, plucking a cracker from a tray as he goes.

"Just wanted to give my favorite team a little heads-up," he says. "You've got one hour—one—to finish your pampering, exfoliating, or whatever Dawn's doing over there with that chakra stone and a lamp from the gift shop."

Dawn calmly raises the crystal. "It's not a lamp. It's a portal to inner tranquility."

Chris ignores her completely. "You'll be meeting me at the challenge zone in 60 minutes. And just a heads-up—it's gonna be a doozy. Just the kind of thing to mess up a perfect pedicure."

Alejandro raises a brow. "Should we be packing parachutes or life vests?"

Chris just grins wider. "Let's just say… hope you're not afraid of..being buried alive I guess?"

The room goes quiet.

Geoff laughs nervously. "Hah! He's joking… right?"

Chris claps him on the back with mock encouragement. "Wouldn't that be nice?"

With that, he struts out just as dramatically as he entered, leaving an uneasy stillness in his wake.

Confessional: Dawn

The Dominators

"Chris's aura was particularly chaotic today. Something dark is coming. I've seen it in the salt bath."

She holds up a bowl of spa salt, staring at it with genuine concern.

"Very dark indeed."

The teams stand on their designated metal platforms, each one etched with their team logo—The Dominators on the left, The Underdogs on the right. The ocean breeze sweeps through the area, but something about the space feels… too quiet.

Chris McLean steps out onto the scene, holding his signature remote and smiling like a man who knows something awful is about to happen.

"Well, well, well. You survived last episode's dinner disaster. Some of you even lived to tell the tale without vomiting. Gold star."

He paces between the two team platforms like a game show host on the edge of a breakdown.

"But today, we're cranking up the pressure. The stakes? Higher. The challenge? Deeper."

Chris stops, arms outstretched.

"Welcome to The Great Descent. A six-level, underground escape course where your team's only goal… is to make it out first."

A few murmurs ripple through both teams.

"Here's how it works," Chris says, snapping his fingers. "Each team will be dropped—literally—into your own private track of the escape course. There are six chambers. Each one sealed. Locked. And totally puzzle-fied."

He points down at the platforms beneath the contestants' feet.

"These babies aren't just stylish. They're also trap doors. Once I hit this button, down you go."

Dakota grimaces and looks at the platform nervously.

Chris continues. "Every room will contain clues—some obvious, some hidden, some designed to make you question your intelligence. Figure out the riddle, unlock the door, and advance. Easy, right?"

Noah mutters, "Nothing about this sounds easy."

Chris ignores him and presses on. "The first team to break through all six rooms and reach the end will find a big, shiny, red button. Slam it, and boom—your victory is locked in. And as a reward?"

He grins wide. "You'll be launched back to the surface by our brand-new, very untested Challenge Catapult. High-speed. High-impact. High-larious."

Sky narrows her eyes. "Launched?"

"Oh, it's safe," Chris lies effortlessly. "Mostly. Probably. Let's call it 'character-building.'"

He spins to face the camera. "Now, I know what you're thinking. What happens to the losing team?"

He turns back, smile widening.

"Well… they stay down there. And keep solving. And sweating. And arguing. Until we're bored. Or until Chef gets hungry enough to go fetch you."

A few contestants shift uncomfortably.

Chris claps once. "So! Think fast. Work together. Don't cry too loud. And may the best team hit that button first."

He pulls the remote from his belt, waves it in the air like he's about to start a fireworks show, and winks.

"Let the descent… begin!"

CLICK.

WHOOSH.

Both platforms instantly vanish, dropping each team into darkness below. Screams, thuds, and echoes bounce up from the chasms, followed by the sound of metal doors slamming shut above them.

Chris chuckles and walks away without a care in the world.

One second, the Dominators were standing confidently atop their glowing team platform, basking in the sun and wondering what kind of ridiculous horror show Chris had in store this time. The next? Gravity betrayed them.

With an abrupt mechanical clunk, the platform vanished from beneath their feet—no warning, no countdown, just gone.

"WHOA—!" Geoff barely had time to yell before they all plummeted into darkness like panicked bowling pins. Screams, flailing limbs, and one dramatic falsetto wail from Scott echoed through the narrow shaft.

They landed in a heap. Some landed harder than others.

"Ow! My face!" Scott groaned, sprawled flat on the stone floor, his limbs bent at angles that defied geometry.

"My butt bone just met the Earth's core," Sky winced, rolling onto her side. "I think my spine filed for workers' comp."

"Is this… velvet?" Lindsay murmured as she touched the dusty ground. "It's like luxury dirt…"

Alejandro stood up smoothly, brushing imaginary specks from his shirt like he hadn't just belly-flopped onto hard stone. "Well. That was inelegant."

From the corner, Shawn screamed, "WE'RE TRAPPED! THIS IS HOW THE MOLES START!" He spun in circles before Ella grabbed his shoulders to stop the spiral.

"It's okay!" she chirped. "We're underground, not under siege. …I think."

Dawn sat cross-legged on a random crate, already meditating. "This place has seen many traumas. The walls are whispering," she said solemnly.

"Cool, maybe they'll whisper us an exit," Scott snapped.

Brick, ever the soldier, scrambled upright and did a perimeter check. "The chamber is approximately ten meters wide, dimly lit, stone walls… likely reinforced. No obvious ventilation. We're in a hostile environment."

"I think I sprained my sarcasm muscle," Sammy muttered from the floor.

Geoff, meanwhile, was inspecting a glowing keypad on a giant, rusty door up ahead. "Yo. You guys think this is, like, the first test or something?"

Mike—mid-switch into Chester, complete with a slouch and raspy voice—croaked, "Back in my day, we didn't test our brains underground. We used 'em to survive cave bears!"

"Oh, not this again," groaned Scott.

Svetlana immediately took over, springing into a one-legged handstand. "Balance is key for subterranean challenges!" she declared.

Brick paused to glare. "Could you not do gymnastics in an enclosed crisis zone?!"

As the team slowly got to their feet (or in Mike's case, flipped), they took in the room: a windowless stone box lit by flickering overhead lights, strange symbols etched into the walls, and a looming iron door marked with a glowing number 1.

Geoff whistled low. "Alright, this is either gonna be really cool… or really deadly."

"Probably both," Sammy muttered.

And with that, the Dominators stood surrounded by mystery, bickering, bruises, and more than a little dread.

The iron door marked with a glowing red 1 loomed at the front of the room, totally locked. Nearby, strange symbols lined the walls—spirals, stars, weird claw-like shapes—and a massive stone slab in the center of the room had what looked like a riddle carved into it.

Sky leaned closer and read aloud, "'Only those who see beyond the obvious shall proceed. The key lies within what's missing.'"

Geoff blinked. "Okay, what does that mean?"

"I think it means it's riddle time," Dawn said, eyes scanning the walls like they were speaking to her in Morse code.

Sammy tilted her head. "What's missing? Like, something literal? Or metaphorical? Are we missing someone? Is this a philosophical thing?"

"Girl, it's a door," Scott said. "It ain't that deep."

Ella pointed toward one of the walls where a set of symbols looked…off. "Look! These ones are repeated all around except here—this one's different."

Alejandro raised an impressed brow. "Nice catch."

He pressed the odd symbol, and the slab in the center shifted, grinding loudly as it revealed four buttons shaped like moons in different phases.

"What now?" Lindsay asked, poking one with a well-manicured finger.

"WAIT—don't just press random stuff!" Brick shouted. "That could trigger a spike trap!"

"Or a lava pit," Shawn muttered darkly.

"But nothing exploded," Lindsay said with a shrug. "So, like, I think it's okay?"

"Maybe we need to press the right phase in order," Mike offered—though his voice had turned gruffer. "Like the cycle of the moon, ya whippersnappers."

"Alright, so new moon, waxing, full, waning?" Sky asked, pacing.

"Try it," said Sammy, already eyeing the ceiling for falling boulders, just in case.

One by one, they pressed the phases in order.

The room went silent.

Then—CLUNK.

The big iron door let out a hiss as the red number 1 turned green and slid open.

"YEAH, baby!" Geoff shouted, pumping his fist. "We're outta here!"

"Well done, team," Alejandro said coolly, like he hadn't done absolutely nothing.

"I have never been more suspicious of a quiet door opening," Brick muttered as they moved toward the hallway beyond.

They stepped through, ready—or at least kind of ready—for whatever nightmare room came next.

The collective scream was  beautiful .

"WAAAHHHHH—"

BOOM!

The team crash-landed into a room of their own—nearly identical in structure to the Dominators' first chamber, but maybe dustier and with a much stronger scent of mold and crushed dreams.

"AGH! MY KNEES!" Owen shouted, face-down on the floor.

"Is everyone alive?" Jasmine asked, already helping Zoey up.

Noah groaned from underneath Trent. "Define alive…"

"I think I chipped a nail," Dakota muttered. "I just got these done."

Courtney rolled off her back and glared at Chris's hidden cameras. "I swear, if this is another slime room, I'm going to sue."

Heather brushed herself off and flicked her hair dramatically. "Well. That was humiliating."

Duncan, who'd landed sideways next to her, let out a low grunt. "I don't know… you landed pretty gracefully. For you."

Heather blinked at him. Was that a compliment? "Did your brain get jarred loose on the way down?"

"I'm just saying," he shrugged with a sly grin.

She muttered something under her breath—maybe a sarcastic "thanks," maybe not—but the blush in her ears said enough.

Meanwhile, Gwen examined the new room. "Same setup as last time. Locked door, weird symbols, creepy atmosphere. I'm already annoyed."

Owen, now sitting upright, clapped excitedly. "Oooh! Maybe it's like a haunted mystery escape room! I love those!"

"You love everything with free snacks," Leshawna said.

"I don't see snacks," Bridgette added, frowning.

"Maybe the snacks are in the next room?" Owen asked hopefully.

"We gotta survive this room first," said Trent, stepping toward the stone slab.

As the Underdogs began exploring, they didn't yet realize how difficult—and weirdly personal—this escape game was about to get.

But with their history, their egos, and their feelings all boiling beneath the surface, solving puzzles might be the least of their challenges.

The Underdogs stared at the walls around them, flickering yellow lights casting eerie shadows across cracked stone. The air was cool and musty, like the inside of a forgotten basement, and a quiet dripping echoed from somewhere overhead. It was quiet—too quiet—and even Owen didn't dare speak right away.

They were in a narrow room, walls lined with strange symbols and crude paintings. In the center was a rusted metal door with no handle. Instead, embedded above it was a panel with five buttons, each marked with a different animal: a snake, an eagle, a goat, a beetle, and a fox.

Gwen walked cautiously along the edge of the room, her fingers tracing the cracked walls. "This feels like some kind of riddle," she murmured.

"Or a trap," Duncan muttered, glancing over his shoulder. "I've watched enough movies to know this is the part where the ceiling collapses."

Heather was crouched near the floor, examining what looked like stone carvings—doodles of the same five animals, but in different scenes: the snake wrapped around the eagle, the goat on top of a mountain, the beetle buried beneath dirt, the fox peeking from a bush.

"I think these are clues," she said. "They're telling us which animal comes first."

Noah knelt beside her, eyes scanning the carvings. "Could be a logic puzzle. We have to figure out which animal goes in what order and press the buttons in that sequence."

"Yay. More puzzles," Courtney groaned, arms crossed.

Dakota flipped her hair and leaned close to the door. "Well, it's not gonna open itself."

Bridgette wandered to the far corner, where a dusty painting leaned against the wall. She wiped it off with her sleeve to reveal a crumbling mural—each of the animals depicted in a different position. The fox standing beneath a tree. The eagle high in the sky. The beetle crushed under a boot.

"Guys, over here," she called. "This might help."

They all gathered around, trying to decipher what the positioning meant. Trent scratched his head. "So the eagle's definitely above the others. That's gotta mean it comes first… or maybe it rules over the rest?"

Jasmine squinted. "Look at the beetle. It's under the boot in both drawings. That's gotta mean it's last."

Owen tilted his head. "Or maybe it's sad. Because it's squashed."

"Focus," Leshawna said, already tired. "We don't have time to feel bad for cartoon bugs."

Anne Maria examined the buttons on the wall, acrylic nails tapping against the eagle symbol. "If we mess up, do you think it shocks us or somethin'? This place screams 'electrocution.'"

Zoey, meanwhile, had been inspecting the ceiling. "There's wiring above us… I think it's connected to the door. It might open automatically if we get the right order."

After more discussion, they began to narrow it down. They agreed the eagle came first, and the beetle last. The fox seemed to be hiding, so maybe second-to-last. That left the snake and goat, and after some back and forth between Heather, Noah, and Gwen, they finally settled on:

Eagle Snake Goat Fox Beetle

Trent stepped up, hands hovering over the buttons. "Here goes nothing," he said.

He pressed the eagle.

A faint mechanical click.

Then the snake.

Another click.

The goat. Fox. Beetle.

Whirrrrr …  CHUNK.

The rusted metal door creaked open slowly, revealing a staircase carved into stone leading downward into deeper shadows.

"We got it!" Owen shouted.

"Finally," muttered Courtney.

Heather allowed herself a small smirk as she brushed past Duncan. "Told you I was good at puzzles."

He scoffed but smirked right back. "Yeah, yeah. Don't let it go to your head."

As the team began descending into the next section, Gwen hung back for a moment, glancing once more at the mural before following the rest down.

Confessional: Noah

The Underdogs

"I feel like I'm living in a horror game, but instead of helpful NPCs, I'm stuck with a bunch of emotional trainwrecks and one guy who keeps trying to eat things off the floor. We solved the first puzzle, which is a miracle considering how often everyone talks over each other. But I will say this—Heather and Duncan need to get a room. Preferably one far, far away from the rest of us."

The Dominators pressed forward into the second chamber, the heavy stone door slamming shut behind them with a dramatic thud that echoed through the corridor. The room ahead was dimly lit by ancient sconces on the wall, flickering just enough to make every shadow look alive. The air had grown warmer, heavier, as if the underground labyrinth was exhaling steam with each breath they took.

"Okay," Scott muttered, surveying the room. "This already feels like a trap."

He wasn't wrong. The floor was a massive grid, twenty feet long and wide, made up of stone tiles etched with random letters. On the far end of the room was another heavy door—this one with a keypad—and above it, a message carved into the stone:

"Only the true name shall grant you passage."

"True name?" Scarlett repeated, stepping forward to get a better look. "Like… someone's real name?"

"That's creepy," Sammy muttered.

Alejandro rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "More likely, it's a word puzzle. Something we're supposed to spell out."

The team cautiously stepped onto the letter tiles. The moment Dawn's foot hit an "R" tile, it sunk slightly—and a faint grinding sound came from the ceiling.

"Uh, guys?" she said carefully. "I don't think stepping on the wrong letters is gonna go well."

Everyone looked up—and saw a small hatch in the ceiling slowly begin to open. Sand trickled down in a thin stream.

"Oh great," Brick said, already shifting into survival mode. "It's a time-based challenge. We have to figure out the right word before this whole place turns into a giant hourglass!"

Ella gasped. "We're going to be buried alive?!"

"Let's not panic just yet," Alejandro said calmly. "Let's look around first."

The group split up, searching for any other clues. Lindsay tiptoed around the edge of the room before spotting a rusted plaque beneath a layer of dust on the wall. She wiped it clean.

"There's a riddle here!" she said brightly. "'I am born from fire, but I am not flame. I am harder than steel, yet break under pressure. Without me, time would be lost. What am I?'"

Mike—now back to himself—furrowed his brow. "Born from fire… harder than steel…"

"A clock?" Geoff guessed.

"No, wait," Dawn interrupted. "That last part—'time would be lost'—that's key. It's not a clock. It's something inside a clock."

"A gear?" Sammy suggested.

"No," said Brick. "Gears don't break under pressure. They bend."

Alejandro's eyes lit up. "It's glass. The answer is glass. Born from fire, harder than steel in some ways, and clocks—especially old ones—used glass to tell time."

"Only one way to find out," Sky said, already hopping onto the "G" tile.

She didn't sink. The rest of the team lit up.

"G-L-A-S-S!" they called out as they leapt from tile to tile, spelling it together. Each correct step lit up faintly with golden light.

As Geoff pressed the final "S," the heavy door creaked open. The falling sand stopped.

They all took a collective breath.

"That was too close," Scott said, brushing dust off his shoulders.

Lindsay smiled proudly. "See? I do help sometimes!"

"No one said you didn't," Dawn replied with a soft smile. "Your aura was quite radiant back there."

"Right," Sammy grumbled under her breath. "Her aura."

They filed into the next hallway, walking side by side, sweat beginning to form despite the underground chill. This wasn't just a test of strength or teamwork anymore—it was a battle of minds.

Confessional: Sky

The Dominators

"Okay, I've been in a lot of competitions. I've done obstacle courses, triathlons, even a mud run in the freezing rain. But this? This is like if a haunted mansion and a Sudoku puzzle had a baby. And it's only room two. I don't know how long we'll last, but I'll be damned if I'm going to let a sand trap take me out."

The Dominators entered the third section of the underground escape room—and instantly, the mood shifted.

Gone were the torches. Gone was the soft glow of clues and atmospheric puzzles. This room was darker, colder, like it hadn't been touched in centuries. Faint overhead lighting flickered erratically, casting harsh shadows across towering shelves, messy piles of debris, and walls plastered with chalkboard scribbles in languages none of them recognized. The air smelled of dust and rusted metal.

The door behind them slammed shut, locking with a deafening clang.

"Well," Geoff said, voice echoing faintly, "this doesn't feel promising."

At the center of the room was a massive metal box, about the size of a hot tub, bolted to the floor with thick cables running into the ceiling. It had a large digital screen on its side, which blinked awake as they approached. A message scrolled across:

"You have 20 minutes to deactivate the core. Failure to do so will result in loss of progress."

"What core?!" Lindsay shrieked.

"I don't even know what that means!" Sky said, spinning around. "There's no instructions! No hints!"

A loud, echoing beep rang through the room as the countdown began:

19:59… 19:58…

"Okay, we need to stay calm," Brick ordered. "We've dealt with worse—remember the haunted hotel from Episode 3."

"This isn't a haunted hotel! This is a science experiment gone evil!" Scarlett snapped.

Alejandro had already knelt beside the box, inspecting it with sharp eyes. "It's locked with a four-step security system. One keypad, one colored wire puzzle, a symbol rotation dial… and what looks like a biometric scanner?"

"We don't even know what any of this does!" Scott shouted, pacing frantically. "What if cutting the wrong wire fries us all?!"

"This is so not relaxing," Ella murmured, clutching her hands together nervously. "I was just feeding crackers to a parrot like, two hours ago…"

"This is clearly meant to simulate a meltdown scenario," Mike said. "But it's based on faulty logic. The countdown is psychological pressure. The trap is likely non-lethal… but humiliating."

"So… we won't die?" Lindsay asked.

"Highly unlikely," he replied. "But we will lose time, and probably get sprayed with something terrible."

"Gee, thanks 'Cameron Pt. 2'." Sammy said.

Geoff frowned. "We've got twenty minutes. We've gotta try something."

The group split into smaller units. Brick and Sky tackled the wire puzzle—trying to decipher the color patterns, which changed every few seconds. Sammy, Lindsay, and Dawn stared at the rotation dial, covered in ancient astrological symbols. Mike stayed in his Cameron persona, rapidly studying the keypad code history. Alejandro and Scott fought over who should try the biometric scanner.

"This thing probably only works if you're pure of heart or something," Alejandro quipped.

"Oh cool," Scott shot back. "So we're all screwed."

Ella leaned near the core, watching the wires pulse. "Everything here… it's chaotic. Like it was meant to overwhelm us. Like it's feeding off our panic."

Sammy clenched her fists. "Well it's working."

"None of these symbols make sense!" Dawn groaned. "It's like Egyptian and Norse smashed into one!"

"Hey!" Lindsay exclaimed suddenly. "This one looks like a bunny!"

"Lindsay, everything looks like a bunny to you," Sammy gritted through her teeth.

"No, seriously!" Lindsay pointed. "That one was on the door we came through. And so was that star-shaped one. Maybe it's a sequence?"

Sky's head snapped toward her. "Wait, wait—say that again."

They crowded around, Lindsay pointing at four specific symbols.

"She's right," Dawn said, her tone almost reverent. "That's not random. That's a code."

Brick spun the dial quickly, inputting the symbols Lindsay mentioned. There was a beep—and one of the lights on the core box turned green.

"Yes!" Geoff cheered. "That's one part down!"

Alejandro took a deep breath. "Alright. Now we just need to survive the other three."

The Underdogs weren't failing… but they definitely weren't thriving either.

Their second room was dimly lit by a strange blue hue, almost like they'd stepped into some haunted science lab from a bad movie. The air was stuffy and stale, like it hadn't been touched by a single breeze in decades. A low humming sound came from the walls, making Owen flinch every time it spiked.

At the center of the room was a massive touchscreen console built into a stone slab, surrounded by glass tubes filled with murky water and floating rubber skeletons that looked way too real. Along the walls were framed photos of famous inventors, some with their faces scratched out. There were also buttons—dozens of them—none of them labeled.

"Okay, so what exactly are we supposed to do here?" Gwen asked, arms crossed as she surveyed the confusing mess.

"There's got to be some sort of pattern," Trent muttered, eyes narrowed at the touchscreen. "But every time I press something, it just buzzes at me."

"Maybe it's one of those matching things," Zoey offered. "Like, pair the photos with the buttons that relate to them?"

"That's an insane amount of possibilities," Noah said, deadpan. "It's like playing sudoku while blindfolded in a meat locker."

"I dunno, I kinda like the creepy vibe," Anne Maria said, adjusting her headband while chewing gum obnoxiously. "It's like if 'CSI' had a baby with 'Ghost Hunters.'"

Jasmine crouched near the floor, brushing her fingers over faint scratch marks on the ground. "These scratches… they lead to that cabinet over there."

She pushed open the cabinet with some effort, revealing a hidden compartment with torn notebook pages inside.

Owen snatched one up. "These look like notes… someone's journal maybe. 'Failed attempt #47. Buttons incorrect. Subject shocked.' Oh my god—are we the subjects?!"

"Why would they leave notes about it?" Duncan asked, casually kicking one of the tubes. It sloshed ominously.

"Because it's Chris," Heather answered from across the room. She wasn't even surprised anymore. "The man's idea of entertainment is psychological warfare."

"Guys," Dakota called out from near the screen. "There's a faint fingerprint on this part of the console. See? Right here." She held up a tiny UV flashlight she'd somehow snuck into the challenge. "What if we press only the ones with prints?"

Leshawna gave her a side-eye. "When'd you become Nancy Drew?"

"I am an influencer," Dakota replied matter-of-factly. "You learn a thing or two about investigative lighting."

"Worth a shot," Gwen said. "Let's just press the ones with smudges."

They moved quickly but cautiously, Dakota guiding them to the right symbols while Trent and Zoey pressed them in the order they appeared on the torn journal pages.

BZZT!

The screen flickered red.

"WRONG ONE!" Owen cried, diving under a table as smoke hissed out of the wall vents.

"Guys, calm down!" Jasmine barked, waving away the vapor. "We're not dead yet."

"YET," Noah added grimly.

"Maybe we need a specific combination of buttons with prints and order from the journals?" Bridgette said. "Like fingerprints alone aren't enough?"

"That actually makes sense," Courtney admitted reluctantly.

For the next ten minutes, the team worked together more tightly than ever—Heather and Duncan watching quietly from the back while the rest of the group debated possible sequences. Gwen and Trent took over pattern recognition, while Dakota carefully scanned the screen with her flashlight and Bridgette placed the journal pages in an order that made logical sense. Even Anne Maria pitched in, offering surprisingly smart observations about button wear and tear.

Then, finally—ding!

The console lit up bright green. A mechanical voice droned, "Sequence accepted. Proceed to next chamber."

The door creaked open with a hiss.

"YES!" Leshawna whooped, pumping her fist. "That's what I'm talkin' about!"

"Nice one, team," Jasmine said, allowing a proud smirk.

"Let's keep this energy going," Zoey added with a fist bump to Trent.

As the group filed through the newly opened passage, Owen hesitated, staring at the murky skeleton tubes.

"Hey uh… you guys sure they weren't real people once?"

"They better not be," Duncan muttered. "Because if one of them starts moving, I'm feeding it Noah."

Heather laughed—genuinely—and gave him a nudge as they walked.

"Real funny." Noah says with his usual sarcastic expression.

The Underdogs had barely survived that room… but they had survived. And that, for now, was enough.

As the Underdogs stepped cautiously into the next chamber, the heavy door slammed shut behind them with a deafening clang.

Instantly—nothing.

No light. No flickers. No subtle glow from cracks in the walls. Just… pitch-black. The kind of darkness that swallowed everything whole, where even holding your hand an inch from your face proved useless. It was like being buried underground, blindfolded, and dropped into a furnace.

"Okay, nope, I hate this," Owen's voice rang out immediately, trembling.

"It smells like… wet socks and beef jerky," Noah muttered, clearly disgusted.

"It's hot, too," Gwen added, fanning herself despite the futility. "Like sauna-meets-basement hot."

Leshawna coughed from somewhere to the right. "I don't know what's touchin' my leg, but if it moves again, it's gettin' kicked."

"I think we're all just touching each other," Zoey said nervously. "It's a small room."

"It feels small," Courtney said, her voice a little too high-pitched. "Like there's no air in here."

"Everyone just… just don't panic," Jasmine said, clearly trying to maintain order even while her own unease was obvious.

Suddenly, with a sharp mechanical whirr, something began lowering from the ceiling.

A massive flat-screen TV, outlined only by the faintest red glow from its border, came screeching down like an ominous elevator. Sparks briefly lit up the screen edges—and then—

BWAAAAHH!

The screen turned on in a burst of sound and light, startling the group with an unnecessarily dramatic guitar riff as Chris's grinning face popped on screen.

"Oh good! You made it to the blackout zone!" he said cheerily. "And yes… the darkness is totally intentional."

Duncan groaned. "Of course it is."

"Welcome," Chris continued, clearly enjoying himself, "to what I call: Escape the Pitch-Black Pit of Mystery and Misery. Here's how it works. You're currently in a maze-like chamber made up of three short corridors. At the end of one of those corridors is a switch that'll open the exit door."

"Only one?" Bridgette asked. "What's in the others?"

Chris smiled. "Traps. Maybe fire. Maybe rats. Maybe fire and rats. Who knows?"

"Oh good," muttered Anne Maria. "I was starting to miss fearing for my life."

"But here's the twist," Chris went on, "you'll have to work together. Because the whole maze is in complete darkness. I'm talkin' no light, no torches, no glow sticks—nada. If you want out, you'll have to feel your way through, listen for clues, and trust each other."

"This is like a horror movie," Zoey whispered.

"I hate horror movies!" Owen yelped.

Chris's voice dropped dramatically as the screen dimmed. "Oh… and I wouldn't take too long. There's… stuff in there with you. Good luck!"

The screen blinked to black again, and the TV shot back up into the ceiling, disappearing as suddenly as it had arrived.

A heavy silence followed. No one said anything for a long beat.

Then—

"Alright," Jasmine finally said, steady as ever. "Here's what we're gonna do. We split into three groups of four or five and fan out. Keep your hands on the wall. Move slow. Yell if something happens."

"Do NOT let go of the wall," Courtney added. "If you do, we might lose someone."

Noah muttered, "Can't lose what's already dead inside."

The team slowly broke into groups: Jasmine led one with Zoey, Gwen, and Trent. Leshawna took another with Noah, Courtney, and Owen. Heather, Duncan, and Bridgette made the third group, with Anne Maria and Dakota reluctantly tagging along.

"Watch your step," Bridgette whispered. "The floor's kinda sticky…"

"Ugh, why would you say that out loud?" Dakota grimaced.

"Something just brushed past me," Anne Maria hissed.

"That was me!" Duncan shot back.

As the teams inched forward, the darkness thickened around them like fog. Only their voices guided them now—small, whispered check-ins every few seconds, like a lifeline strung between invisible hands.

Something clanked in the distance. A whirring sound started—and then stopped. Owen screamed.

"I STEPPED ON SOMETHING WARM!"

Back in Heather and Duncan's group, Duncan kept close to her shoulder, whispering, "This is the worst date I've ever not asked you on."

Heather snorted. "Give it a minute. You'll end up falling into a pit of snakes or something. Then I'll laugh."

Their banter faded into the dark as each team crept forward, inch by inch, breath held.

Somewhere, something growled.

Something else hissed.

And deep within the pitch-black maze… someone's hand brushed against a switch.

Confessional: Gwen

The Underdogs

"I don't do well in darkness. Not because I'm scared of it or whatever, but because when you're stuck with a dozen other people who can't shut up and keep stepping on your feet, it stops being spooky and starts being annoying. That said… it was kind of weirdly satisfying when we started figuring it out. Like, we actually worked as a team. Sort of. Ish."

Confessional: Owen

The Underdogs

"I stepped on what I hope was a sandwich, got elbowed in the nose by Duncan, and I'm pretty sure I hugged Jasmine's leg for five minutes thinking it was a pillar. But hey! We didn't die, and we're still moving. That's a win in my book!"

The Dominators pressed forward, entering their next section with the slow caution of people who were already exhausted—but the moment they stepped inside, they were met with a blast of icy air. The room was massive and dome-shaped, lit only by the faint blue glow of icicles hanging from the ceiling. A thin layer of frost covered the ground, slick and slippery beneath their shoes.

"Why is it suddenly Antarctica in here?" Sky muttered, hugging her arms tightly around herself.

"This can't be safe," Dawn said softly, her breath visible in the air. "The aura in this room is just… frigid. Not just temperature-wise. Something is off."

"I can't feel my face," Geoff whined, slipping and landing on his back with a loud thud. "Or my butt."

Scarlett was already examining the room with narrowed eyes, her breath slow and controlled despite the cold. "This is designed to slow us down. Hypothermia will sap energy, impair coordination, and make clear thinking difficult. It's strategic. Cruel, but strategic."

Alejandro cracked his knuckles, stepping cautiously across the icy floor. "Then we'll out-strategize the strategy. There must be a pattern here."

"I think I see numbers in the ice," Brick said, gesturing to the walls. "They're subtle, but there's a sequence. Could be a combination of some kind."

Sammy nodded, squinting as she stepped closer. "Maybe for a lock? Something on the exit door?"

"No," Scarlett said sharply. "Look again. They're mirrored. This is a reflection puzzle. The numbers only make sense if you're looking at them backwards."

Mike—now in his Chester persona—hobbled across the room. "Back in my day, we didn't need no fancy ice puzzles! We just climbed out of places like MEN!"

"—shut the hell up, Mike," Sammy cut him off with a cold tone.

Dawn knelt near a frozen panel in the wall. "There's something beneath the ice here… like tiles. They might be pressure-sensitive."

"Okay, so we've got hidden numbers, a potential floor puzzle, and zero degrees of warmth," Brick said, rubbing his gloved hands together. "We need a plan."

Alejandro nodded, his voice calm but commanding. "Split up. Not too far—this is slick terrain. Work in pairs and look for anything that repeats. Patterns. Mirrors. Pressure points. And watch your step."

"Scarlett, you're with me," Sky offered quickly, not even looking at anyone else.

Geoff and Lindsay began crawling around on hands and knees—mostly for balance—while Dawn and Ella carefully analyzed the walls.

Despite the harsh conditions and the ever-increasing complexity, The Dominators kept their momentum. They might not all like each other, but their brainpower, weird talents, and stubborn refusal to lose was carrying them further than anyone expected.

And even if they were freezing… they were freezing like champions.

With their breath clouding the air and frost forming on their eyelashes, The Dominators pressed deeper into the frozen chamber. Every step on the glassy floor required careful balance, and more than a few teammates had taken spills. Still, Scarlett and Alejandro led the charge with unwavering focus, solving the mirrored number puzzle and uncovering a frozen pressure panel system along the ground.

Sky and Scarlett moved tile by tile, stepping only on the lit-up numbers in the reverse sequence. When Geoff accidentally stepped on the wrong tile and triggered a mechanical buzz, a flurry of fake snow dropped from the ceiling, temporarily blinding the group.

"Oh come on!" he shouted, flailing blindly.

"We told you not to improvise!" Scarlett barked, wiping snow from her hair with ice-cold fingers.

"It looked like a 9!" Geoff insisted. "A really icy 9!"

"Don't trust your instincts," Brick grumbled, hoisting Geoff back to his feet. "Your instincts are allergic to logic."

Meanwhile, Dawn and Ella had managed to unearth a hidden panel on the wall, revealing a secondary set of clues encoded in Braille—coated in frost, of course.

"I can read Braille," Ella announced, surprising nearly everyone.

"No you can't," Scott muttered.

Ella's fingers grazed over the frosty bumps with impressive precision. "It says… 'Balance between mirror and motion will light your path.'"

"Great," Scott said. "So now we're interpreting poetry."

Alejandro rubbed his chin. "Balance between mirror and motion… It's not just physical. It's metaphorical. Movement in sync with the mirrored numbers—Scarlett, that means we've been doing it backwards and in reverse order. We need to match our steps perfectly but flipped."

Scarlett exhaled slowly. "This is unnecessarily theatrical. I respect it."

With synchronized effort, Scarlett and Sky led the rest through the mirror-tiled path, carefully mirroring each other's steps in opposite directions. When the final step was taken, a subtle click echoed through the room, and the ice door at the far end unlatched.

A collective sigh of relief swept the team as they stepped into the next section—this one thankfully warm. They had no time to celebrate, but the morale boost was real.

Confessional: Sky

The Dominators

"I'll admit, I'm impressed. Not by them, obviously. But by how well I'm doing under pressure. I'm not used to puzzles, but I am used to winning. And we're not stopping now."

Confessional: Scott

The Dominators

"Every time we solve one of these stupid rooms, I'm just waiting for the next one to slap us in the face. It's like one of those video games where the boss battles keep getting harder. Only here, you don't respawn—you just get frostbite or a concussion."

High above, on the very platforms where the two teams had stood earlier, a camera slowly zoomed out to reveal Chris McLean seated in a reclining chair under a beach umbrella. Two massive projection screens floated in front of him—each one showing live footage of the Dominators and the Underdogs fumbling through their separate escape paths.

He sipped from a coconut with a twisty straw and grinned directly at the camera.

"Ahh, nothing like watching people suffer in real time," he says, lounging back. "And you won't wanna miss what comes next. Will the Dominators keep up their hot streak? Or will the Underdogs finally crawl out of their dark hole of despair? Stick around, folks. After the break, we turn up the heat… literally."

After the break..

The screen fades back in from the commercial break, to the massive platform area high above ground, where Chris lounges like he hasn't a care in the world. He's still sipping from the same coconut, now topped with a paper umbrella and a tiny gummy bear on a stick.

The camera pans behind him to show the two massive projectors side-by-side, each playing live footage of the chaos below.

One screen shows the Dominators trekking cautiously through a glowing lava-lit maze made of moving platforms and timed fire geysers.

The other screen shows the Underdogs stuck in a claustrophobic trap-filled vault where a single wrong step sets off blaring alarms and steam bursts.

Chris flashes a grin at the camera, then stands and brushes imaginary lint off his black shirt.

"Well, well, well… after a shockingly intense start, both teams are officially neck and neck," he announces, striding between the two screens like a ringmaster in a two-ring circus. "As we speak, both the Underdogs and the Dominators are clawing their way through Section 5—the final real obstacle before the end."

He spins dramatically and points at the left screen.

"The Dominators are currently trying to navigate a platform maze where the floor moves, fire literally shoots out of the walls, and trust is not just optional—it's required. If one of them panics, they'll all end up medium-well."

Then he gestures at the right screen.

"Meanwhile, the Underdogs are locked in a steam-activated vault full of pressure plates, decoy keys, false exits, and booby-trapped clues. It's like someone gave a high-tech bank vault a caffeine overdose and told it to get creative."

Chris clasps his hands behind his back and takes a breath, clearly relishing the moment.

"This is where things get extremely dicey, folks. Section 5 was built to break contestants. Sure, they've had hard rooms so far—but this? This is where even smart players lose their cool, and the weak links glow in the dark."

He turns to the camera, that wicked glint in his eye.

"So who's got the guts to push through, and who's gonna be left screaming into a wall? Find out… right now."

The Underdogs weren't just struggling—they were unraveling.

Inside the suffocating pressure-plate vault of Section Five, the air was thick and damp, humming with the hiss of concealed steam valves and the distant ticking of some unseen mechanism. The floor was a checkerboard of strange tiles, some with faint scratches, others pristine. On one wall, a massive vault door loomed, sealed tight, with a red countdown slowly blinking down from 20 minutes. Above it, a mocking sign read: "Every step counts. One wrong move… kaboom."

"What is this place?" Gwen muttered, wiping sweat from her brow as she crouched beside a tile and examined it. "It's like someone played Tetris with death traps."

Courtney marched across the room, clipboard somehow still intact from previous challenges, scribbling furiously. "We need a system. We can't just walk randomly. There's a pattern here. Look—every third tile with a scuff mark resets the timer."

"Are you sure about that?" Noah asked, squinting. "Because I'm pretty sure Owen just stepped on three scuffed tiles and nothing happened except that weird fart noise."

"That was me," Owen said apologetically, blushing. "Sorry. I panic-eat beans when I'm nervous."

Trent was kneeling next to Zoey and Dakota by a wall covered in numbered keyholes. "There are thirty-six different holes here," he said, frustration creeping into his voice. "And only a few keys. This is gonna take forever."

"Wait, wait—these keys are different sizes," Dakota said, flipping one over in her hands. "What if only the ones with symbols are real and the rest are dummies?"

Anne Maria scoffed, standing back with her arms crossed. "That's what they want you to think. Watch me, I'm just gonna shove them in and see what happens."

"NO—!" Jasmine shouted, but it was too late.

Anne Maria shoved a jagged key into one of the slots. Instantly, the room let out a mechanical shriek and a burst of hot steam erupted from the ceiling vents, nearly scalding Duncan, who jumped back with a yell.

"ARE YOU TRYNA KILL US!?" Leshawna barked, shielding her face. "GIRL, you don't go jabbing random junk in holes like you're playing pin the tail on the grenade!"

"Ugh, chill," Anne Maria said, brushing off her jacket. "Nobody died."

Heather muttered from her spot near Duncan, arms crossed tightly. "Yet."

"I hate to say this," Bridgette said, pacing nervously, "but the Dominators are probably miles ahead of us by now."

"Let's not assume that," Zoey said, frowning. "We've gotten this far. We just need to stop panicking and focus."

"Easier said than done when the whole floor's a potential death sentence," Duncan muttered, kicking one of the tiles lightly. "This feels like a trap Chris made after binging Saw movies."

Heather looked around, chewing her lip. "Okay, you know what? We're doing this wrong. Everyone's talking over each other. Trent, Gwen, Noah—brain team, you're in charge of the floor tiles. Courtney and Jasmine, you two handle the key panel. Zoey, Dakota, you're on timer watch. The rest of us back off and shut up unless someone asks for help."

Everyone blinked at her sudden command.

"Wow," Courtney said, raising an eyebrow. "Bossy much?"

Heather glared. "Do you want to be vaporized, or do you want to win?"

"I vote win," Owen said immediately.

To their surprise, the team fell into place. The chaos dulled, the puzzle slowly began to feel less impossible, and piece by piece, hint by hint, the lock mechanisms around the vault door started to tick into place.

A subtle metallic click rang out from somewhere deep in the wall.

"Okay… okay, that's a good sign," Noah said, suddenly hopeful.

Another click. Another.

One step closer.

Another click echoed in the chamber—louder this time, sharper. The vault door's center began to glow with a faint red light, and everyone froze.

"Is that good or bad?" Owen whispered, holding his breath.

"Could be a power-up," Noah muttered.

"Or a warning," Gwen replied, deadpan.

Bridgette stepped back from the keyhole wall. "Three locks down, three to go," she said, brushing her sandy blonde hair behind her ear. "We're halfway there."

"Don't jinx it," Jasmine warned, her eyes trained on Courtney and Trent, who were now communicating with nods and hand gestures like defusing a bomb. Every second mattered now.

"This is so unnecessarily dramatic," Anne Maria groaned. "Like, what's the point? Are we training to break into a space bank or something?"

Dakota looked at her with wide eyes. "Do you ever think before you talk?"

Heather, still positioned by Duncan's side, watched the others work with surprising attentiveness. She wasn't normally the type to defer to others, but she was smart enough to know when to step back—and when to strike.

Duncan leaned toward her slightly, keeping his voice low. "Okay… I admit it. You're actually kinda good at taking charge."

Heather gave him a look, the corner of her mouth twitching. "Don't let it go to your head. I'm still better than you."

His smirk widened, and he gave a playful shrug. "Fair enough."

The moment was short-lived. Courtney suddenly snapped her fingers. "Jasmine—look! The scratches on the tiles match the etchings on the keys. It's a sequence!"

Jasmine nodded quickly. "You're right. And the numbers correlate with the blinking light patterns on the vault."

"Whoa, whoa—are we actually… doing this?" Leshawna asked, raising a brow.

Noah cracked a rare grin. "I mean, maybe. It's either that, or we're about to vaporize ourselves in glorious 1080p."

From above, the vault gave a deep, guttural CLUNK. Then… silence.

Everyone held still.

The glowing red center dimmed… then flickered to green. With a heavy groan, the vault door slowly slid open, revealing the entrance to the sixth and final section.

"YES!" Owen cheered, jumping in the air. "YESYESYES!"

"I'll be damned," Anne Maria said. "We actually did something right for once."

"Don't celebrate yet," Gwen muttered. "We don't even know what's in there."

As if to answer her, a gust of cold, damp wind blew from the opening, causing everyone to collectively shiver.

"Welp," Trent said with a weak smile, "guess there's only one way to find out."

"Let's move," Heather said firmly, taking the lead.

One by one, the Underdogs stepped through the vault into the darkness beyond—exhausted, tense, but undeniably united in their goal. Whatever Section Six was, they were going to face it head-on.

And maybe—just maybe—they had a shot.

Back in the projector room above, Chris reclined lazily in a padded office chair, sipping from a tropical drink and watching both teams on split screens.

"Now that's what I like to see," he said with a grin. "Two teams, one brain-melting final section, and a million ways to watch them all crack under pressure."

He turned toward Chef, who stood silently beside him, arms crossed.

"Think they'll make it out?" Chris asked.

Chef didn't respond. He just smirked and adjusted a lever on the control panel marked: "Section 6 Intensity: Low | Medium | Insane."

With a casual flick, it clicked over to Insane.

The Dominators weren't just struggling—they were actively fighting for their lives in a maze that felt like it belonged in a villain's evil lair.

The walls hissed with steam vents and moved like breathing lungs. The platform beneath their feet shifted constantly, clinking and clanking as parts rotated, lifted, or dropped without warning. Red lights pulsed ominously with every second that passed, and the sharp WHOOSH of flames shooting from the walls didn't exactly add comfort.

"This is insane!" Geoff yelled, leaping back just in time to avoid a spurt of fire that nearly scorched his shorts.

"We noticed!" Sky snapped from across the platform, crouching low to maintain balance as her platform tilted 30 degrees to the left. "Who designs this?!"

"Chris, obviously!" shouted Scarlett from the far end, her voice tense. "And honestly, this is the most sadistically intricate challenge I've seen yet. He's outdone himself in cruelty."

"I can't move!" screamed Lindsay, frozen in place while Mike—in Manitoba mode now—held out a hand.

"Linds, girlie, ya gotta trust me!" Manitoba urged, his accent twangy as ever. "It's just a jump, two feet—come on, love, ya can do it!"

Lindsay whimpered but took the leap—and landed with a squeal right into Manitoba's arms.

"I DID IT!" she gasped, then blinked. "Wait… why does this place smell like burnt hair?"

"Because Brick's shoe just caught on fire!" shouted Dawn from across the gap. She used her scarf to beat out the small flames licking at Brick's boot while Brick stood stoically, refusing to scream.

"It's just a little heat. Pain is temporary," he grunted.

"You literally almost combusted," Scott deadpanned. "Take a chill pill, G.I. Joke."

Alejandro, meanwhile, stood at the highest part of the maze, carefully scanning the layout like a general on a battlefield.

"We need to move counterclockwise," he said, calculating. "Every platform has a pattern. Look at the lights beneath—green for stable, red for volatile. If we hop based on rhythm and color, we can avoid the fire and reach the center."

Shawn's eyes narrowed. "You figured that out in ten seconds?"

"I'm not a strategist for nothing," Alejandro said with a charming shrug.

Ella, balancing precariously on a thin platform, sang a note to calm her nerves—but even her voice wavered.

" Fire and lava and death all around, I'd rather be feeding a squirrel on the ground… "

"No more singing," Scott barked.

"Everyone shut up and move left on my mark!" Sky shouted, taking charge. "Now!"

The Dominators leapt in sync just as the floor rotated beneath them. It wasn't graceful—Geoff stumbled, Dawn nearly slipped, and Brick had to grab Scarlett to avoid tumbling into a pit—but they made it to the next platform. A safe zone. For now.

Their breaths were heavy, their eyes wide. No one said anything for a few beats. Even Alejandro looked shaken.

"Are we sure this isn't illegal?" Sammy muttered.

"Only if we don't sign the waiver," Scarlett grimly said, "which we did."

Across the platform, a door slowly began to open—marking the entrance to Section Six.

No cheers. No celebration.

Just stunned silence… and the burning realization that if that was Section 5, they might not survive what came next.

Confessional: Scarlett

The Dominators

"I've always appreciated intellectual challenges… but Chris seems hellbent on turning this show into Saw: Island Edition. At this rate, I'll be solving for x while dodging flamethrowers and the sudden betrayal of teammates."

Confessional: Sky

The Dominators

"If anyone panics, we're toast. We've made it this far because we're skilled—but this challenge? It doesn't care how smart you are. It just wants to break you."

Back above the platforms, Chris leaned back in his throne-like chair with a smirk, sipping from a coconut as both team feeds played on the twin projectors in front of him.

"Ahhh, Section 5," he said, sighing contently. "That sweet moment when hope gets slapped in the face."

He gestured broadly to the screen as Chef stood beside him, arms crossed.

"And would you look at that? Both teams just entered Section 6 at the exact same time. That's drama, baby."

Chef nodded, flipping a lever marked "EXTREME MODE."

"Let the finale of pain… begin."

The moment the Underdogs stepped into Section 6, it hit them like a slap to the face.

A violent mechanical rumble shook the room as the thick, iron-clad door slammed shut behind them with a metallic bang, sealing them in. A deafening alarm blared overhead as the ceiling lights flickered, then burst, plunging the team into chaos-colored emergency lighting.

Then came the howl—a swirling, monstrous gust of wind mixed with frigid, artificial snow that sprayed from hidden vents in all directions. Fans roared from unseen corners, sending fake sleet and icy debris flying through the air at blinding speed. The room trembled beneath their feet—an artificial earthquake shaking the metal floor violently enough to knock several players to their knees.

"Oh my GOD!" Zoey screamed over the roar of wind, shielding her face with her arm as she tried to stay upright.

"This is madness!" Trent shouted, slipping on the slick floor as a fake icicle flew past his head like a missile.

"THIS IS TOTAL DRAMA, BABY!" Owen cheered—until the ground jolted again, causing him to slam into the wall like a pinball. "OW! THIS IS LESS FUN THAN I THOUGHT!"

"EVERYBODY STICK TOGETHER!" Jasmine yelled, commanding the group as she dug her boots into the ground and forced herself upright. "IF WE SPLIT UP IN THIS, WE'RE DONE FOR!"

Heather gritted her teeth, shielding her eyes. Her fingers gripped Duncan's sleeve without thinking.

"I CAN'T SEE ANYTHING!" she shouted.

"JUST STAY CLOSE TO ME!" Duncan barked back. "I GOT YOU!"

Courtney, her hair whipping in her face from the force of the wind, clung to a metal beam for stability. "WE NEED TO FIND THE EXIT OR A CLUE—SOMETHING!"

A massive fake boulder fell from the ceiling—clearly made of foam, but heavy enough to shatter on impact right near Leshawna and Noah.

"WHO IS FUNDING THIS NIGHTMARE?!" Noah yelled as he scrambled to his feet. "WHO NEEDS THIS LEVEL OF INTENSITY FOR A GAME SHOW?!"

"I think I chipped a tooth!" Leshawna yelled, wiping snow from her eyes. "Where even ARE WE?! This room ain't right!"

Bridgette crawled across the ice-slick floor toward a glowing red console in the far corner. "There's gotta be something here! A puzzle! A button! ANYTHING!"

"We're running out of time!" Dakota wailed, her sparkly jacket now plastered to her body by snow and sweat. "I didn't sign up for Arctic Earthquake death!"

"We need light!" Gwen barked. "If we can see the whole room, maybe we can find the trick!"

"I'm on it!" Anne Maria shouted, teeth gritted, digging through snow with her bare hands near the corner of the wall. "There's gotta be a switch or something. C'mon, Total Drama logic—don't fail me now!"

As another jolt of the earthquake sent Trent and Zoey tumbling into a snowbank, Heather looked around desperately.

"This has to be solvable," she muttered to herself. "Chris might be twisted, but he always gives us a way out…"

Then Duncan yelled, "GUYS! OVER HERE!"

He pointed toward a wall of jagged, craggy panels lit by red strobes. On it were three glowing buttons—each labeled with a riddle etched in frost.

"The door won't open until we solve all three!" he yelled.

Gwen ran to his side. "Read them off!"

The wind howled. Snow sprayed. The earthquake rumbled below. They had no choice but to work together or be trapped forever in Chris's arctic hellscape.

Heather, Duncan, Gwen, Courtney, Jasmine, and Noah all shouted riddles aloud while the others scrambled across the room looking for clues, etched inscriptions, or shifting walls.

It was chaos. But it was teamwork.

Broken, messy, dysfunctional teamwork—but the only kind they had.

And somehow, against all odds, it started to work.

With every riddle solved, one of the frosted buttons glowed blue. The final answer made the entire wall rumble, and the floor beneath them gave one last shake before the iron doors creaked open on the far side—revealing a hallway glowing in red.

No words were spoken.

They were frozen. Beaten. Exhausted.

But one step closer to victory.

And they took it—together.

They were knee-deep in fake snow, every breath visible in the freezing air, and every step forward felt like pushing through a hurricane. The walls rattled with every pulse of the earthquake simulator. Chris hadn't just cranked the difficulty—he'd shattered the dial.

"GUYS!" Duncan yelled, gesturing toward the frozen riddle panel on the wall. "THREE BUTTONS, THREE RIDDLES!"

"I can barely read the words through the frost!" Gwen shouted back, wiping her sleeve across one of the glass surfaces.

Courtney squinted through the strobe lighting, reading aloud:

"I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with wind. What am I?"

"An echo!" Zoey called out quickly.

"WAIT—don't just guess!" Noah snapped. "Chris loves trick questions. What if it locks us out?"

"Then don't mess it up!" Leshawna growled, pulling herself up after being knocked flat by a gust of wind.

Bridgette struggled to stay balanced as the fake snow pelted her face like tiny darts. "This is insane! We can't think in this!"

"We have to," Jasmine barked, her voice loud and clear despite the madness. "If we don't stay calm, we lose."

Heather had hunched behind a support beam, her face pale from the cold. "We can't brute-force this. We've gotta be smart."

"An echo makes sense," Trent reasoned, still shielding Zoey from a nearby pipe that burst out a rush of freezing fog. "No mouth, no ears—but it exists with sound."

"Try it!" Gwen yelled.

Duncan punched the first button. It lit up blue. The first riddle dissolved.

"ONE DOWN!" he yelled.

Then a new gust slammed into them, this time laced with sleet and debris. The floor vibrated under their feet—this time violently. The team was knocked in every direction, some falling face-first into snowbanks, others slamming into each other.

Dakota screamed, "IS THIS PLACE CAVING IN?!"

Then the second riddle appeared:

"The more you take, the more you leave behind. What am I?"

Noah stared at it, face frozen. "Oh, I know this. Footsteps. It's definitely footsteps."

"Are we sure?" Anne Maria said, clinging to the wall. "Cause I'm not freezing my acrylics off for a wrong answer."

Noah pointed emphatically. "Look at the room—we've all been stomping around. It's a visual clue."

"Then do it!" Bridgette shouted.

He pressed the second button. A flicker… then a red light.

"NOPE!" came Chris's voice over a hidden speaker, smug as ever. "Two wrong guesses and you lose a teammate!"

Everyone screamed as a trapdoor cracked open near Noah. He shrieked, scrambling back before it could fully drop.

"It was a decoy button!" Gwen yelled.

"It's NOT footsteps?!" Noah gasped.

"NO—look again!" Heather barked, climbing her way toward the riddle. "The more you take, the more you leave behind… Think like Chris. What's meaner?"

Duncan's eyes narrowed. "Time."

Courtney paused. "But you don't leave time behind—"

"No," Heather said, shaking her head. "Not time. Breaths."

"No—it's steps," Jasmine said again, firm. "That riddle's an old one. It's footsteps. Try the middle button."

Courtney slammed the middle button. It buzzed. Then turned blue.

Relief washed over the team. One more.

The third riddle revealed:

"I can fill a room, but take up no space. What am I?"

Silence fell—well, as silent as you could get in a wind-tunnel hellstorm. Everyone looked around. Thinking. Shivering.

Then Trent murmured, "Is it… light?"

Zoey looked at him. "That makes sense…"

"Or air?" Anne Maria asked.

"Could be a smell," Dakota added. "This whole room smells like burning plastic."

"Light," Gwen said slowly. "That's gotta be it. It fits."

But nobody wanted to risk a third wrong answer.

Then, from the back, Jasmine's voice cut through again. "We're outta time. Pick one."

Heather stepped forward without a word and hit the rightmost button.

It turned…

…blue.

And with that, a deep rumble echoed through the chamber. The exit door slammed open, and a narrow hallway pulsing with red light beckoned them forward.

No cheers. No victory cries.

Just heavy breathing. Trembling hands. And one shared thought:

They still weren't done.

But they'd survived the worst.

Or so they hoped.

High above the chaos, the camera zooms back to the surface—where calm spa breezes and sunshine contrast violently with the madness below.

Chris is lounging in a futuristic-looking command chair positioned between the two giant projector screens that display live feeds of both teams. He's sipping a tropical smoothie from a coconut with a bendy straw, legs kicked up as if he's watching a comedy special.

Chef stands nearby, arms crossed and grinning like a madman. His sunglasses reflect the carnage unfolding on screen—The Underdogs slipping, screaming, shivering, and clawing their way through howling winds and snow.

Chris nearly chokes on his smoothie from laughing. "I mean… did you see Owen eat it face-first into that snow pile?! That man's built like a sofa cushion, and he still bounced like a sack of bricks!"

"Man," Chef huffs between wheezes. "And Courtney yellin' like she's about to sue the weather? That's the wildest thing I've seen since Leshawna rerouted the shower pipes and left Heather covered in raw sewage back in Season 1!"

"Peak television," Chris says with a smirk, clinking his coconut cup against Chef's thermos. "And the best part? They're all blaming each other. Delicious."

He flips a switch, and the feed swaps to The Dominators' side.

Chris leans forward, eyes lighting up. "Ooooh, here comes the next part. This room was Chef's idea. I wanted an obstacle course with swinging axes and giant snakes, but no—Chef insisted on this."

Chef grins like a child about to open birthday presents. "They're gonna lose their damn minds."

Chris laughs evilly. "Let's watch them suffer."

Immediately, they know something's wrong.

The air is thick, like they've stepped into a steam room laced with sulfur. It's pitch black for one second—then, boom, flashing red lights slam on. A mechanical hum starts up. The room lurches sideways.

"Whoa!" Scott stumbles backward, crashing into Sammy. "What the heck is happening?!"

The walls shift again. Now the floor is moving—tilting like they're inside some rotating chamber. Ella yelps as she grabs onto a pipe that descends from the ceiling like a vine.

"It's a centrifugal room," Scarlett mutters, eyes wide but excited. "It spins to mess with equilibrium. We'll lose our balance within minutes."

"And… the point of this is what exactly?!" Sky yells as she falls onto her hands and knees.

Then the music starts.

No, not music. Screeching. A distorted remix of circus tunes and carnival laughter echo from every corner of the walls. Suddenly, the lights turn to deep, strobing neon colors. Red, blue, green, red, red, red—

A voice echoes over the PA. It's not Chris. It's Chef, and he sounds delighted.

"You have five minutes to navigate the spinning room and reach the red button Chris mentioned earlier. If you succeed in reaching it before The Underdogs do, congratulations! You win the challenge. However, if you fail, the entire room will be filled with knockout gas. Good luck..."

"EXCUSE ME?!" Brick bellows.

"Did he say knockout gas?!" Lindsay screams, crawling backward toward a metal beam.

"I think I'm gonna barf," Geoff groans, clutching his stomach.

"Same," says Sammy weakly.

Mike, now flipping into Manitoba Smith, squints through the madness. "We need a plan. If we go one at a time, we'll never make it."

Alejandro grips a support bar, every muscle in his jaw tight. "We move as a unit. Grab hold of something stable and inch together. If one falls, we catch them."

"What if I pass out?!" Ella says, visibly panicked.

"You won't," says Brick. "I've trained for worse in military drills."

"No one cares, dude!" Scott shouts as he barely dodges a swinging pipe from the ceiling.

The room tilts again. Hard. Geoff slams into Sky, and they both go down, sliding toward a large mesh grating in the floor. A hissing sound begins.

Dawn's eyes snap open. "The gas is starting!"

"We're almost out of time!" Sky shouts.

"GO!" Mike yells.

They scramble, slipping across the rotating metal floor like contestants in a death version of Wipeout. The walls groan, and the colors keep flashing. It's chaos, it's insanity, and it's Total Drama.

The floor is spinning in the opposite direction now—faster. Much faster. They're practically crawling sideways just to stay upright. The grating on the floor is glowing faintly—orange. Hot. There's heat rising from below.

"WHY IS THE FLOOR HEATING UP?!" Geoff cries out, bouncing off a wall.

"It's psychological warfare!" Scarlett shouts over the alarms. "It's meant to simulate a furnace! But the fear response is real—so don't touch the grates!"

"I ALREADY DID," yells Lindsay, clutching her elbow as she scrambles backward. "My skin feels like overcooked shrimp!"

"Keep moving!" Alejandro demands, gripping Dawn's wrist to keep her from sliding off a rotating beam. "Go for the red lever!"

"There are six red levers!" Brick snarls. "Which one?!"

"Try them all!" Sky yells, kicking her feet forward in a desperate crawl across a tilting walkway. Her palms are blistered, her face streaked with sweat and grime. "If one opens the door, the others might—"

WHAM!

A foam-covered boxing glove drops from the ceiling and smashes Scott square in the chest, launching him backward. He rolls once, twice, groaning. "I've had enough of this clown warehouse from hell!"

"Get up!" Mike says, switching into Svetlana just in time to leap into a handspring that dodges a swinging pipe.

In the back, Ella's singing has turned into ragged humming. She's using it to center herself, but even that's breaking apart as she fights to stay balanced.

"We're almost there!" Alejandro shouts. "Just—DON'T PANIC!"

The Underdogs are in a blizzard. A fake, but brutal one.

Snow blasts from vents in every direction, hurricane-level winds whipping through the cramped room. Half the team is buried waist-deep in fake snowdrifts that somehow feel just like the real thing—wet, heavy, soul-sapping.

Noah clings to a broken pillar like it's the last tree on Earth. "This is like walking through a freezer full of regrets!"

"My eyelids are freezing shut!" Trent cries, brushing ice off his face with a shaky hand.

"EVERYONE, GET TO THE MIDDLE!" Jasmine yells over the gale, her voice cutting through the roar like a battle cry. "THERE'S SOMETHING UNDER THE ICE!"

Dakota, already shivering and blue-lipped, limps toward the center, holding onto Bridgette's arm. "What kind of sick idiot builds this?!"

"Chris McLean," Courtney spits through chattering teeth. "The answer is always Chris McLean."

Gwen falls beside the central platform, fingers clawing at a round, half-buried metal hatch. "Help me dig this out! It's gotta be something important!"

Duncan rushes to her side with Heather close behind, both of them taking turns smashing the snow with what little strength they have left.

"We're running out of time!" Zoey cries, shielding her face as more snow blasts in from above. "If we don't open that hatch, we're gonna get buried alive!"

Anne Maria groans, dragging herself up the slope with one busted acrylic nail. "My edges are freezing off!"

"I CAN'T FEEL MY FEET!" Owen howls from the side, buried up to his chest and flailing like a trapped polar bear.

Leshawna yells, "That's because your feet have been numb since season one! KEEP DIGGING!"

Finally—finally—they hear a click as Heather punches down hard on a frozen lever beneath the hatch. The snow around them rumbles. The winds stop. And then… nothing.

No opening. No warmth. Just silence.

"THAT WASN'T IT?!" Heather shouts.

"Guess what!" Noah screams back. "I hate this show!"

Back to The Dominators.. the chamber is nearly vertical now. They are climbing, not walking.

Sammy clings to a metal pipe, helping Sky up as the platform tilts another ten degrees. "WHERE IS THE EXIT?!"

"I SEE IT!" Dawn calls out, pointing to a flashing green panel far, far above them. "It's on the ceiling!"

"Of course it is," Scott coughs. "Just great."

"We need to activate all levers at once to reverse the spin!" Scarlett calls out, her eyes darting across the twisting walls like she's trying to memorize the room in real time. "One misstep and we're toast!"

"THEN MOVE!" Brick commands, already scrambling across a beam that swings like a pendulum.

They work in shaky unison now—hands reaching, bodies dangling, flames spitting dangerously close to their legs. The teamwork is there, but the stress is eating at them.

Mike switches between personalities with every shock and slip—Manitoba's coolness, Svetlana's agility, Vito's bursts of aggression.

Alejandro anchors himself between two walls like a human ladder so Geoff can reach a lever above. Dawn is crying but pushing forward. Ella is singing again—off-key and panicked—but it's something.

They all lunge for their levers.

Chris stares at the screens, eyes wide, popcorn halfway to his mouth.

"They're… they're actually doing it. They're surviving."

Chef grins. "Barely."

The winds roar again.

The Underdogs, halfway up the jagged slope of Section 6's simulated snowstorm and earthquake hellscape, are barely holding it together. The snow returns twice as hard. The ground shakes under their boots with the tremors of what feels like a collapsing glacier. Nobody can even hear themselves think.

Courtney trips and slams into Heather, who grabs her just in time before she careens into the snow pile. "WATCH IT!" they both yell at the same time before exchanging an exasperated look. Somehow, that makes them push even harder.

Jasmine hoists Owen out of a snowbank with raw strength alone, every muscle in her arms trembling. "Move it! Come on, big guy!"

"I'M TOO YOUNG TO DIE COLD!" Owen whimpers, covered in frost and tears. "Tell Izzy I—actually, never mind, don't tell her anything!"

"We're not gonna die," Gwen huffs, dragging a collapsed Trent by the sleeve. "But if we do, I'm gonna haunt Chris so hard."

"Keep moving!" Duncan bellows. "I see something!"

He stumbles forward, nearly face-planting in the snow—before he sees it.

A faint red glow, pulsing through the blizzard like a beacon of salvation.

It's a button.

The big red button.

Duncan's eyes widen. "Guys—GUYS! It's the button! The finish line!"

Zoey screeches over the roar of the wind, "WHERE?!"

"OVER THERE!" he points furiously, and immediately everyone's pace picks up. Injuries, exhaustion, frostbite—none of it matters anymore. The team surges forward like wild animals starving for freedom.

Heather and Duncan reach it first. Her hair's plastered to her face, soaked and frozen. His shirt is stiff from snow, but they glance at each other and nod. Without a word, they slam their palms down on the button at the same time.

BEEEEEWEEEP!

A blaring siren erupts. Red lights flash in a perfect circle above them. And just like that—the snow stops. The shaking halts. Silence.

Then—KA-CHUNK.

The floor splits beneath them.

"Oh no—oh YES!" Noah yells as the ground beneath their feet turns into a smooth, angled ramp.

The catapult activates.

With a deafening FOOOM, every member of The Underdogs is blasted through a vertical tube of foam padding and warm air, rocketing them back up to the surface like human confetti.

Chris stands beside Chef, arms folded smugly. A metal hatch pops open and BANG! — one by one, the contestants shoot out of the platform like missiles and land in a massive, soft foam pit with dazed groans and victorious whoops.

Owen lands belly-first with a sound like a water balloon. "YESSS! THAT WAS AMAZING!" he roars.

Dakota sits up, eyes wild. "I can feel my toes again!"

Courtney pumps her fists. "Finally! FINALLY something goes right!"

"Underdogs," Chris says through a bullhorn, grinning. "Congratulations. You escaped Total Drama's most vicious challenge yet. Your suffering was priceless, but hey—at least you won."

Chef claps. Once. Slowly. Sarcastically.

"Now get cleaned up," Chris continues. "Gotta break the news to The Dominators real quick."

The Underdogs cheer through chattering teeth and exhausted smiles. Snow still clings to their clothes, bruises coat their limbs, and they're pretty sure Owen's tooth is vibrating—but they won.

Chris swivels dramatically toward the mounted Total Drama camera beside him and leaps onto it like a cartoon villain. The lens beeps red as it activates, sending a signal directly down into the underground maze.

The room is a massive labyrinth of mechanical arms that slam shut at random intervals, with rotating walls, crashing pistons, and a low hiss of steam everywhere. Sparks fly as Mike (now Chester) narrowly avoids losing a shoe to a snapping steel jaw.

"Back in my day, we didn't need all this," Chester mutters while hobbling along. "We just threw people into actual saw traps. That built character."

"WE'RE GONNA DIE IN HERE!" Scott yells, jumping out of the way of a piston arm nearly clipping his shoulder.

Just as Brick hoists Sammy over a set of crawling gears and Shawn uses a grappling rope made of towel shreds, a sudden BEEP BEEP BEEP echoes through the chaos.

Everyone freezes. The walls halt. The gears stop turning. The room goes silent except for the sound of panting.

Then, with a clunk, a monitor descends from the ceiling in a puff of steam.

Chris's grinning face fills the entire screen.

"Hey, Dominators," he says casually, leaning on his hand like he's lounging in a hammock. "You guys look… toasty."

The team collectively groans.

"I'll keep this brief since you're busy. You guys lose! The Underdogs have officially pressed the big red button and have won today's challenge just seconds ago."

The room echoes with a collective "WHAT?!" from nearly everyone.

"They'll be enjoying actual food, warm showers, and beds that don't contain scorpions," Chris continues with a wink, "while one of you will be enjoying the sweet embrace of elimination."

Geoff throws his hands up. "Dude, are you serious?! We were crushing it!"

"Oh, you were," Chris says, voice sickeningly smooth. "Just not fast enough."

Ella bites her lip, visibly distraught. "But… but we worked so hard…"

"You did!" Chris grins. "And all that hard work? It was adorable."

Brick grits his teeth. "Permission to destroy the monitor?"

"Permission denied," Chris chirps. "Now finish crawling through this mechanical blender so we can figure out who's heading to the Dock of Shame. Later, losers!"

Sky throws her arms up, voice rising with disbelief. "Seriously?! The challenge is over! They already won—what's the point of us still crawling through this death trap?! Can't you at least let us out before someone gets roasted alive in here?!" She glares at the monitor, but it's already retreating. "UGH!"

FZZZRRRRK! The monitor retracts into the ceiling in a burst of static and smoke, leaving the Dominators stunned in silence.

Then, the gears rumble back to life.

Sammy groans. "I want to go home."

Shawn sighs. "Same."

Confessional: Brick

The Dominators

He's still covered in soot and grease, visibly fuming.

"I've had it. I've had it. I didn't crawl through a tunnel of rotating death-blades and flaming floor panels just to lose to a team that's basically a discount support group. And the worst part? We could've won. We really could've. But no—every time we needed to keep our heads cool, Sammy started biting off someone's face. First it was Lindsay, then Ella, then me, then Sky… I've seen better leadership in a burning warehouse! Honestly, I'd rather take my chances with a bear than spend another challenge listening to her go off like a broken fire alarm. She's gotta go."

Confessional: Scott

The Dominators

He leans back with a shrug, arms crossed.

"Look, everyone's crying over how Sammy is the problem, but they're missing the bigger threat—Scarlett. Yeah, I said it. Don't get me wrong, she did a bunch of 'big brain' stuff this challenge, but that's the problem. She's too smart. Like, she's got that creepy 'calculating your funeral arrangements while smiling at you' vibe. Plus, half the time I couldn't even understand what she was saying. Algorithms? Pressure patterns? Bro, I'm not playing Sudoku, I'm trying to survive. And if people are gonna ignore that just 'cause she helped? Fine. But when she turns the cave into a bomb lab, don't come crying to me."

Confessional: Sky

The Dominators

She's still fuming, brushing dust off her tank top.

"This challenge sucked, no question—but what made it worse was Mike flipping into another personality every five seconds! We'd just start working together and boom—now he's some Olympic gymnast screaming about 'spinal pressure' while dangling from the ceiling. It's exhausting! I get that he's got… stuff going on, but this was not the time for personal improv theater. We needed stability, not a one-man circus. I don't know, maybe that's mean—but when you lose a challenge by seconds, every second matters. And we lost way too many to whatever Svetlana was trying to accomplish."

Confessional: Gwen

The Underdogs

She's seated with her legs crossed, a rare half-smile tugging at her lips.

"That… was legitimately terrifying. I mean, collapsing floors? Blackouts? Snowstorms underground? It was like a haunted escape room designed by a sadist. But the weird part is, we made it through. Together. Even the ones I thought would bail—Dakota, Anne Maria, Duncan, Heather—they pulled through. No one freaked out, no one ditched. That's not the team we were a few episodes ago. It was brutal, but for the first time? It felt like we actually earned it."

Confessional: Owen

The Underdogs

He's still sweating profusely, but he's beaming with pride.

"DUDE! That was the gnarliest thing I've ever survived! There were literal earthquakes! And snow inside a cave! And at one point I think I saw my life flash before my eyes—like, every chili dog I've ever eaten was there. But you know what? We crushed it. When that red button popped up, it was like seeing a buffet at the end of a tunnel. Boom! Launched back to the surface, and now I'm HUNGRY for real food and HUNGRIER for another win. Underdogs for life, baby!"

Confessional: Leshawna

The Underdogs

She's fanning herself dramatically, but grinning ear to ear.

"Okay, that was insane. I don't know who thought tossing us into a funhouse from hell was a good idea, but guess what? We flipped the script on 'em. We had people who don't even talk to each other coordinating like pros. Gwen and Zoey were crawling under pipes, Heather was shouting out clues like some bossy little general, and Duncan—ugh, even he was useful. And when we hit that red button? It felt like we just beat Chris at his own twisted game. Next time he throws us a death trap, we'll smile and walk right through it."

The Dominators gather at the elimination fire pit, faces still smudged with grime, gear grease, and defeat. The glowing tiki torches cast long shadows behind them, the mood heavier than the lingering stench of scorched rope and sweat.

Chris stands center stage with his signature smirk, a gleaming silver platter of marshmallows perched in his hand like it's made of solid gold.

"Welcome back to the part of the show that nobody likes… unless you're a sadist. Or Chef," Chris says, shooting a glance at Chef, who's casually roasting a marshmallow over a nearby torch.

"You all know the drill: If I call your name, you get a marshmallow. If I don't… well, your journey ends here, and you take the Dock of Shame to your boat ride of shame, where you'll likely cry in shame. Shame, shame, shame. Fun word."

The team collectively groans.

"Tonight," Chris continues, pacing slowly, "two of you ruffled a lot of feathers during the challenge. Which means one of you is about to face the consequences. Let's get started, shall we?"

He grabs the first marshmallow.

"Lindsay."

She squeals and snatches it like it's the last pair of designer boots at a sample sale.

"Scarlett."

She nods coolly and takes her marshmallow with zero emotion.

"Shawn."

"Still here," Shawn mutters in relief, catching the marshmallow in midair.

"Ella."

She clutches it like it's a bouquet of daisies. "Thank you ever so much!"

"Geoff."

"Duuude," Geoff says with a shrug, chomping into it without hesitation.

"Sky."

She crosses her arms and gives Chris a subtle glare but takes the marshmallow anyway.

"Brick."

He salutes with a grunt before pocketing his.

"Scott."

"Glad you all got some sense," Scott mutters as he grabs his marshmallow and plops back onto the log.

"Dawn."

Dawn smiles peacefully and nods toward the moon. "Balance has been temporarily restored."

Chris eyes the remaining two marshmallows. The camera zooms in on Mike, eyes wide and twitching slightly as his inner personalities begin whispering inside his mind.

Next to him, Sammy shifts uncomfortably, her arms folded tight. She glances at everyone around her, wondering who threw her under the bus.

Chris lifts one of the marshmallows.

"Alejandro."

Alejandro opens his hand to accept it gracefully, giving a casual smirk to the two remaining contestants. "Best of luck," he says in that infuriatingly calm voice.

Now, only one marshmallow remains on the platter.

Chris lifts it slowly, turning toward Mike and Sammy. The background music swells like a thunderstorm about to hit.

Chris grins, clearly loving this.

"And the final marshmallow of the night goes to…"

A long pause. Everyone leans forward. A torch crackles in the distance.

"…"

"…"

"…Mike."

Mike's mouth falls open in disbelief. "Wh— I… I thought—" He clutches the marshmallow like it's his last tether to sanity.

Sammy stares, frozen.

Chris clicks his tongue. "Sorry, Sammy. Looks like your fire's out."

Sammy looks shocked and doesn't say anything for several seconds. "I.. I.. are you serious?" she said softly.

Chris responds with his signature smirk. "Very serious. Looks like that redemption without Amy didn't get you very far huh?"

Sammy shakes her head, voice still soft but trembling with a barely contained frustration. "No… no, I mean, are you guys actually serious? I was one of the only sensible ones on this damn team… one of the few who actually tried to keep things together. I just… why me? I don't even understand…" Her quiet tone carries a sharp edge, like a simmering storm about to boil over, and the calmness only makes the tension in the room thicker, as if she's holding back a yell that could shatter the silence.

She takes a slow breath, then her voice cracks, "You all just… don't get it. I was doing what needed to be done."

"You also barked at half your team and nearly got into three fights," Sky mutters.

"And I liked you!" Lindsay adds sadly, as if that somehow makes it worse.

Geoff shifts uncomfortably but tries to speak up, "Sammy, we all know you did your thing, but sometimes it's about the team vibe, you know?"

Sammy's glare sharpens. "Team vibe? You mean your endless partying and clowning around? That's your idea of team spirit?"

Lindsay looks down, guilt flickering across her face. "Maybe we should've tried talking more…"

Chris waves a hand to cut through the tension. "Alright, enough kumbaya. Time to head to the Dock of Shame. Don't trip on the way down, Sammy."

"You know what.." Sammy said, standing up as if she was about to hurt someone. "Whatever."

Sammy glares one last time before turning on her heel and storming toward the exit.

The rest of the Dominators exchange glances—some relieved, some thoughtful, all feeling the weight of the loss as Chris steps forward.

"Okay, Dominators. Shake it off. You're not out yet. Tomorrow's a new day, and believe me, the pressure's only gonna get worse."

Mike exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair. "That was rough."

Scott smirks, "Welcome to Total Drama. No one said it was gonna be easy."

Later on at night, Duncan sat on the rough wooden porch of the spa hotel, the night air cool and quiet around him. His fingers moved slowly, carving random shapes into the dirt with the tip of his knife — a habit he never quite shook. But his mind was far from focused on the patterns. Instead, it kept circling around one person: Heather. The way she'd come outside and sat next to him earlier, her usual sharp edges softened just enough to make his heart skip. No one else had ever seen that side of her. No one but him.

After a moment, the door creaked softly behind them, and Heather stepped out, settling down beside him without a word. She was usually so loud, so biting, but tonight she was calm — even gentle. Duncan glanced at her, surprised. For once, she wasn't teasing or throwing insults; she was just… there.

"Hey," she said quietly.

"Hey," Duncan answered, his voice rougher than he wanted.

They sat in silence for a few moments, listening to the night. Somewhere far off, a cricket chirped steadily. The wind shifted, carrying the faint scent of pine.

"So," Heather finally said, breaking the quiet, "what're you carving into the dirt?"

Duncan shrugged, looking down at the shallow scratches. "Just… stuff. Helps me think."

She watched him for a second. "Family stuff?"

He hesitated but nodded. "Yeah. Family's complicated. You know how it is."

Heather kicked at the dirt with the tip of her boot, then looked back at him. "Mine's a mess too. Always has been."

They shared a quiet laugh, the kind that comes from mutual understanding — two people who've been through their own battles.

"Funny," Duncan said, "how we're always trying to figure out where we belong, who we really are."

Heather's eyes met his, the usual sharpness softened by something else — something almost vulnerable.

"Yeah," she agreed softly. "Maybe that's why… you and me, this weird thing between us — maybe it's not so weird after all."

Duncan's heart thumped hard. He took a breath, then finally said what he'd been wrestling with for days.

"Have you… ever thought about us? Like, more than just teammates or whatever?" His voice dropped, a little shaky but honest.

Heather's mouth parted slightly, and for a moment, there was only silence. Then she let out a small sigh and met his gaze straight on.

"Yeah," she said honestly, "I have. And it scares the hell out of me."

Duncan smiled, the tension in his chest easing for the first time in weeks.

"Me too," he admitted.

Heather leaned a little closer, nudging him with her shoulder.

"Guess we're in the same boat, huh?"

"Looks like it," Duncan said, the warmth in his chest spreading.

They sat side by side on that porch, the world quiet around them, both knowing something had shifted. Their friendship had crossed an invisible line — and neither was ready to turn back.

Heather's eyes sparkled with a rare excitement as she nudged Duncan playfully. "You wanna go play Street Fighter until we crash?"

Duncan's smirk widened, that familiar spark lighting up his eyes. "Hell yeah! I'll kick your butt."

They laughed together, the tension between them melting away for a moment as they stood up and started walking back into the hotel. The porch lights flickered softly behind them, and the camera slowly panned upward, leaving their voices trailing off as they disappeared inside — two unlikely allies, maybe something more, ready to take on the night.

Chapter Text

Ep. 10: "Train-Wrecked"

"Last time on Total Drama: Generational Warfare… we learned that underground escape rooms are not as fun as the brochures make 'em look."

Cut to the contestants plummeting through trapdoors, screaming like they just saw Chef in a towel.

"Both teams got dropped into an abandoned labyrinth designed by Chef Hatchet and yours truly, featuring six stages of total panic, cranked all the way to 'please-make-it-stop.'"

Clips flash by Owen flailing in darkness, Scarlett dodging fire jets, and Duncan getting snow blasted in the face.

"The Dominators had fire, trap doors, and moving platforms of doom. But they also had Scarlett, who may or may not be part supercomputer."

Scarlett smashes a puzzle in seconds while Alejandro flexes unnecessarily and Mike forgets what personality he's in.

"Meanwhile, The Underdogs faced a fake earthquake, a blizzard, and total blackout darkness. The only light they saw was the red victory button — which they SLAMMED faster than Leshawna smacking Heather back in Season 1."

Cut to confetti and The Underdogs being launched back to the surface by catapult.

"The Dominators? They were still mid-gear crawl when I gave them the good news — and by good, I mean devastating. They lost."

Cue groans, Sky yelling at the monitor, and Chris laughing like a man who's just ruined twelve people's week.

"And while Sammy thought being the voice of reason would save her… guess what? It didn't. Boom. Eliminated. So long Ms. I Need My Redemption Arc!"

Sammy's stunned silence plays, then cuts to black-and-white slow-mo of her storming off in disbelief.

"Hm, I wonder how long Amy'd be in the game had I brought her back instead.."

"Anyway, back at the spa hotel, while the rest of the Underdogs celebrated their sweet victory…"

Owen snoring on a literal pile of muffins, Zoey and Gwen wrapped in fluffy towels.

"Duncan and Heather.. might be crossing that bridge soon. Finally, took them about..oh, I don't know- 7 seasons?"

Duncan: "Have you… ever thought about us? Like, more than just teammates or whatever?"

Heather: "Yeah, I have. And it scares the hell out of me."

"So what's next? Love triangles? Another betrayal? A challenge involving actual explosions? Who knows!"

"24 contestants left. Two million dollars on the line. And a whole lotta ways for me to make their lives worse, and you guys basically get front row seats! Find out who gets the boot next, right here, in today's episode of Total…Drama… Generational Warfare!"

(Cue the TDGW Intro)

The Dominators sat slumped at the long metal table in the mess hall, stirring their bowls of slop with mild indifference. Well, most of them. Brick was the only one trying to keep some form of posture, sitting up straight and chewing with the grim resolve of a soldier eating rations in enemy territory.

The vibe was noticeably calmer now. With Sammy gone, there was less tension in the air. Geoff even cracked a joke that got a chuckle out of Sky, and Scarlett, for once, didn't immediately sigh and correct someone's grammar. It was strange—but kind of refreshing.

"Y'know," Geoff said, flopping his spoon down. "I hate to say it, but the mood in here doesn't suck as much as it did yesterday."

"I second that," Scott added with a shrug, mouth half full. "Guess having one less doomsday prophet at the table helps morale."

Brick nodded. "She was competent, but her attitude did more damage to our teamwork than anything else."

"Honestly," Scarlett said, brushing a crumb off her shirt, "now that we don't have to hear about how doomed we are every two minutes, I can actually think clearly."

Alejandro gave a slow nod, pushing his bowl of unappetizing slop aside with a sigh. "Yeah, I'm with you. I noticed how she came into the game firing on all cylinders, ready to take on anything. But as time went on, she kind of… morphed into Amy Pt. 2."

Ella, her voice gentle and quiet, tapped her spoon softly against the side of her bowl. "I still think she gave it her all. I don't know if she really deserved to be sent home."

Alejandro raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "Ella, you two were practically on the verge of a full-blown argument just yesterday before the challenge."

Sky, deadpan as ever, jumped in. "And don't forget, she actually screamed at the monitor."

Shawn raised one finger, trying to defend the moment. "Well, that monitor was straight-up tormenting us. I mean, you can kind of understand where she was coming from."

"But does that really make it okay that she started yelling at Ella for no reason?" Alejandro pressed, curiosity edging his tone.

Shawn exhaled, conceding with a shrug. "Okay, fair enough. That was unnecessary."

Oblivious to the shift toward a more serious tone, Lindsay was busy smearing her slop onto a napkin like it was some kind of fancy butter. "I miss ketchup."

Brick pushed his bowl aside with more determination. "Focus, team. If we want to pull off a win in the next challenge, we have to keep this positive energy flowing. Clear heads, united front."

Scarlett leaned in with a sly grin. "And no more random towel rope stunts. I'm looking at you, Shawn."

Shawn grinned back, unfazed. "No promises."

The slop on the table sat neglected, congealing into an even less appetizing mess. But none of The Dominators cared. The room had softened into something close to casual conversation—well, as casual as it could get when half the team looked like they hadn't slept properly in days.

Geoff leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head, his voice laced with exhaustion. "Real talk—when's the last time any of you even showered? 'Cause I swear this side of the island smells like burnt tires mixed with defeat."

Scott nodded earnestly. "I found a puddle near the outhouse. No frogs this time, so… that's luxury in my book."

Sky buried her face in her hands. "Why are we like this?"

Ella let out a dreamy sigh. "I miss the spa hotel… scented candles, bird-shaped soaps, harp music…"

Lindsay gasped suddenly. "I knew I wasn't hallucinating that harp music!"

Brick stood up and began pacing. "Alright, now that we've got one toxic member out of the way—no offense to Sammy, or actually, yeah, offense intended—we've got to rebuild. That last challenge showed us how out of sync we've become. We can't afford another stumble."

Scarlett adjusted her glasses, voice calm but firm. "Technically, we didn't slip. We hit a performance plateau caused by external interference, inconsistent environmental factors, and emotional volatility from some members."

Everyone turned toward Mike, who was halfway zoning out as Chester.

Chester grunted. "Don't look at me. Try crawling through a collapsing room with a back like mine."

Scott shook his head. "I don't even know what personality that was."

Mike blinked, coming back to himself. "Uh… Chester's cranky 'cause we haven't had fiber in like, three days."

Geoff groaned, rubbing his stomach. "Dude seriously. I'd commit a minor crime just for a granola bar right now."

Scarlett gave him a withering look. "You already did commit a crime. Peanut butter in my boots is not a joke."

"I thought it'd be funny!" Geoff protested.

"Well, it wasn't," Scarlett snapped, then sighed and muttered, "…okay, maybe a little."

Dawn, who had mostly been quiet until now, looked around thoughtfully. "I think our energy's shifting. Not perfect, but lighter… like a window's been cracked open."

Scott grinned. "Sammy window," he joked, causing a few snorts of laughter.

Sky crossed her arms, scanning the room. "But seriously, if we want to pull this off, we need to stop relying on whoever's the loudest or most unhinged at the moment. Scott, I'm looking at you."

Scott feigned offense. "Me? I've been chill!"

Scarlett smirked. "You built a food-scrap dummy of Alejandro and challenged it to a duel."

"…Yeah, but I won," Scott insisted.

"No, you didn't! Your dummy broke," Alejandro said, a mock frown on his face.

"Okay, but what was it even a dummy of?" Scott pressed.

"Me," Alejandro said quietly.

Scott grinned. "Exactly. So what does that make you?"

Brick clapped once to cut through the banter. "Listen, we're not a bad team. We just need a real plan. If we go into the next challenge with some communication and coordination, I truly believe we can win this."

"And no more towel ropes," Shawn added quickly.

"Or peanut butter pranks," Scarlett said, glaring at Geoff.

"Or yelling at the host monitor," Sky added.

"Or slipping into old-man mode mid-crisis," Scott joked, nodding at Mike.

Lindsay opened her mouth to say something, but Geoff cut in quickly. "No, you're perfect."

She beamed with a genuine smile.

For a brief, rare moment, the room was filled with genuine laughter. No arguments. No sabotage. Just a team.

Even Brick looked surprised by the sudden unity. "Maybe… just maybe, we're not doomed."

Confessional: Geoff

The Dominators

"Dude, the vibes? So much better. Like, seriously, I didn't realize how much of a buzzkill Sammy was until she wasn't around anymore. I mean, no offense or whatever, but it was like every time we tried to have a good moment, she'd be in the corner glaring at us like we just kicked a puppy or stole her diary. Now? People are actually joking, laughing, throwing peanut butter in boots… okay, yeah, maybe that one crossed the line—sorry, Scarlett—but c'mon! We're having fun. This team was starting to feel like a group project with all the fun parts stripped out, but now it's more like… a party with death traps, mild starvation, and the constant threat of being launched into the sky. You know, classic Total Drama!"

He chuckles and shrugs. "Honestly? If we keep this up, we might actually start winning again. Or at least not dying in the process."

Confessional: Brick

The Dominators

Brick sits rigidly, arms folded tightly in front of him, but there's a rare softness in his usually intense expression.

"I'll admit it—morale is… surprisingly stable. As a team, we've been through a lot: fire, puzzles, collapsing floors, fake snowstorms, near-fatal gear systems… the usual. But what we haven't had until now is cohesion. That's changed. With Sammy gone, there's been a noticeable shift. No more constant complaints, no more tension in the air like we're walking on eggshells. Everyone's more focused, more willing to collaborate. I've even seen Scarlett smile, which I previously assumed was a myth."

He sighs and looks thoughtful for a moment.

"I'm not saying Sammy didn't try. I think she did. But sometimes, trying and thriving are two different things. She just didn't mesh with the mission. Now that she's out, it's like we've finally found our rhythm. I know Chris is probably cooking up something deranged for the next challenge, but for the first time in a long time, I think we're ready to face it. Together."

Confessional: Lindsay

The Dominators

Lindsay sits with her knees pulled up to her chest, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, a small pout on her lips.

"I kinda miss Sammy," she says softly. "I mean, I know she was kinda grumpy sometimes, but, like… she wasn't mean. Not like Heather-level mean. She was just… stressed or something. I think maybe if she had some smoothies and hugs, she would've been way happier."

She shrugs.

"I guess not everyone fits in the same way, but I still wish she got to stay a little longer. I was gonna teach her how to do a waterfall braid and everything."

The camera cuts to the spa hotel dining hall, a far cry from the grimy mess hall the Dominators are stuck with. Warm lighting glows off polished floors, and platters of breakfast food line the buffet. The Underdogs sit around the large curved booth in the corner, plates loaded with pancakes, waffles, and fresh fruit—some of it already being launched across the table by Owen, who's mid-muffin toss.

"Dude! That was a cinnamon bomb and you wasted it!" Noah says flatly as a muffin splats off his plate.

Owen grins, unbothered. "I regret nothing. It was for science."

"More like for stupidity," Courtney mutters, stabbing a grape with her fork. "Don't encourage him."

"Let Owen have fun," Leshawna chimes in, buttering toast with authority. "We earned this breakfast. That whole fake earthquake? I'm still shaking."

"Literally or emotionally?" Zoey asks.

"Yes," Leshawna replies, taking a big bite.

"I'm just glad no one puked on the catapult ride back up," Gwen adds, flipping her hair from her face. "That would've killed the vibe."

"Oh please," Anne Maria scoffs. "I was more worried about my lashes flying off. You know how hard it is to find waterproof glue around here?"

Bridgette giggles. "Honestly, the worst part for me was the musty dark room. I thought I saw a spider the size of a Yorkie."

"You did," Jasmine confirms. "But I wrangled it into a corner. Probably still there."

"Cool, cool, so we're just casually living with mutant spiders now," Trent says, adjusting the strap on his guitar case even though he's not holding the guitar. "Can we get a challenge with, like, sunshine and puppies next?"

Dakota lets out a delicate sigh. "I'm just hoping we don't end up doing something that messes with our hair again. That snowstorm scene? My extensions are still crunchy."

Courtney raises an eyebrow. "You brought extensions to a survival game show?"

"It's called branding," Dakota retorts.

Noah flips a page in the mystery novel he's been pretending to read for three days. "This group… I swear, we've got the makings of a circus."

"But we're the winning circus," Zoey points out, smiling. "That has to count for something."

"Only if we keep this energy going," Jasmine adds. "One win doesn't mean the rest of the season is going to be a cakewalk."

"Speak for yourself," Owen says through a mouthful of waffle. "I'm planning on riding this sugar high to the finale."

Leshawna points at him with her fork. "You better save some of that energy for the next challenge, big guy."

The scene fades in slowly, bathed in a soft pink haze and dreamlike lighting. Dream-Duncan lounges shirtless in a velvet armchair by a fireplace for some reason, his signature smirk dialed up to eleven. Across from him, Dream-Heather appears in an elegant, flowy dress—definitely not something she'd ever wear in real life, but dream logic doesn't care.

"I can't believe I ever hated you," Dream-Heather says, voice syrupy and soft, as she runs her hand down his arm.

Duncan chuckles in slow motion. "Took you long enough to realize I'm irresistible."

She leans in, inches from his face. "Kiss me, you danger-loving delinquent."

Right as their lips are about to meet—WHAM!

Duncan jolts awake in his bunk at the spa hotel, eyes wide, heart racing, and hair messier than usual. He's gasping like he just ran a marathon through a haunted house.

"What the hell is going on?" he mutters to himself, clutching his blanket as if it betrayed him. He rubs his face vigorously, clearly distressed. "I can't take this anymore… it's either I act on these feelings or they gotta go."

The sentence flows straight into a confessional.

Confessional: Duncan

The Underdogs

"I'm dreaming about her now? What is going on?" He leans forward, fingers tangled in his hair. "This is… this is past Gwen and Courtney level, guys, I—" He laughs nervously, trying to downplay it but failing miserably. "I think I'm going crazy. I don't even like her like that! I mean—okay, maybe I do, but like—ugh!" He thumps the side of the confessional booth with his fist. "She's supposed to be cold, manipulative, impossible to like. But now she's—ugh, she's just… Heather. And now I want to kiss her instead of prank her and it's ruining my whole reputation."

He leans back, sighs, and stares at the ceiling. "I'm gonna lose my damn mind- I'd- I'd rather be back in prison than deal with this.."

The dining area of the spa hotel was buzzing with the usual morning chaos—Courtney arguing with Owen over how many waffles a "normal person" should eat, Jasmine helping Bridgette crush some fruit for an improvised smoothie, and Gwen quietly sipping coffee while Noah made biting commentary about everything from the tablecloths to the scrambled eggs. It was, for once, a peaceful kind of chaos.

That is, until the door creaked open and Duncan stumbled in, looking like he'd fought a raccoon in the vents and lost.

"Whoa," Leshawna muttered. "Someone get hit by the dream bus?"

"Dude, you look like death," Trent added with a concerned grin.

Owen waved a fork excitedly. "Morning, zombie bro! Want some bacon? Or… like, twenty strips of it?"

Duncan plopped into a chair like gravity finally won. His eyes were bloodshot, his mohawk slightly deflated. All he let out was a grunt.

"Good morning to you too," Noah quipped without glancing up from his toast.

Despite Duncan's grumbles, a few of the Underdogs chuckled and welcomed him in their usual way. He shot back his typical smirks, sarcasm dialed to autopilot.

But then…

Heather.

She walked in effortlessly, still towel-drying her hair from her morning shower, a tray of granola and tea in hand. She looked… annoyingly radiant. Like, glow-in-the-sunlight, hair-cascading, toothpaste-commercial radiant.

"Hey," she said casually, sliding into the seat next to him like it was the most normal thing in the world. "Sleep well?"

Duncan visibly froze, eyes widening slightly before narrowing. He looked down at his plate like it held the meaning of life.

"Oh y'know, dreamless night. Super peaceful," he mumbled quickly, waving a hand dismissively. "Nothing worth remembering."

Heather quirked a brow. "You sure? You look like you got chased by a pack of angry squirrels."

"Maybe I did," Duncan snapped back, trying to sound edgy but coming off more defensive than usual. "What, you keeping tabs on my sleep now?"

"Whoa, okay," Heather said, holding up a hand. "No need to get snippy."

Duncan stood abruptly, grabbing his untouched plate and mumbling something about needing a pancake. He moved to the far end of the table, sitting between Owen and Dakota, who were both too wrapped up in their food to ask questions.

Gwen leaned over to Heather. "Okay… what was that?"

Heather frowned a little, clearly not used to Duncan avoidingher. "Beats me. Maybe the angry squirrels were real."

At the far end, Duncan stabbed a sausage link so hard it bounced off his plate. Under his breath, he muttered, "Get a grip, man. Just eat. Talk to anyone but her."

And yet, despite himself, he couldn't help sneaking a glance her way every few seconds. Because no matter how hard he tried to push it down… the crush wasn't going anywhere.

Confessional: Heather

The Underdogs

Heather sits cross-legged on the confessional bench, arms folded tightly, though her usual sharp edge is softened today. She's not glaring or sneering like usual. She's… thinking.

"So, Duncan's avoiding me now. Cool," she says flatly, with a tiny shrug. "I mean, it's not like I care. I'm not some clingy weirdo who needs validation from a guy. If he's got an issue, that's his problem."

She pauses, looking off-camera for a moment.

"It's just… weird. Things were actually good between us, you know? Like, scarily good. We weren't even arguing all the time, and I didn't feel like I had to prove anything. We just… clicked."

Another pause. Her posture relaxes slightly, her voice lowers.

"I don't know what I did wrong. If I did do something wrong. Maybe he's just tired or grumpy or being a typical emotionally stunted guy—but…"

She trails off, eyes flickering down, and for the first time, there's no sarcasm or attitude behind them. Just a small, very real crack in the armor.

"I just… really hope he's not mad at me. Because I don't want to lose whatever this is. I never really had it with anyone before."

Heather lets out a shaky sigh and rubs her thumb over a chipped nail.

Courtney tapped her spoon against her bowl. "Alright, people, we've got to start thinking about the next challenge. No more slacking. We've come too far."

Gwen nodded, stirring her coffee thoughtfully. "Yeah, but I say we use what we learned from that last underground maze. Patience and teamwork beat brute force any day."

Owen grinned, shoveling a spoonful of eggs into his mouth. "I just want to eat more food like this, you know? Good grub makes everything better."

Noah smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Eggs and teamwork, huh? Typical. But fine, I'll try to pretend to care."

Bridgette smiled warmly, her eyes on Owen. "I agree with Gwen. We gotta stick together. That's what's gotten us this far."

Zoey leaned in, enthusiasm lighting up her face. "We're so close to winning this thing! I can feel it. If we keep this up, nothing's gonna stop us."

Trent gave a slow nod, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. "Yeah, we've got the right balance—strength, smarts, and heart. We just need to keep trusting each other."

Anne Maria grinned, bouncing a little in her seat. "Plus, I'm ready to show them what I'm made of! No way I'm sitting this one out."

Leshawna folded her arms with a confident smile. "That's right. No quitting, no giving up. We're here to win, and I'm not taking any excuses."

Jasmine's eyes shone with quiet determination. "We're more than a team. We're a family now. And families fight for each other."

Dakota glanced around, her voice softer but steady. "I'm just glad I'm here with you all. We've all changed, and it feels good to be part of something real."

Heather smiled briefly, her gaze flicking to Duncan but not lingering. "Yeah, we've got this. Let's keep pushing forward."

The group shared a look, the unspoken bond sealing their resolve. The game wasn't over, but together, they were ready for whatever came next.

Confessional: Dakota

The Underdogs

"I know people probably didn't expect me to make it this far. I mean, sure, I used to be all about glitz and glam and reality TV fame. But being out here, with these people? It's changed me. I don't need perfect lighting or a camera crew to feel important anymore. I actually care about this team. And I think… I think they care about me too. That's new. I like it."

Confessional: Anne Maria

The Underdogs

"Yo, I ain't gonna lie, I thought I was just here to look good and crack a few jokes. But now? I'm like… actually invested in this mess. I been pulling my weight, and nobody's telling me to shut up or get outta the way, y'know? We're finally gellin'. Even the ones who used to side-eye me are chill now. And if we keep this vibe up? Boom—finale, baby. Big hair and bigger moves. Let's go."

Confessional: Jasmine

The Underdogs

"At first, I wasn't sure how I'd mesh with this group. Loud personalities, lots of egos… and then there's me, used to surviving in the wild with no drama but the weather. But I've learned something—there's more strength in understanding people than overpowering them. These guys? They've taught me that. And I've got their backs. Even Owen's." She smirks slightly. "Especially Owen's. He needs all the help he can get."

The speakers crackle to life, interrupting the breakfast chatter.

"Wakey wakey, drama babies!" Chris's voice booms through every corner of the spa hotel and mess hall with the enthusiasm of a kid in a candy store. "Hope you've digested your slop—or your pancakes, depending on which side of the scoreboard you're on—because it's about to get loco. As in… locomotive. You've got 20 minutes to get your butts down here! And you might wanna bring a change of clothes.."

Groans echo from both teams as the speaker cuts off.

In the spa hotel, a chorus of frustrated sighs and chair-scraping fills the air. Gwen slumps forward, her cheek smacking lightly against the table. "It's too early for metaphorical trains, let alone real ones."

Owen rubs his stomach. "I was gonna go back for thirds…"

Noah stands, dusting off his pajama pants. "I knew pancakes were a trap. They were too fluffy."

Courtney already has her arms crossed. "Twenty minutes is barely enough time to organize our strategy."

"Who says we're organizing?" Duncan mutters, dragging himself toward the hallway, still looking like a zombie.

Heather watches him go with narrowed eyes, her lips parting slightly before she stops herself.

Anne Maria rolls her eyes, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Girl, if this ruins my blowout—"

"Then you'll get another one after we win," Leshawna interrupts, giving her a firm pat on the back. "Now move!"

Bridgette and Zoey are already jogging upstairs to get changed, with Jasmine not far behind. "Let's just hope this train's got an emergency brake," Jasmine mutters.

Meanwhile, in the Dominators' dorm, there's a very different mood. The team scrambles, energized, as if they've just been given a second chance to prove themselves after the previous challenge loss.

"I love trains!" Ella chirps as she twirls toward the hallway, her pigtails bouncing. "They go 'toot toot' and everything!"

"Let's hope it's not the kind that eats contestants alive," Scott says, already pulling on his shirt. "Because I like me intact."

Mike, halfway into his jumpsuit, frowns. "I'm just hoping Manitoba doesn't hijack my body again mid-jump…"

Brick barks out, "Everyone stay focused! This is our redemption arc. We go in, we win, we don't argue!"

Geoff fist-bumps the air. "That's the spirit, bro!"

Scarlett, already fully dressed and brushing dust off her sleeves, adjusts her glasses. "If this is based on any traditional gauntlet formation across train cars, the engine will likely have the braking mechanism—"

"We get it, you're smart," Scott cuts in, walking off.

Sky stretches out her arms with a deep breath. "Let's try not to lose this one by seconds again, okay?"

Alejandro gives a smooth, confident smirk as he buttons his uniform. "Don't worry, mi compañera. Seconds will feel like centuries to the Underdogs once we're finished with them."

"Ten bucks says the train's on fire," Shawn mutters under his breath, tightening a bandana around his head. "Calling it now."

Dawn's eyes close in meditation. "I sense impending mechanical chaos… and possible mild concussions."

Cut to a shot of both teams exiting their respective dorms and spa hotels, decked out in matching challenge uniforms: industrial-orange jumpsuits labeled with their team names and customized patches.

They step onto the launch platform… and sure enough, there it is.

A massive, roaring freight train sits ready on the tracks, steam bursting from its vents like a dragon preparing for war. The cars seem endless, each one a different color, a different size, a different trap. And the worst part? It's already rattling.

The horn BLARES.

"CHOO CHOO, BABY!" Chris yells from the top of the front car, megaphone in one hand and a safety vest in the other. "It's time to get Train Wrecked!"

The camera zooms in on the shocked, wide-eyed contestants as they stare up at Chris, who's balancing way too confidently on the roof of the rattling freight train.

"How does this even work?!" Gwen yells up from the ground, voicing what literally everyone is thinking.

Chris grins like he's been waiting all week for someone to ask that.

"Glad you asked, goth girl!" he shouts back through the megaphone. "This challenge is called Train Wrecked, and you're about to find out why!"

He kicks a metal panel on the roof and a trapdoor opens beneath him. He slides down inside the train like it's a playground, and a second later his face appears on a mounted monitor that folds out from the side of the engine car.

"Here's how it works," Chris continues, his voice now echoing through all the speakers across the train yard. "Both teams will be hopping aboard this vintage, totally not-to-code, completely booby-trapped freight train. Once you're in, there's no getting off 'til it's over. Literally. The doors will lock behind you. Chef welded them shut. You're welcome!"

Cut to Chef standing with a blowtorch, waving proudly like a maniac.

Chris keeps going.

"Each train car is a brand new, increasingly dangerous obstacle. We're talkin' electrified floors, crumbling platforms, wind tunnels, mystery gas leaks—"

"GAS LEAKS?!" Owen blurts.

"Mystery ones," Chris clarifies with a wink. "Don't worry, we gave you stylish safety suits. You'll look adorable if you pass out."

He clears his throat.

"Now, here's the twist: both teams start at opposite ends of the train. You'll be working your way toward each other, car by car. First team to make it to the middle car, press the golden lever, and sound the train horn wins the challenge!"

The camera zooms in on a shimmering, golden lever inside a locked glass case in the center of the train, surrounded by lights and dramatic smoke for no reason whatsoever.

"Prize?" Chris adds with a grin. "The winning team gets a catered dinner on a scenic train ride back to the spa hotel. The losers? Back to slop. And of course… one of you gets sent packing."

Groans ripple across both teams.

"There will be setbacks," Chris warns. "There will be injuries. And there will be vomiting. But that's Total Drama, baby! Now get on board before this thing takes off without you!"

The train lets out another thunderous BLAAAAARRRRHHH as steam erupts from the sides. Contestants scramble into their entrances, both ends of the train slamming open dramatically.

It's go time.

Confessional: Duncan

The Underdogs

"Now this is what I'm talkin' about," he says, tapping the camera with two fingers. "You throw me into some suffocating cave with exploding walls and fake earthquakes? Sure, I'll handle it. But you wanna toss me on a speeding death train full of collapsing floors and chemical fumes? That's my kinda morning."

He leans back and laughs to himself.

"Guess I just needed a little chaos to wake me up. I was starting to feel all weird and… soft lately. But nah. I'm back. Time to crush this challenge and remind everyone that I'm not just some emo sap with a pocketknife—I'm the guy who wins."

He smirks wide.

"Let's burn some tracks."

The challenge was already in full swing by the time the cameras cut to The Dominators, who had boarded their end of the long, creaking, rickety train that was somehow still moving across rotted tracks, steam hissing from every pipe, the metal shrieking under the weight of both the contestants and whatever lunacy Chris had lined up for them.

Inside their first car, the team was already coughing.

"Is that… is that SMOKE?!" Lindsay shrieked, waving her hands in front of her face as the thick gray fog poured in from vents above.

"It's artificial!" Scarlett snapped, pulling her hoodie sleeve up to cover her nose and mouth. "Still not great for the lungs though."

"No kidding," Geoff wheezed, eyes watering. "I feel like I just walked into a barbecue hosted by a chainsaw."

The train car was a narrow, dimly lit room filled with old crates, broken furniture, and what appeared to be a maze made out of rusty filing cabinets stacked six feet high. The smoke made it nearly impossible to see, and loud sirens blared intermittently, forcing the team to shout over them.

"We've gotta get to the other side of this car!" Brick barked, charging forward with military precision. "Form a buddy system, stay low, and for the love of Canada, don't split up!"

"But the crates are MOVING," Ella whined, gripping Dawn's hand. Sure enough, some of the stacked furniture pieces were slowly shifting back and forth, as if the train had its own evil plan to crush them.

"We can't brute-force this," Alejandro said, analyzing the layout. "There has to be a pattern to the movement."

"I think I see it!" Sky called out, pointing to a red light blinking in sequence near one of the larger stacks. "It's timed. If we move now, we can—"

CRASH!

A crate slammed down beside her, nearly clipping her foot. She leapt back just in time.

"Okay, okay, maybe don't move now," she corrected, breath caught in her throat.

Shawn, already crouched by a vent at the bottom, was peeling back a loose panel of sheet metal. "Hey, there's a crawl space under here. We might be able to bypass the entire maze if we're willing to eat a little rust and dirt."

"Doesn't sound so bad," Scott said, already getting down on his stomach. "I used to do this all the time when I broke into—uh, visited abandoned factories."

"Is that supposed to make me trust you?" Dawn asked, squinting.

"Trust is optional," Scott said, grinning. "Winning isn't."

The team groaned, but one by one, they began crawling through the tight, grimy tunnel under the car's main floor. Lindsay cried out when a rat scurried by, and Mike accidentally banged his head, prompting a quick personality switch to Vito.

"Oh yeah, this tunnel's tight, baby," Vito purred, flexing unnecessarily. "Perfect for squeezing through with all this muscle."

"Mike, no!" Scarlett barked. "This is not the time for that persona!"

Brick grunted, pushing Vito along. "Save the flirting for the finale, Romeo! We've got a train to conquer."

As the last of The Dominators disappeared beneath the floorboards, the camera panned above them to reveal Chris and Chef watching via drone feed from a rickety control booth built onto the caboose.

"Nothing like low oxygen levels and collapsing furniture to bring a team together," Chris grinned, holding a can of root beer like it was a cocktail. "Man, I am good at this."

Chef didn't respond—he was too busy munching loudly on a stick of jerky, nodding with mild approval.

"Let's see how the Underdogs are doing, shall we?" Chris smirked, flipping a switch as the scene transitions down the train—toward the other team's chaos.

Compared to the chaos on The Dominators' end, The Underdogs were, shockingly, holding it together. Their first car looked more like a moving jungle gym than a death trap. Ropes dangled from the ceiling, platforms wobbled with every step, and gusts of air periodically blasted from the walls, threatening to knock anyone off balance.

"Careful!" Jasmine barked, steadying Zoey as a strong gust nearly sent her tumbling. "Use your core!"

"I don't have a core!" Zoey squeaked, flailing to keep upright.

"You do now!" Jasmine shot back.

Owen was already stuck halfway through a tire swing, wheezing. "Do I get points for enthusiasm?"

"Just move!" Courtney snapped, shoving the tire forward. Owen tumbled out the other side and landed in a puff of dust.

"Nice teamwork," Leshawna nodded with approval. "Keep that energy, y'all. This challenge ain't playing."

Meanwhile, up ahead, Duncan and Gwen were tearing through the course like a surprisingly well-oiled machine. Gwen used her agility to scale a rope wall while Duncan stabilized it from the bottom, grumbling under his breath but cooperating nonetheless.

"You sure you're not still upset with me for what happened in All-Stars?" Gwen asked, glancing down.

"I don't care," Duncan replied, his teeth gritted. That still bothered him, though he knew he should probably let bygones be bygones. The only reason he was even talking to Gwen was because everyone else was already paired up with someone else, and Gwen was the only person available—apart from Heather, whom he was trying to avoid.

Gwen smirked. "You're more tolerable than I remember too."

They moved quickly, without overthinking things, and surprisingly, their communication was on point. Gwen pointed out a loose rung; Duncan tightened it with a belt. Duncan couldn't reach a swinging bar; Gwen swung it his way with precision.

The two passed Bridgette and Trent, who were trying to help Anne Maria across a narrow beam. "Why is this so wobbly?" she whined. "Can someone hold my hand? Preferably one that moisturizes?"

"Focus!" Trent said, arms out like he was balancing on a surfboard.

From the back of the group, Heather watched the interaction between Duncan and Gwen with furrowed brows. She wasn't even hiding the way her eyes lingered on Duncan, who—unlike earlier—was laughing. With Gwen. Not with her.

Heather barely flinched when Dakota called out from the ropes above. "Hey, Heather, you good?"

"What?" Heather snapped, eyes shooting upward. "Yeah. Peachy."

"You seem distracted," Noah chimed in casually while hanging from a rope like a bored cat.

"I'm fine," Heather said through gritted teeth.

Noah shrugged. "Weird. I usually only see that look when someone's about to snap."

Heather forced a tight smile. "I'm not snapping, I'm observing.There's a difference."

Back in the car, Duncan climbed up to help Gwen swing across a final gap. As she landed perfectly, she offered him a quick high five, which he returned with slight hesitation. Heather's eye twitched.

"Great," she muttered. "Now they have a secret handshake."

Behind her, Owen stumbled through another tire, crashed into Leshawna, and brought them both down with a thud. Bridgette burst out laughing.

"Okay," Courtney said, pulling both of them up, "we're still technically ahead of the other team, so keep it together, people!"

Jasmine pointed toward the locked door at the end of the car. "Next car. Let's go."

Everyone picked up the pace, moving toward the next car.

Confessional: Gwen

The Underdogs

"You know what? I didn't expect it, but talking to Duncan has actually been… kinda nice?" She pauses, almost questioning herself, but then nods with confidence.

"Like, there's no drama anymore. None of that World Tour guilt or All-Stars nonsense hanging in the air. It's just two people helping each other not fall to their deaths during a train challenge." She smiles faintly. "It feels normal again. That's all I really wanted. Just… peace between us. And I'm glad we're finally there."

Confessional: Duncan

The Underdogs

"Every time I look at Gwen, I remember every screw-up. I cheated on Courtney with her. Courtney dumped me, got Gwen booted, then moved on in All-Stars. Then Gwen dumped me too, so I basically got dumped twice, though both breakups were for good reason admittedly. Then they became besties and started clowning me like it was hilarious."

His eye twitches slightly, the irritation more clear than anything.

"The second they made up, I became their punching bag. I'm doing mental gymnastics just to act normal, while Gwen acts like it's all ancient history. But for me? It's still fresh." He exhales sharply.

"The only reason I came back was to prove I'm not some washed-up loser, that Duncan is still a force to be reckoned with. Now I'm crushing on Heather, and letting Gwen back into my life? I mean—sure, at least I cut Courtney off and that felt amazing… but.. I think I still have some unfinished business. As for Heather.. I don't know what to do about that, I really don't."

The camera cuts to the Dominators, trudging through the rear train cars, already exhausted but determined. The car they've just entered looks like an industrial nightmare: conveyor belts crisscross the floor, gears grind along the walls, and the whole car tilts side to side with random mechanical groans.

"This car is literally moving!" Sky shouts, grabbing a hanging pipe for balance as the floor tips dangerously to the left.

"And heating up like a sauna!" Geoff yells, ducking under a low-hanging steam pipe just as it hisses to life. "This is messed up!"

Alejandro is already halfway across, leaping from one swinging crate to another with infuriating grace. "Watch your weight distribution! If too many of us move the wrong way—"

BOOM!

The floor shifts again, slamming Scott into a crate and nearly knocking Dawn off her feet.

Mike, now in Manitoba mode, pulls out a coiled rope and starts tying it to a wheel near a safety valve. "I'll anchor this here—Brick, get ready to haul when I say!"

Brick gives a crisp nod. "Sir, yes sir!"

Scarlett, hunched over a rusted control panel, studies the blinking lights and gears ticking in unison. "We need to reverse the conveyor belt's direction. That gives us a thirty-second window to cross safely. Lindsay, when I say 'now,' hit the yellow switch."

Lindsay beams. "Yellow like a banana! Got it!"

"No," Scarlett says firmly. "Yellow like the switch labeled Y-92 Reverse. It's the one with the blinking light. Do you see it?"

Lindsay squints. "Ooh… I see a shiny blue one! Is that it?"

"No. That's not it. The yellow one. Y-92. Only press the yellow Y-92 switch."

Lindsay nods confidently. "Yep! Y-92. You can count on me!"

Scarlett hesitates. Her brow twitches, but she sighs. "Alright. On my mark… three… two… one—NOW!"

CLICK!

Lindsay proudly slams her palm onto a bright red button labeled "E-19: SYSTEM RESET."

Scarlett's eyes go wide. "No."

The floor violently jerks, the conveyor belts grind to a stop, and then—

ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE.

The belts suddenly lurch in the opposite direction, sending everyone flying. Geoff tumbles backward and slams into Brick, who crashes into a pipe that explodes with scalding steam.

"AHHHHH!" screams Scott as he faceplants onto the moving belt, spinning helplessly toward a wall of swinging crates.

Sky loses her grip and lands flat on her back, sliding into Shawn who's shielding Ella from a flying gear.

"OW! MY BUTT!" Geoff hollers.

Ella shrieks as a sudden gust of steam blows her hair straight up.

Scarlett, utterly frozen in place, watches chaos unfold like a slow-motion train wreck. Her hand slowly lifts to her face and she facepalms hard.

"I should've known better than to ask Lindsay," she mutters in a chilling monotone.

Mike, still clinging to the valve, yells through the noise, "WHY IS IT GETTING FASTER?!"

Lindsay, who's now trying to crawl away from a conveyor belt she accidentally activated, looks up with wide eyes. "Wait… that wasn't yellow?"

Scarlett doesn't answer. She just stares, dead-eyed, as Brick groans from beneath a collapsed toolbox.

Alejandro finally reaches the control panel and slams the real yellow button. Everything stops. The belts grind to a halt. The tilting eases. The steam vents sigh and retract into the walls. Silence falls.

Everyone just lies where they are, bruised and panting.

Sky, flat on her back, mutters, "That was… horrifying."

Geoff wheezes, "My soul left my body for a second."

Scarlett finally turns toward Lindsay and says, in the flattest voice imaginable, "Congratulations. You just made this 10x harder than it already was."

Lindsay shrugs, still upside-down from being flung into a barrel. "Oops?"

The team slowly drags themselves to their feet, now sore, singed, and furious… but still in the game.

And unfortunately, still stuck on the chaos train.

Just as the Dominators gather what's left of their dignity and start limping across the stalled car, the overhead speakers crackle to life with static—followed by a burst of maniacal laughter.

Chris's voice bursts through the car, absolutely losing it.

"BAHAHAHAHA! Oh man—oh wow—oh my gosh, that was the funniest thing I've seen all season!"

The screen in the center of the train car flickers on, revealing Chris practically doubled over with laughter in the control room, holding his sides.

"Scarlett's face! Lindsay's button slam! Geoff bouncing like a pinball—classic! I almost fell out of my chair, I swear!"

The team glares at the screen from various unfortunate positions: Sky has soot on her face, Scott has a crate-shaped bruise on his forehead, and Brick is still pulling a wrench out of his armpit.

Chris wipes a tear from his eye. "Anyway… just thought I'd check in to let you guys know—drumroll please—you're officially trailing behind!"

A loud buzzer sounds above them as a glowing red light flashes.

"That's right, the Underdogs are currently in the lead! They're moving through Car 3 while you're still fumbling around with… whatever that was. So maybe get it together before they win again, yeah?"

The screen winks out. The silence that follows is somehow worse than the chaos.

Geoff groans, "Man, why do his insults always hurt more when we're already dying?"

Sky stands and dusts herself off. "Because he's right."

Scarlett crosses her arms, visibly vibrating with stress. "We are not losing again. Let's go. Now. And nobody touches anything unless I say so."

Lindsay raises a finger like she's about to say something cheerful.

"NOT. A. WORD," Scarlett snaps.

Lindsay lowers her hand. "Okayyy…"

Confessional: Scarlett

The Dominators

"She's gone."

She lets the words hang in the air for a moment, as if sealing a decision already carved in stone.

"I don't care how sweet she is, or how much everyone wants to treat her like a housepet with glitter. We're losing because of her. She reset our entire challenge. One. Button. Press."

Her eye twitches slightly, but she doesn't break her composure.

"I refuse to lose another challenge because of Lindsay. If we go to elimination tonight, she's gone."

Confessional: Lindsay

The Dominators

"So like… I definitely thought that button would open the next train door. I mean, red means go, right? Or was it green?"

She pauses, genuinely unsure, before giggling. "Whatever. It looked super pressable! How was I not supposed to press it?"

Her smile fades a little. "Scarlett looked like she was gonna, like, turn into a dragon and roast me alive. I don't get it. We're all trying our best, right?" She shrugs with a helpless little pout. "I just wanted to help…"

Onboard the rushing train, the Underdogs were holding it together—barely, but it was working. Despite the chaos, the teamwork had surprisingly begun to click. Everyone had a role, and for once, not everyone was shouting over each other. The rickety train cars swayed and jostled as the team moved with cautious urgency, transitioning from one car to the next.

Owen was using his strength to hold open a heavy door that had warped on its hinges, grunting with effort. "Okay! One at a time, people, but fast! This thing's closing like my grandma's mouth when I say I'm full!"

Courtney led the charge through the narrow connector, clipboard clutched like a weapon. "Let's go, people! Move with purpose!"

Bridgette helped Zoey over a loose floor panel before sliding across herself, wind whipping her hair into her face. "Why does this feel more like a surfboard on fire than a train?"

Trent, following close behind with Noah, remarked, "If this were a song, it'd be called 'Derail Me Softly'."

Noah arched a brow, deadpan as ever. "With backup vocals by Screaming Courtney and the Chaos Collective."

Behind them, Gwen and Duncan moved efficiently through the cars, working together to solve puzzles and unlatch stubborn levers with minimal friction. There was something effortless about how they synced up—grabbing the same tools, handing off tasks without speaking. It felt like the opposite of how things had once been between them.

"Nice job with the panel," Gwen said as Duncan locked a gear into place. "Feels kinda weird not yelling at each other."

Duncan gave a half-shrug, barely glancing at her. "Weird, yeah. But… not bad."

Further back, Heather was watching them.

Closely.

She hadn't intended to. She'd been focused on the challenge—at least, she thought she was. But every time Duncan and Gwen exchanged a look or coordinated without a word, her stomach twisted. It was annoying. Not for any reason she could explain out loud—just… annoying.

She picked up her pace slightly.

"Hey," she called to Duncan, brushing past Anne Maria and Jasmine. "You didn't help me back there with the fuse box."

Duncan looked back, expression unreadable. "You had it handled."

Heather squinted. "Yeah, but I still expected some help. That's how this works, remember?"

"I'm helping the team," Duncan replied simply. "Everyone's doing something."

Heather frowned. She didn't respond right away—just nodded and walked beside him in silence. Not behind. Beside.

As the group moved into the next car, the wind rushing louder now through the broken windows, Dakota and Leshawna were trying to interpret a sequence of blinking lights on the side wall.

"Okay, I think this is a code," Dakota said, squinting. "Like… pink, green, pink, blue—wait, is that pink or magenta?"

"I swear if this is another 'guess the color' situation I'm gonna scream," Leshawna said, shaking her head. "Just press the green one and see what happens."

Anne Maria blew a piece of gum as she sauntered past them. "You guys are still arguing over colors? Step aside."

Meanwhile, Heather lingered near Duncan, silent, watching as he continued to work side by side with Gwen. Every now and then she offered input, but Duncan barely looked at her. It wasn't overt, but she noticed.

And she hated it.

Not enough to call it out—but just enough to make her want to reclaim the rhythm they'd started building in the past few episodes.

So, she followed him into the next car.

Not because she cared, of course. She just… didn't trust him to not screw up a fuse box again. That's all.

Yeah.

That's all.

Confessional: Heather

The Underdogs

Heather sat in the confessional, arms wrapped around herself as she mumbled under her breath.

"Please don't hate me, please don't hate me…" she said softly, almost to herself. Then, with a frustrated sigh, she opened her eyes and noticed the camera light blinking. Her head snapped up.

"Are you serious? This camera is on? UGH! When are you not filming us?!" She rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath about "creepy producers" before catching her own reflection in the lens.

"Well… now that I'm here…"

Her confident posture faltered just slightly, and she glanced down at her lap.

"I'm just…" She hesitated, searching for the words. "I don't even know what's going on anymore. He's ignoring me, and I—" She stopped, pressing her lips into a thin line for a moment before her voice softened.

"I just… I don't want him to hate me. That's all. I know I can be… a lot. But when we… y'know… when we're not fighting? It's… nice. And now he won't even look at me."

She groaned, burying her face in her hands briefly before peeking up at the camera again.

"I don't even know why I care this much. It's stupid. He's stupid. Everything's stupid."

Then, quieter, almost a whisper:

"But please don't hate me… okay?"

She looked away, fiddling with the hem of her shirt, visibly flustered, before finally swatting at the camera.

"You can stop filming now, thanks."

Chris leaned back in his oversized leather chair in his private cottage, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a bowl of popcorn balanced on his lap. His eyes were glued to the bank of monitors showing every angle of the train challenge — but one screen in particular had his full attention: Heather's confessional.

As her voice cracked out "But please don't hate me… okay?", Chris nearly spat his coffee all over the controls.

"Ohhh ho ho!" he cackled, grinning from ear to ear. "Gold. Solid. Gold."

He replayed the footage, backing it up a few seconds so he could hear her desperate little whisper again.

"Please don't hate me…"

Chris mimicked her tone with an exaggerated pout. "Aww… poor, mean Heather's got a crush and doesn't know how to act."

He tossed a handful of popcorn in his mouth, snickering. "Oh man, this season is just writing itself now. Forget the challenge — this is where the real drama is."

Leaning forward, he flicked a switch to zoom the camera in even closer on Heather as she stormed out of the confessional, flustered.

"Better keep these cameras rolling," he muttered to himself with a devious grin. "Oh yeah… this is definitely making the highlight reel."

Heather stormed out of the confessional booth, cheeks faintly flushed but jaw set in a familiar, determined scowl. Whatever vulnerable feelings had slipped out in front of the camera — well, they were buried again under her usual armor.

She stalked through the narrow train car, ignoring the noise and chaos around her as The Underdogs continued pulling ahead. A few teammates glanced her way, but she shot them such a sharp glare they all quickly went back to their tasks.

"Move," she snapped at Noah, who was crouched in front of one of the levers she needed.

"Wow," Noah deadpanned as he shuffled aside, "it's so nice when you say please."

Heather didn't even grace that with a response. She tugged down hard on the lever and flipped another switch just above it, the train car rattling as the mechanism shifted.

Gwen called out from the other end of the car, "Hey, that's not the order we agreed on!"

Heather shot her a look that could cut glass. "Well, clearly yourorder wasn't working fast enough. So I'm doing it my way."

Bridgette, struggling with a heavy crate, muttered to Zoey under her breath. "She's back to classic Heather mode, huh?"

Zoey nodded quietly, though she watched Heather with a curious expression, noting the way her movements were a little more frantic than usual. Almost like she was trying to distract herself.

Heather stomped toward the next junction and began working the gears herself, barking orders without looking at anyone in particular. "You! Over there! Get that panel open. You! Make sure the bolts don't seize. I don't care what you do—just keep up!"

Duncan glanced at her briefly from where he was working with Gwen, and she didn't even acknowledge him—just focused harder, flipping another switch with a loud clang.

If anyone noticed how she kept glancing back at Duncan out of the corner of her eye… they wisely chose not to say anything.

For now, Heather was back in her element. Cold. Commanding. And pretending the flutter in her chest wasn't there at all.

Meanwhile, back in the Dominators' section of the train, things were… a disaster.

The team scrambled around the car like ants on a hot plate. The air was thick with smoke from the earlier system reset, gears were still grinding ominously, and the lighting kept flickering like some sort of haunted house.

Scarlett was at the front of the group, furiously typing commands into a control panel while muttering calculations under her breath. Her hair stuck to her forehead from sweat, and her usual calm composure was cracking just slightly.

"We're already twelve minutes behind," she snapped. "If anyone touches another button without explicit instruction from me, I swear—"

Geoff, trying to help by wrenching on a stuck lever, called back, "Whoa, Scarlett, chill! We're all just trying to help, dude."

Scarlett turned her head just far enough to glare at him over her glasses. "The last time someone 'tried to help,' Geoff, they reset the entire car back to square one. If you want to 'help,' go stand somewhere out of my line of sight."

Geoff backed up sheepishly, muttering something under his breath about "someone needing a spa day."

Lindsay, still looking confused, was sweeping her hand over a big red button like she was tempted to press it again. Brick physically grabbed her wrist and pulled it away. "Ma'am, absolutely not."

Lindsay blinked. "But it's just… sitting there. It looks so… pushable…"

Brick growled under his breath. "No pushing."

Nearby, Shawn was ducked behind a crate, peeking out like zombies might pop out of the smoke at any moment. "I don't trust this train. No way this is just mechanical. You see that light flicker? That's a ghost light. I know it."

Ella, ever the optimist, was trying to keep morale up, albeit unsuccessfully. She clapped her hands and sang, "We can do this, we can do this, we just need to try—"

Scott groaned and cut her off. "If you sing one more rhyme I'm throwin' you off the caboose."

Mike—who had slipped into Vito mode—flexed his arms and tried to lift one of the crates blocking the exit, grunting dramatically. "Don't worry, ladies. Vito's got this." He didn't actually budge the crate at all.

Sky, pinching the bridge of her nose, muttered to herself, "I cannot believe this is my team."

Scarlett finally let out a loud ugh! and slammed her palm onto the control panel. "Everyone stop talking and just let me fix it before you all break something else!"

The car rattled and jerked slightly as she worked, but the gears finally started turning in the right direction again. The Dominators collectively held their breath as they inched forward—slowly, painfully, and nowhere near as quickly as they needed to if they wanted to catch up to the Underdogs.

At the back of the car, Alejandro leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed and an amused smirk on his face. "Well," he drawled, "at least we're consistent… consistently second-best."

That earned him a death glare from Scarlett, but he only chuckled.

For now, the Dominators pressed on—sluggish, chaotic, and a far cry from the well-oiled machine they hoped to be.

Confessional: Alejandro

The Dominators

Alejandro sits back casually in the confessional booth, fingers steepled, his trademark charming smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"While there is absolutely no doubt that this team is highly incompetent—frankly, it's embarrassing—I do believe it can still be saved. All it needs is someone responsible, someone intelligent, someone who can lead without completely losing their head. Scarlett certainly checks the boxes for responsible and smart. No question there. But… the girl's got anger issues. Serious anger issues. I've seen angry contestants before, but she? She scares even me a little. And that's saying something."

He leans forward slightly, his tone lowering as though he's letting the audience in on a secret.

"You can't lead a team by alienating them, no matter how correct you are. Leadership requires charm, subtlety… qualities she seems entirely unwilling to learn. So yes… this team canbe saved. But not with Scarlett at the helm. Maybe… just maybe… someone like me should step up instead. Someone who knows how to play people the right way."

He smirks fully now, winking at the camera. "And you all know no one plays people better than me."

Confessional: Scarlett

The Dominators

Scarlett sits stiffly, arms crossed, her glasses slightly fogged up as she glares directly into the lens. Her voice is calm at first, but her tone grows sharper with every word.

"I'm going to say this once. And only once. This team would be completely and utterly useless without me. I have singlehandedly repaired the train controls, corrected our pathing, and stopped Lindsay from pressing any more catastrophic buttons. And yet—" she adjusts her glasses harshly, her lips curling into a scowl. "—I am still surrounded by incompetence. Lindsay has the IQ of a toaster. Geoff has the focus of a golden retriever. Shawn is terrified of imaginary zombies. And don't even get me started on Scott."

She breathes in slowly, trying—unsuccessfully—to compose herself.

"But no. No, it's fine. I will carry them. Again. Because apparently no one else is capable of basic logic on this team. But if they drag me down and we lose this challenge? If that happens, then this team is going to learn the hard way what happens when you make an enemy out of me."

Her lips twist into a cold smile as she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

"Consider that… a warning."

She stares at the camera for a beat before the feed cuts.

Chris lounged back in a leather chair in his private lakeside cottage, feet kicked up on a coffee table, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a pair of binoculars in the other. Two giant flat screens on the wall showed live feeds from the train challenge—one for The Underdogs, one for The Dominators. Chef stood nearby, arms crossed, clearly trying not to laugh as he watched Lindsay flail around on screen.

Chris leaned forward and grinned at the chaos unfolding.

"Well, well, well… what do we have here? The Underdogs are actually pulling it together. Didn't think that ragtag bunch of drama magnets had it in 'em. Guess desperation really is the mother of teamwork. Look at them go!"

He picked up a remote and zoomed the camera in on Heather, who was barking orders while Duncan kept noticeably avoiding her. Chris chuckled knowingly.

"Ahhh, look at that. Heather's trying soooo hard to pretend she's not unraveling over Duncan giving her the cold shoulder. Classic Heather. Honestly, this is better than the soap operas Chef watches. Don't even try to deny it, man."

Chef just grunted, shaking his head, but there was a faint smirk under his mustache.

Chris swiveled to the other screen and nearly choked on his coffee at the sight of Lindsay wiping out and resetting The Dominators' progress, sending them into full-on chaos. Scarlett's livid expression filled the screen next.

"Ohhhhhhh! And there it is! The big red button of doom! You gotta love it when someone does exactly what they're not supposed to. I've seen train wrecks before—but this? This is a masterpiece! Lindsay might've just set a new record for fastest team implosion."

He leaned back, resting his hands behind his head, beaming at the screens.

"And Scarlett… oh man, Scarlett's about one more slip-up away from snapping like a rubber band. Can we get a close-up on her? That's the look of a villain origin story right there. Chilling."

Chris reached over to snag a muffin from the plate Chef had brought in and took a big bite, still watching with glee.

"Ah, nothing like the smell of chaos in the morning. Who needs a train to crash when you've got these clowns conducting their own disaster? This is why I love this job. No scriptwriters could come up with this gold."

Chef finally chuckled, shaking his head.

Chris smirked. "Don't look at me like that, Chef. You know you're loving this too. Now, let's see which team completely flames out first… my money's still on The Dominators. But hey—never underestimate The Underdogs' ability to screw up a lead."

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as both teams continued to struggle on screen.

"This is about to get real good."

The Dominators were finally starting to find some kind of rhythm—though "rhythm" on this team still looked a little like a three-legged race down a flight of stairs.

The sound of grinding metal and rattling tracks filled the train car as they moved down the next segment, everyone tense after their humiliating reset thanks to Lindsay. But now, surprisingly, the team was actually coordinating—more or less.

Brick led the way this time, calling out directions with his military bark. "Step! Hold! Move left—LEFT, GEOFF, YOUR OTHER LEFT—good! Keep the line tight!"

Geoff, still winded from earlier, gave a thumbs-up. "Dude, no worries! I got this now! …Probably."

Sky kept pace just behind Brick, clearly determined to redeem herself after snapping earlier. "We're making up ground," she said between breaths, scanning the car ahead of them. "If we keep up this momentum, we might actually catch up."

Alejandro lingered near the back, helping to guide Lindsay along—though mostly to keep her hands off any more suspicious buttons. "Just… watch where you're putting your hands, cariño," he said smoothly, his patience clearly fraying. "If you feel tempted to press anything, don't."

Lindsay nodded sheepishly, clutching her hands to her chest. "I know, I know. I'm, like, suuuper sorry about that last thing. But hey! At least I didn't fall off the train, right?"

Scarlett, stalking just ahead of them, muttered darkly under her breath. "Would've been less catastrophic if you had…"

Ella, ever the optimist, chimed in with a bright smile, even as her hair was disheveled and her dress was coated in dust. "Oh, don't say that! We're all here, working together, and that's what matters. Right, Shawn?"

Shawn was too busy peeking into every dark corner and ceiling crevice to answer right away. "Yeah, sure… except for the mutant rats I swear I just saw…"

Mike—currently in his Chester persona—limped along, muttering something about his hip while Brick barked at him to keep moving.

"C'mon, team!" Brick called, spotting the next obstacle ahead: a series of shifting platforms that moved back and forth like giant conveyor belts. "We can handle this! Just one step at a time, keep your eyes ahead!"

Geoff took a deep breath. "Yeah, man, we got this! Right, guys?"

For the first time all morning, the team gave a half-hearted but unified, "Yeah!"

Even Scarlett, still glowering, allowed herself a tiny smirk. Maybe, just maybe, they could salvage this after all.

And so, one by one, they started across the platforms—slipping here, grabbing each other there, but moving forward nonetheless.

Somewhere in the middle of the chaos, Alejandro glanced toward the front of the car and let a sly grin tug at his lips. "Ah… now this is starting to feel like a competition again."

The Underdogs' lead was crumbling fast.

Sparks danced across the panel in front of Duncan as he thrashed and jerked in place, his hands locked on the wrong switch. Bolts of electricity lit up his mohawk like a firework show gone horribly wrong.

"SHIT!" Gwen yelled, her voice rising over the crackling. She dove for the puzzle panel, her fingers flying over the buttons. "Hang on, Duncan—I'm fixing it!"

Heather was already shoving her way in beside her, her usual icy composure replaced by something far more volatile. "Move over, Goth Girl—I know what to do!" she barked, grabbing for the same set of switches.

"No, you don't even know what you're doing, Heather!" Gwen snapped, elbowing her aside.

"I do know what I'm doing!" Heather growled back. "You're the one that screwed it up in the first place!"

Their arms tangled, fingers fighting over buttons, shoving each other hard as the panel sparked more violently with every passing second.

"G-G-G-GUYSSSS…" Duncan stammered through gritted teeth, his body jerking unnaturally. "T-T-T-T-THIS ISN'T… T-T-T-THE TIME… TO F-F-F-FIGHT…"

"HE'S RIGHT!" Bridgette yelled from behind them, hands clutching her head in exasperation. "You're wasting time!"

But Gwen and Heather were already beyond listening, their bickering boiling over into a full-on shoving match even as Duncan smoked like a faulty toaster.

"You just wanna save your freaking boyfriend!" Gwen accused bitterly, jabbing a finger at Heather's chest.

Heather's eyes flared with fury. "SHUT UP!" she shot back, practically shoving Gwen into the wall as she took control of the panel.

The rest of the team stood frozen in stunned silence as the sparks intensified and Duncan let out one final strangled yell—

"S-S-S-S-SERIOUSLY, ANY T-T-T-T-TIME NOW!"

"Fine! Then fix it!" Gwen hissed, stepping back at last.

Heather's hands flew over the puzzle with laser focus, her lip curled in determination. With a sharp twist and a slam of one final button, the sparking stopped, and Duncan collapsed onto his knees, coughing and gasping for breath.

The room fell silent but for Duncan's ragged breathing. Gwen and Heather glared at each other, chests heaving, neither willing to break eye contact.

"You're welcome," Heather finally sneered, brushing imaginary dust off her shoulder.

Gwen folded her arms tightly, still scowling. "Don't think this is over."

"Fine by me," Heather shot back, turning away—but not before casting the faintest worried glance toward Duncan.

Duncan, wheezing through a cough, made a chilling threat, "I'm going to kill the both of you in your sleep."

"What do we do now?!" Owen cried, flailing his arms like the train car was about to explode.

"What do you think, lunchbox?" Anne Maria snapped, already elbow-deep in the puzzle box. "We keep tryin' to get outta this car!"

Without waiting for anyone's help, she twisted a dial, flipped a hidden latch, and slammed a button in one fluid motion. Sparks flew—and the doors creaked open with a loud clang.

Anne Maria whipped around, tossing her hair smugly.

"BOOM, baby!" she declared, finger guns at the team.

"All right, Anne Maria, sick work!" Owen cheered, clapping his hands as the doors groaned open. "YEAH!"

"All she did was hit, like… one button," Noah deadpanned, arms crossed, unimpressed.

Anne Maria whipped around, glaring at him, hands on her hips. "…Duncan, would you kill him in his sleep for me tonight?"

Duncan, still leaning on the wall catching his breath from the earlier electrocution, cracked a crooked grin. "I got you."

Confessional: Heather

The Underdogs

"Why do people keep calling Duncan my boyfriend? Ugh! We are NOT dating! Okay? We're not… we're.."

She glances off to the side, her confident tone wavering just a little.

The Dominators pressed on, now only two cars away from the middle car. For once, the team was actually thriving—at least compared to the chaos earlier. Minor stumbles and a few bickering matches flared up here and there, but overall, they were making steady progress.

That is, until Lindsay's perfectly-manicured finger hovered over yet another blinking button.

"Don't. You. Dare," Scarlett hissed through gritted teeth as she scrambled to realign some wires.

But it was too late. Click.

A harsh alarm blared and several panels in the car reset with a loud BZZT. The team groaned in unison, several of them throwing their hands up in frustration.

"Ugh! Are you kidding me right now?!" Sky shouted.

"But I'm just trying to help!" Lindsay exclaimed defensively, pouting.

Scarlett spun around, her face red, pointing a wrench at her. "You've done enough 'helping,' Lindsay! And you better hope we win this… because if we don't, I'm voting your blond ass out."

Lindsay's lip trembled slightly as she backed up a step, muttering, "Well… jeez. Somebody got up on the wrong side of the bunk bed today…"

Confessional: Lindsay

The Dominators

She sits on the bench in the confessional room, arms crossed, visibly annoyed.

"Why is this team so rude? Ugh! Like, seriously? I'm just trying to help and everyone keeps yelling at me like I just… set the train on fire or something! I bet The Underdogs would be nice to me… they probably wouldn't even mind if I pressed a few buttons here and there. I've just been sitting here watching from the sidelines all day—and, like, that gets boring, okay? So I just wanna help! Is that too much to ask?! Ughhh!"

She flips her hair and lets out a huff before glaring at the camera. "And for the record? My idea of 'helping' is, like, super helpful. They just don't appreciate genius when they see it."

The Dominators burst into the final car of the train, the heavy metal door slamming behind them with a dramatic clang that echoes through the chamber. Immediately, they freeze.

This car is different.

Massive gears churn along the walls. Steam hisses from random pipes overhead. Electric coils spark ominously across the ceiling. The floor? A shifting maze of pressure plates and collapsing tiles. The car feels like a mix between a factory, a science lab, and a torture chamber—and that's before they even notice the countdown clock ticking ominously at the far end.

"Whoa," Geoff breathes, eyes wide. "Okay this is… not chill."

"This looks like something out of a Scarlett fever dream," Scott mutters.

Scarlett narrows her eyes, already scanning every surface of the room. "Oh believe me, I wouldn't make it this… inefficient."

"Let's stay focused!" Brick shouts, already stepping onto a tile—only to yank his foot back when it gives a violent snap and steam bursts from a pipe inches from his head.

"I think we should avoid the shiny ones," Sky suggests, eyeing the floor tiles. "The pattern's randomized but the shinier ones collapse faster."

Alejandro, pacing along the wall, nods. "Then we move one at a time. Dawn, you take the left flank. Mike, whichever personality you need to activate, do it fast."

Mike blinks. "Uhh… maybe I should go with Manitoba?"

"NO!" half the team shouts in unison.

"Then… I'll just be me."

Scarlett pushes her glasses up. "This is doable. We just need to stay calm and NOT let Lindsay touch anything."

"I wasn't even gonna!" Lindsay snaps, crossing her arms.

"You were reaching for a gear as you said that," Ella points out gently.

"I thought it looked like a flower!" Lindsay insists.

Geoff stretches his arms and cracks his knuckles. "Alright, squad. Let's make this car cry."

The team slowly begins navigating the floor, hopping from plate to plate, while Brick and Shawn assist from the back by relaying safe paths. Scarlett darts ahead to decipher the mechanical locks, and Sky begins lifting herself toward the ceiling wires to reroute a current.

Everywhere, there's danger—but there's also momentum. The Dominators are thriving.

Meanwhile…

The Underdogs are not.

The next car they've entered isn't nearly as threatening-looking as the one The Dominators are in, but it's proving to be deceptively frustrating. The room is long, narrow, and packed wall-to-wall with shifting panels, decoy puzzles, and levers that appear helpful… but do absolutely nothing.

Noah yanks a lever. Nothing happens.

"Okay, this one's fake too," he groans, "that's lever number six hundred and twelve."

"I'm sweating through my eyeballs," Owen moans, dragging himself across the floor.

Courtney yells from the other side of the car, "None of these puzzles make sense! One of these riddles says 'you'll see clearly when you stop looking,' what does that even mean?!"

"Sounds like some cryptic break-up text," Gwen mutters under her breath, scowling at the wall.

Bridgette points toward a glowing panel in the corner. "Okay, okay! That one lit up when I touched the floor in that square—"

"Then move! Let me see if it's a pattern thing," Jasmine cuts in, crossing the tiles carefully.

"You know," Anne Maria grunts, "we could just break the wall."

"We've been through this, Anne Maria," Trent says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I'm just saying. Let me at it for like 10 minutes with a crowbar…"

The tension is building. The Dominators are in the final car. The Underdogs are slipping. But can they pull it together in time?

Only the train—and Chris—knows for sure.

The Underdogs finally crack the maddening puzzle of the second-to-last car, their teamwork finally coming through. The last switch is flipped with a satisfying clang, and the heavy steel door at the end of the car slides open, groaning as it reveals a narrow, dimly lit corridor ahead.

For a moment, no one moves—they just stand there, panting, sweaty, grimy, and staring at the faint glow spilling from the next car.

"This is it," Jasmine breathes. "Last car. One more to go."

"About time," Courtney mutters, brushing dust off her arms. "I was starting to think we'd live and die in here."

Owen claps his hands together. "Guys! This is it! This is the one where we WIN, baby!"

Zoey offers him a supportive smile and adds, "We've come this far. If we keep working together like we did just now… there's no way they'll beat us."

Heather, still standing slightly to the back of the group, doesn't say anything—her eyes flick for a fraction of a second toward Duncan, who is studiously avoiding her gaze.

"Let's just get this over with," Gwen mutters, already stepping into the corridor.

The team files into the final car… and immediately stops.

The air inside is cold. Not just chilly, cold, like walking into a freezer. Steam curls from vents in the walls, filling the space with a silvery fog that makes it hard to see more than a few feet ahead. Frost clings to the metal panels under their feet, slick and uneven. A series of platforms stretch out ahead of them like stepping stones over a pit of swirling, mechanical nothingness.

On the far end of the car, barely visible through the mist, there's another heavy door with a red flashing light above it—the exit.

The final exit.

Noah lets out a low whistle. "Well. That's… foreboding."

"You don't say," Trent deadpans.

Anne Maria adjusts her hair and mutters, "Don't even care. I've walked on worse at the Staten Island ferry."

Courtney narrows her eyes at the frost-dusted floor. "We can't rush this. If these platforms are loose or rigged somehow…"

She doesn't finish, but everyone gets the idea.

Jasmine tests the first platform with her foot—it wobbles just slightly, but holds. She hops on, and it hisses as the frost crackles beneath her weight.

"Okay. We can do this. One at a time. Be smart."

The team begins to move. Carefully. Slowly. The frost makes every surface slick, and Owen nearly wipes out twice, only for Bridgette and Zoey to each grab him by an arm.

"Thanks, ladies," he whispers, grinning through chattering teeth. "Best. Day. Ever."

Dakota's heels slip as she makes her way forward, letting out a loud shriek before Leshawna grabs her by the back of her shirt and pulls her upright.

"Girl, walk like you got sense," Leshawna mutters.

Meanwhile, Gwen and Duncan are in the middle of the line, working together again on instinct as they scan for traps. Duncan crouches to check one of the plates for trip wires. "Clear," he says shortly.

Heather is just behind them, biting her lip without realizing it. Every time she sees Duncan and Gwen exchange a word, a flicker of something she doesn't care to name flares in her chest.

Noah brings up the rear, muttering a running commentary to himself about how this is "exactly how horror movies start" and how he "didn't even like trains."

The closer they get to the exit door, the more intense the cold gets. Their breath fogs in front of them, and even Jasmine begins shivering despite her usual stoic demeanor.

Then the final platform reveals itself. The one just before the exit. And it's… spinning.

A circular disk, slick with ice, slowly rotating over a seemingly bottomless pit.

"Seriously?" Courtney groans. "We're this close, and now THIS?!"

Jasmine crouches and studies it. "If we distribute our weight evenly and time the jump just right, we can do it. But we can't all crowd it at once—it's not wide enough."

"I vote we send Owen last," Noah pipes up.

"HEY!"

Heather snaps out of her own thoughts. "We don't have time to bicker about it. I'll go first. Then Jasmine, then… everyone else just follow our lead."

Without waiting for anyone to argue, Heather leaps forward onto the spinning disk. She wobbles—just barely—but steadies herself, crouched low as she maneuvers to the far edge and leaps again, landing safely on the other side with a sharp exhale.

Jasmine follows, strong and precise. Then Zoey. Then Bridgette. One by one, the team makes it across—except for Owen, who shrieks the entire way, nearly taking Noah down with him when he slips halfway through.

Finally, the whole team stands in front of the exit door. Courtney reaches for the handle… and it's locked.

"Oh, you've GOT to be kidding me," she growls.

But then they spot it—a final puzzle panel built into the door.

Heather steps forward. "Move. I've got this."

The team crowds behind her as she begins working on the panel. Sparks fly as circuits click into place one by one. The red light above the door flashes… then turns green.

The door hisses open.

And they step into the final chamber, just as we cut to Chris's corridors.

"One car left! Looks like the Underdogs are hot on the Dominators' heels! Who's gonna take this home? Find out after the break!"

After the commercial break…

The screen slams back into chaos.

Both teams—The Dominators on the left, The Underdogs on the right—are neck and neck, each battling their own unique final car. Chris's voice echoes gleefully over the PA, his commentary sharp as ever.

"And we're back! Look at this, folks—both teams, both trains, both on their very last car before the center! It's anyone's game!"

The Dominators are deep into their car—a towering labyrinth of sliding walls, swinging pendulums, and a deadly floor made of moving pressure plates that reset the entire room if stepped on wrong.

Scarlett is barking orders like a field general, eyes scanning the patterns of the plates, while Brick and Shawn scramble to block and hold the walls back for the others.

"Left! Then two forward! Then WAIT for the pendulum—GO!" Scarlett yells, her hair frizzing from the constant rush of hot air being vented into the maze.

Alejandro sweeps in beside her with his trademark smirk, but even he's starting to sweat through his pristine shirt. "Ah, the sweet scent of teamwork under pressure," he mutters, yanking Lindsay back by the hood just before she can step on the wrong tile again.

"Oopsie! Sorry! I just thought it was so shiny—"

"Save it!" snaps Sky, propelling herself between two swinging blades. "We're running out of time!"

On the other side of the center car, The Underdogs are just as frantic. Their car is an unholy hybrid of frost and fire—half the car is a freezing ice field while the other half blasts random bursts of flames from floor vents.

Jasmine takes point, shouting commands as Duncan and Gwen—still working awkwardly side-by-side—pry open a panel to rewire the flame vents.

"I SAID RED WIRE!" Gwen snaps, slapping Duncan's hand away.

"I am holding the red wire!" Duncan snarls back.

Heather is pacing just behind them, arms crossed but eyes glued to their progress. "If you two would stop bickering like children, we might actually finish before we die of hypothermia or spontaneous combustion!"

Dakota, meanwhile, slips across the ice, her high-pitched shrieks mixing with Owen's as he belly-flops, nearly taking out Noah and Anne Maria in the process.

But back with The Dominators—Scarlett's mind is firing on all cylinders.

"Okay," she mutters, crouched low, tracing a finger along the grooves of the pressure plates. "If we stagger our steps to every third plate and wait for the rhythm of the walls… then…"

She lunges, presses a hidden switch embedded in the wall, and the entire room shudders.

A siren blares as the plates light up green and the walls retract.

"WE'RE CLEAR!" she roars triumphantly, springing up to her feet.

Shawn claps his hands, grinning despite the sweat. "Oh man, we're actually gonna win this!"

The team surges forward as one, sprinting down the final stretch of the car where a glowing golden door awaits at the end.

But suddenly—WHAM!—one last wall slams down, splitting the group into two halves.

Brick and Lindsay are stuck behind it.

"GO!" Brick shouts from the other side, shoving his shoulder against the wall with all his might. "We'll catch up—JUST WIN!"

Geoff lets out a rallying yell, throwing his arms around Sky and Dawn as they duck under a final swinging blade.

Alejandro grabs the final lever, holding it until the glowing door slides open.

They burst into the center car.

And standing in the center is a giant golden buzzer, glowing red.

Scarlett sprints forward first, slamming her palm into it with enough force to make the whole train car shake.

A massive horn blares through the train, the walls and floors of both teams' cars locking in place and lights flashing.

"AND THAT'S IT, FOLKS!" Chris's voice crows. "THE DOMINATORS TAKE THIS ONE!"

Confetti cannons explode in the center car, showering the winning team in gold and silver streamers.

The Underdogs, still scrambling across their own last car, freeze mid-step as their lights flash red, signaling their loss.

Heather's head drops into her hands. Duncan exhales in frustration. Gwen slams her fist against the frosted wall.

Meanwhile, back on The Dominators' side, the team collapses into a heap of triumphant but exhausted bodies.

Sky actually laughs as she helps Geoff to his feet. "We… we did it! Against all odds!"

Scarlett, though, just crosses her arms with a smug little smile and mutters under her breath: "As if there was ever any doubt."

Lindsay bounces excitedly in place, squealing, "Oh my gosh, we won! We really won!"

Alejandro gives his signature smirk and winks at the camera.

The last shot before cutting back to Chris is Scarlett dusting off her hands and glancing at Lindsay.

"You got lucky," she mutters. "But you're still gone next."

Cut to Chris, kicking back on a lawn chair outside his cottage with Chef behind him sipping a smoothie.

"Well, would ya look at that? The Dominators actually pulled their heads out of their butts long enough to win something. Meanwhile, The Underdogs…" He pauses, grinning. "…better hope they brought some strong arguments to the elimination ceremony tonight. Stay tuned, viewers! Because this drama is just getting warmed up."

Duncan sat under one of the massive pine trees near camp, hunched forward, the glow of the moon casting long shadows on his face. In his hand, his infamous knife worked methodically, carving a skull into the rough bark of the trunk. The sound of the blade scraping wood was steady, almost calming.

But then—

"Duncan."

His hand froze mid-carve, and he didn't even bother to turn his head.

"What?" he shot back flatly.

"We need to talk," Heather's voice came from behind, sharp as a blade itself. "And I mean NOW, because I've got a serious problem with you."

That got his attention. He finally turned, his dark eyes narrowing at her with faint amusement. "What's new? You always got a problem with someone."

Heather's heels crunched the dirt as she strode closer, crossing her arms tightly. "Duncan…" she said through gritted teeth, her tone carrying a warning. You'd better watch it.

Duncan smirked faintly but didn't say anything.

Heather inhaled sharply and finally blurted it out.

"Why were you so close with Gwen today?"

That made him pause.

He blinked at her, then scoffed softly and leaned back against the tree, knife twirling lazily in his fingers. "What do you mean? She's on the team. We were working the challenge. That's it."

Heather stepped even closer, her frustration radiating off her. "Yeah, but you weren't just working with the team—you were working specifically with Gwen. Stuck to her side all day. Everyone saw it. Is there…" her voice lowered dangerously, "…something going on between you two?"

Duncan actually laughed at that, bitter and humorless. "What? You serious? Gwen? She dumped me, Heather. Back in All-Stars. Hard."

Heather faltered slightly, but her frown stayed firmly in place. "Okay, yeah, exactly! She is your ex, and here you are glued to her like it's World Tour all over again while—while we…" she stumbled over her words, throwing her hands up, "…while us, whatever the hell this is—you can't just expect me not to notice that, Duncan! You see how that looks, right?"

Duncan stood now, shoving his knife into his back pocket, his eyes narrowing into a glare. "Oh, so now you're interrogating me like you're my girlfriend?"

Heather froze, her breath catching, her carefully built mask cracking just a little. She glared right back at him, but her voice cracked faintly when she fired back.

"I'm not—" she started, then stopped herself, groaning loudly in frustration. She ran her hands through her hair, tugging at it slightly. "I'm not your girlfriend, okay? I know I'm not. But I'm… I'm your…" she trailed off, shaking her head furiously. "God, I don't even know what the hell I am to you, and it's driving me insane."

She finally locked eyes with him, her tone venomous now, but the faintest crack of hurt bled through her words.

"So tell me, Duncan," she said, her arms tightening across her chest. "Why were you so close with her today… and barely even talking to me? Huh? Explain that to me, because I don't get it. I don't get you."

Duncan just stood there for a moment, his jaw tight, fists clenching at his sides as he stared at her. The silence between them was louder than the scrape of his knife had ever been.

Heather's breath came fast, her cheeks slightly flushed, and though she stood tall, her voice cracked again as she finally muttered:

"Because whatever this is? It's starting to feel like it doesn't mean anything to you at all."

Heather's arms fell to her sides as her breath trembled. Her voice was sharp, but cracked just enough to betray how much she was holding in.

"…It's just that—" she started, then stopped, swallowing hard, forcing herself to meet his eyes even though her own were glassy.

"Our little… dynamic, or whatever this is… it started back during the cooking challenge. We really hit it off. And I thought…" she trailed off, gripping her arms tighter, "…then we had the haunted hotel challenge, and it felt like… like things between us kept blossoming."

Her words started coming faster now, her composure slipping the longer she went on.

"And then there was that episode where you lashed out at Courtney—which, okay, I'm not blaming you for! It was justified. But I'm just saying, there was that moment, and you were a mess after, and I was the one who helped calm you down and refocus."

Her voice cracked again.

"And we watched movies together. We pulled all-nighters playing video games. We'd sneak out for those late-night walks, or those random swims under the stars…"

She let out a humorless laugh, though it sounded more like a sob she didn't want to let out.

"And the way the team was always questioning what was going on between us, like why we were glued to the hip every single day—God, it was fun watching them wonder. Because in my head? I thought something was going to happen. Something real. I thought we'd just… randomly reveal the fact that we were dating. And we'd team up. And we'd win all the challenges and split the two million like some stupid fucking crappy fairytale ending."

Her hands clenched into fists now as she took a shaky breath.

"…This—whatever this is—means a lot to me, Duncan. Because you're not like Alejandro. Or anyone else I've been with before him. You're different. You… you get me. In a way nobody else ever did. And that should mean something, because I don't get vulnerable with anyone. Not ever."

Her voice broke harder on the next words, and her shoulders sagged just slightly.

"And honestly… if I'm being honest with you right now? I regret that we've both been on this stupid show since we were sixteen, and only now, three years later, we finally… get here."

Her throat bobbed and she sucked in another breath, her eyes shining now even though no tears fell.

"I can't just… sit back and let you throw this away over whatever's going on in your head that's making you ghost me. Not when this finally—finally—feels like it could be something good for me. For both of us."

And then she stepped just a little closer, her voice dropping low, quiet but trembling with everything she didn't want to say out loud.

"So… with all that said…" she whispered, her jaw tightening.

"…Duncan. What are we?"

She stared at him, searching his face desperately, waiting for anything.

But all he gave her was silence.

His jaw tightened, his hands flexed, but he didn't speak. He didn't move. He just… stood there, staring at her, stunned.

Clearly… he hadn't expected all that.

Heather's voice softened just slightly, though it was still laced with frustration and something rawer beneath it.

"Like… what are you waiting for?" she asked, her words quiet but cutting. "It's not like we need to get to know each other or anything. We've been in each other's lives for three years now. And—what—seven seasons of this stupid show? There's nothing left for us to learn about each other. Nothing stopping us, Duncan."

Her lip trembled, just enough for him to notice.

"So why…" she swallowed hard, "…why wait?"

The words hung in the cool night air between them.

Duncan stayed completely still, his face unreadable, his usual cocky smirk nowhere to be seen. His knife, still clutched loosely in his hand, stayed at his side. He stared at her for several long, suffocating seconds, his brows knitting slightly as though he couldn't quite form the words.

Then, without saying anything, he finally stepped toward her.

Heather's breath hitched when he reached out and took her hands in his, his rough fingers sliding through hers, interlocking them. His thumb unconsciously brushed over her knuckle.

His eyes met hers, and this time… they weren't guarded. They were just scared. Honest.

"I just…" he started, his voice lower than usual, hoarse. "…I guess I really didn't expect us to get to this point."

Her jaw slackened slightly, her lips parting.

"My heart—" Duncan went on, his hands gripping hers just a little tighter, "—my heart… I know it wants this. I know it wants you. But… the rest of me is still trying to process how fast this happened, you know? One second, it was just us messing around, and the next… it started feeling real. And I…"

He paused, shaking his head slightly, his lip curling almost self-mockingly.

"…and it's also… my reputation," he admitted at last, and his voice cracked just faintly on the word. "You know… how I had Courtney. Then Gwen. Now…" He glanced down, breaking eye contact, his voice dropping almost to a whisper. "…I just… I didn't want the whole team calling me some player. Or some fucking… man-whore. Didn't wanna be the guy who burned through three girlfriends on the same damn show."

Heather's jaw clenched at the mention of Courtney and Gwen, but she stayed quiet, watching him.

"There was just… so much to risk," he murmured, finally lifting his eyes back to hers. "And… despite all that… I wanted us to work. I just… there were so many.. bad what-ifs…"

Heather let out a shaky breath and, after a long moment, stepped in just a little closer, her fingers squeezing his.

"But we can get through all of it," she said quietly, but with conviction. "Together. If you have me… you know it'll be us until the end."

She hesitated, her throat bobbing, but her gaze didn't waver.

"And honestly, Duncan…" she went on, her voice tightening slightly, "…Gwen and Courtney… even back in the early seasons—before I even saw you the way I do now—I neverthought either of them were good for you."

Duncan blinked at that, a faint flash of surprise crossing his face.

Heather took another breath, her lip trembling faintly.

"They don't matter anymore," she finished, her voice softer now. "Just… focus on us. But it all depends on if you're ready. If you're not… that's okay. I'll back off until you are."

Her eyes searched his one more time, her voice almost a whisper now as she pressed the final words into the silence.

"…But if you are… what are we waiting for?"

Heather's grip on his hands tightened a little, her eyes blazing through the cracks in her composure as her voice sharpened with a mix of frustration and conviction.

"Back in Total Drama Island, Duncan—" she started, her tone low but firm, "—everyone knew it. The fans knew it. Probably even some of the losers back at Playa des Losers knew it."

Her lip curled into something between a smirk and a sneer, though her hands trembled faintly in his.

"They all knew that if you and I ever actually teamed up, Duncan? We'd destroy the game. Wipe the floor with everyone else. No question. Because together… we're—" she faltered, rolling her eyes at herself but pressing on, "—we're like this stupid, really gay-sounding but actually terrifyingly powerful duo. The kind of pair you don't bet against. Ever."

Duncan's breath caught faintly at her words, but she kept going, her voice gaining more heat with every sentence.

"And you know what?" she added, a faint, uncharacteristic crack in her voice. "We start dating? Imagine how unstoppable we'd be then. A real team. No distractions. Just… you and me against everyone else. Against this whole damn island."

Her eyes glimmered faintly as she leaned just a little closer, her voice dropping low but still full of that characteristic fire.

"We'd take home the money. Without a doubt."

She stopped there, her chest rising and falling as her words finally hung in the air, waiting for him to respond.

Duncan's smirk faded a little, his brows drawing together as he stared at her. His voice was low, almost skeptical.

"Now it just seems like…" He let out a dry laugh, though there was no humor in it. "…you only want this relationship so we can team up, knock everyone else out, and take home the money. That what this is about?"

Heather's eyes widened in outrage. She took a sharp step back, her cheeks flushing.

"No—no! That's not the case, Duncan, I…" she trailed off, then groaned and threw her hands up in frustration. "Ugh, feelings are so sappy. How do people do this lame shit?"

That earned her a faint chuckle from him despite the tension. He leaned casually against the tree, folding his arms.

"Heh. You're telling me."

Heather whirled on him, glaring, though her lip quivered like she was fighting something inside.

"I…" she started, then groaned again. "I l…fff—FUCK." She buried her face in her hands and turned away, muttering. "Ugh, this is so stupid…"

Duncan tilted his head at her, his smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite himself.

"Trouble, Princess?" he teased gently, though his voice held just a hint of curiosity.

Heather's shoulders stiffened, and she whipped around to face him. Her eyes were glassy now, but she glared through them, her jaw tight as she spat it out.

"I love you, Duncan."

Duncan blinked, startled.

"There. I said it," she snapped, her voice cracking despite her attempt to stay sharp. "I love you. I've just… never said that before. Sorry if it's not all soft and romantic or whatever, but I really do. I love you, Duncan… and… I want you."

Her words hung heavy between them, her breathing uneven as she finally went quiet.

Duncan stood there, stunned, his knife-hand lowering to his side as he stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time. The silence stretched on for a few moments, broken only by the faint wind through the trees.

Then, finally, he smirked faintly—not his usual cocky smirk, but something smaller, softer.

"Okay," he said, stepping closer to her and meeting her eyes. "…Let's do it. Let's get together."

Heather's breath hitched, and for the first time in… maybe ever, she let a small, genuine smile slip through her carefully guarded exterior. Heather's sharp edges softened entirely as she looked up at him, eyes brighter than anyone had probably ever seen.

"Really?" she murmured, a smile tugging at her lips — but this time, not the usual smirk or sneer. A real smile.

Duncan grinned back, a little crooked but just as sincere. "Yeah. Screw the team. Once these stupid contracts run out, we'll never have to see them again anyway."

Heather gave a breathless little laugh at that, almost rolling her eyes but still beaming. "Hah. Yeah. At least until… y'know, if something else comes up."

Duncan cocked a brow, just slightly intrigued at her choice of words. But she breezed right past it.

"Hey," she said after a beat, as the two started down the path back to camp. "Remember that kiss we had to do for the horror film challenge back in Total Drama Action?"

Duncan barked out a low laugh. "Oh yeah. You were so disgusted."

"Of course I was, you pig," she shot back, but this time with no venom at all — only that rare, radiant smile.

They walked a few more steps in silence, side by side, Duncan occasionally tossing his knife into the air and catching it, while Heather just… glowed, in a way no one would believe if they saw it.

Duncan glanced at her and, for the first time in longer than he could remember, really smiled.

Heather met his gaze — and smiled right back.

Then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, she reached out, grabbed his shirt collar, and kissed him.

It wasn't rushed or awkward or anything like that.. it was perfect. And it just… was.

When they finally pulled back, Heather was still smirking, though her cheeks betrayed the faintest hint of pink.

"You still taste like street," she murmured, echoing what she'd said after their forced kiss back in TDA.

Duncan chuckled. "Oh, whatever."

Heather shook her head, looking down for a second before glancing back up. "And that felt… really stupid," she added, though her smile betrayed her completely. "I'm just kidding. I… I loved it."

"Me too," Duncan said softly, still grinning like a fool.

Hand in hand, the two of them walked back toward the cabin, talking low and laughing here and there as the moonlight glinted off the trail.

Confessional: Heather

The Underdogs

Heather sits in the booth, looking… uncharacteristically soft at first, a faint smile curling on her lips.

"I got a boyfriend…" she says quietly, almost like she's savoring the words. There's a dreamy glint in her eyes for all of half a second — then it hardens. Her brow furrows, her smile fades.

"And if anyone tries to vote him off or mess with him…" she leans forward, her eyes narrowing into cold daggers.

"…there will be very serious consequences. Just putting that out there now. So. Tread carefully, people."

She sits back, crossing her arms and tilting her head, her calculating glare softening just a touch into mild irritation.

"Now. Who does go home, I wonder…" She taps her fingers on her bicep, her voice going sharper. "I'm seriously getting tired of Noah. Like… who isn't at this point? That little twerp never has anything positive to say, ever. Sorry, Mr. Negative Nancy, I didn't mean to piss in your coffee this morning. Ugh. And what's worse? He's been like this since the first season. Like, THREE. YEARS. of this. It was so awful especially in Season 1.."

Flashback To Seaason 1:

Total Drama Island, Episode 5: Dodgebrawl.

Chris: If you catch the ball, the thrower gets sent out and the catcher gets to bring in another team member out on the court.

Noah (deadpan): Throwing balls. Gee, another mentally challenging test.

Heather (snapping): Who wants to sit the first one out with Sleeping Beauty here?

(Camera pans to Duncan snoring on the bleachers.)

Noah (raising his hand lazily): Oh, all right. I'll volunteer. Now let's see all you keeners get on out there and dodge!

Heather (rolling her eyes): I'm glad someone is trying today.

Noah (unenthusiastic): Oh, sorry. Woohoo! Way to throw those murder balls. Go, team, go.

Heather (sarcastically): Nice team spirit.

Noah (not looking up from his book): Sports. Not my forte, remember?

Heather: You know you could actually give it a shot and pretend to care?

Noah: Knock 'em out, throw 'em out, rah rah— OW! He said, getting hit with a dodgeball.

CUT BACK TO PRESENT:

Heather leans her chin in her palm, shaking her head slightly, the faintest grin curling on her lips.

"Soooo yeah. Putting up with three solid years of Noah's snarky, useless sarcasm? Kinda losing my patience over here. Sorry, not sorry. I think it's about time my Sleeping Beauty gets himself voted back into hibernation."

She gives the camera a quick wink.

Confessional: Noah

The Underdogs

Noah sits back in the booth, legs crossed, arms behind his head, looking as bored as ever.

"Ah. Yet another day of playing the game while also trying not to lose my will to live." He yawns.

"So who's on the chopping block tonight? Honestly… it's tough. Everyone's been pulling their weight lately, more or less. Except for one person who nearly got electrocuted because he couldn't solve a four-piece puzzle."

He glances at the camera knowingly, a faint smirk curling his lips.

"Look, no offense to Duncan — okay, some offense — but I'd rather not have my whole team short-circuiting and smelling like burnt leather next round. I don't have enough brain cells left to clean up that mess."

He pauses and sighs, pretending to think deeply for dramatic effect.

"…but then again… Bridgette has been kinda shaky on challenges too. Ooh. Plot twist. Didn't see that one coming, did you?" He shrugs.

"Guess we'll see how I'm feeling when I grab that pen. Keep the drama alive, I say."

Confessional: Zoey

The Underdogs

Zoey sits in the booth looking genuinely conflicted, hands clasped tightly in her lap.

"Ughhh… I hate voting people off. Everyone's actually trying this season, and we've been doing so well as a team! But…" She bites her lip, glancing at the camera nervously.

"…someone's really been kind of dragging lately. Duncan. Like, I get it, he's… Duncan, but he's been… distracted? And getting into it with Courtney again, and now whatever's going on with Heather, and… yeah." She rubs her forehead, visibly stressed.

"But still, he's strong in challenges. And… I don't know, he doesn't deserve to go yet. Ugh. I hate this part of the game so much. It just feels wrong no matter who you pick…"

Confessional: Owen

The Underdogs

Owen sits in the booth, looking unusually serious at first… but quickly lightens up.

"Alright, team spirit time!" he says, pumping his fists. Then he frowns slightly, his voice dropping.

"…But seriously, tonight's vote? Kinda tricky. Everyone's awesome. Even Duncan, even if he's been kind of… broody lately. I mean, sure, he maybe zapped himself, but who hasn'tzapped themselves once or twice, am I right?" He chuckles.

"But if we're talking team chemistry? Courtney and Duncan fighting every other day? Heather being… Heather? It's not good for morale, dudes. But at least Heather's been pulling her weight big time. So… I dunno. Duncan's cool, but…"

He trails off, staring at the floor. Then he grins at the camera, back to his usual self.

"But hey, no matter what happens, I hope whoever goes out tonight does it with a big smile! And then maybe comes back as a zombie or something. Now that'd be awesome!"

Confessional: Courtney

The Underdogs

"Duncan. One thousand percent. Not even a question. I've voted for him every single time we've lost a challenge since he screamed at me just for trying to make amends. And you know what? I don't regret it for a second."

She uncrosses her arms and starts jotting something down on the clipboard before continuing, her tone growing sharper.

"The way he talks to people — to me — it's completely unacceptable. He thinks he can just stomp around, throw his little bad-boy temper tantrums, and everyone's supposed to just… excuse it because 'oh, it's Duncan, he's edgy.' No. Not me. Not anymore."

She leans forward, her voice dropping to a smug, clipped whisper, almost savoring the words.

"I don't care how good he is at sabotaging other teams or how many points he scores for us. He's toxic. He drags the team down with his attitude, and quite frankly? The longer he stays here, the worse it gets. It's only a matter of time before he blows up again and costs all of us our shot at two million DOLLARS. So…"

She taps her pen against her clipboard with a sharp click and smirks.

"…Tonight's just business. Duncan's a liability. And he's going exactly where he belongs: on the Boat of Losers."

Courtney leans back and folds her arms again, her smirk lingering for just a beat before she rolls her eyes and mutters:

"Honestly, he should thank me for putting him out of his misery."

Confessional: Gwen

The Underdogs

Gwen sits cross-legged in the booth, arms resting on her knees, looking thoughtful but calm.

"Duncan was… great today. Really. And honestly? I guess I'm just really happy we're past all the beef and the drama from after our breakup in All-Stars. Like, it feels… good. Just working with him, no 'oh no, it's my ex' tension or silent glares. None of that. He's really chill now, too — which is kind of a surprise. But it's a good surprise. So yeah, that's a plus."

She sighs, twirling a strand of her black and teal hair between her fingers, her expression shifting slightly.

"But… truthfully? I'm voting for Heather tonight. It's nothing personal. Okay—maybe it is. But hear me out: her whole… obvious crush on Duncan? It's like a car crash waiting to happen. He's been giving her the cold shoulder all challenge, and you can already see the cracks starting to show in her whole 'I'm-in-control' persona. If she spirals — and she will — she's gonna drag the rest of us down with her. And frankly our team is already doing shit when it comes to losing players. So yeah no. And honestly.."

Gwen leans in, her voice dropping into something just shy of a deadpan.

"She's becoming that same old, bitchy, manipulative Heather we all suffered through in Season 1. And I thought — for a second — that she'd matured since then. Guess I was wrong."

She shrugs, her lips pulling into the faintest smirk.

"So yeah. Heather's my vote. Hope she packs light."

Confessional: Bridgette

The Underdogs

"Honestly? I'm voting for Noah tonight. Don't get me wrong, he's funny… sometimes. But… it's, like, every single goddamn challenge he's just standing there with his snarky little comments, like that's helping anyone."

She sits up a little straighter, her voice gaining a little more conviction as she goes on.

"Ever since Season 1 he's been like this. Always sitting on the sidelines, criticizing everyone else, but never actually doing anything useful. I mean, fine, if that's your thing, whatever—do you, but not when we're all trying to win two million fucking dollars. His dead weight and 'too cool to care' act? It's holding the team back. And right now? We really, really can't afford to be held back."

Bridgette's brow furrows slightly and she shakes her head.

"So yeah. Sorry, Noah. But I think it's time you finally surfed your way outta here."

The campers gathered around the campfire under the eerie glow of tiki torches, the tension palpable. Heather sat confidently with her arms crossed, positioned right next to Duncan, who leaned back lazily with his usual cocky smirk, pretending he didn't care—but there was a faint tightness in his jaw. Everyone else sat on the log benches in silence, waiting to hear their fate.

Chris strolled out from behind the fire pit, holding the plate stacked with marshmallows. His smile was extra cruel tonight.

"Alright, Underdogs… you know the drill. Thirteen of you came in here tonight… and only twelve of you are leaving with a marshmallow. The person who doesn't get one?" He leaned forward, lowering his sunglasses dramatically. "Well, they take the long, sad walk to the Boat of Losers and straight outta here."

Chris began tossing marshmallows one by one, dragging out each name with relish.

"First up… Heather."

Heather caught her marshmallow without flinching, popping it in her mouth with a smug look, glancing at Duncan like she knew neither of them was going anywhere.

"Next… Zoey."

Zoey let out a tiny sigh of relief, smiling softly as she caught hers.

"Gwen."

Gwen merely arched a brow and caught her marshmallow, leaning back against the log and avoiding Heather's glance.

"Owen!"

"WOO-HOO! Haha! Big man still in the game, baby!" Owen cheered, nearly falling off his bench as he shoved the marshmallow in his mouth whole.

"Courtney."

Courtney caught hers primly, sniffing as she glared daggers at Duncan.

"Jasmine."

"Cheers," Jasmine said simply, catching her marshmallow with one hand.

"Anne Maria."

Anne Maria flipped her hair and grinned. "Knew ya couldn't get rid'a me yet," she said, snapping up her marshmallow.

"Trent."

Trent smiled coolly, plucking the marshmallow from the air without a word.

"Leshawna."

"You better believe it!" Leshawna said confidently, grabbing hers and popping it in her mouth with a wink to the camera.

"Bridgette."

Bridgette smiled warmly while catching her marshmallow.

"Dakota."

"Fabulous," Dakota said, blowing a kiss toward Chris as she caught hers.

Chris glanced at the two remaining contestants who were marshmallow-less: Noah… and Duncan.

The camera panned to Heather's face—she was starting to look a little less confident now, her brows knitting together as she stared at the two of them.

Duncan finally sat forward, his smirk fading, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at Chris with thinly veiled irritation.

Chris held up the final marshmallow dramatically.

"Final marshmallow of the night… goes to…"

The camera cut to Heather biting her lip, Gwen raising a brow in mild surprise, Courtney grinning smugly.

"…Noah."

Noah's eyes widened slightly, and he shrugged, catching the marshmallow before deadpanning, "Guess I'm still your dead weight."

Heather shot to her feet, and Duncan's head snapped up.

"WHAT?!"

They both said it in perfect unison.

Chris grinned devilishly. "That's right, Duncan. Your time here is done."

Courtney cackled from her bench. "Too bad, Dunc! See you later! Not!"

Her laugh was loud and grating, echoing through the camp. Everyone—literally everyone—turned their heads to look at her with varying degrees of disgust, annoyance, and confusion. Heather glared at her with pure venom, Gwen raised her brow unimpressed, Leshawna gave a disgusted "Mm-mm", even Owen paused mid-chew.

Courtney blinked at everyone staring at her.

"…sorry," she mumbled, crossing her arms and sitting back down.

Heather turned back toward Duncan, but he was already standing, his jaw clenched as he slung his bag over his shoulder. He didn't even look at her as he muttered bitterly, "Whatever. Good luck with that team."

Heather stood there, frozen for a beat, gripping her own marshmallow so tightly it squished in her palm.

Duncan glared at the rest of the team, shaking his head.

Chris, as always, was there to twist the knife: "Well, Duncan… guess this redemption arc got derailed."

Duncan shot him a glare. "Eat dirt, McLean."

As Duncan reached the dock, Chris casually leaned on the railing, smirking toward the boat waiting below.

"All aboard the Boat of Losers, tough guy," Chris called mockingly.

Duncan just rolled his eyes and started walking, hands shoved in his pockets, his knife glinting faintly as it dangled from his belt.

Behind him, Heather froze in her seat.

"Duncan… wait!"

Her voice cracked just enough to make him stop in his tracks. Slowly, he glanced back over his shoulder.

Heather was standing now, her arms stiff at her sides, her chest heaving slightly as though she was trying to hold it all together. The fire pit crackled behind her, casting an amber glow on her flushed cheeks.

He turned fully toward her.

"Heather…" he said quietly.

But she was already marching toward him, her heels digging into the gravel with angry precision, though her trembling hands betrayed her.

"You can't just leave," she said, her voice rising despite her effort to control it. "Not when we… when we literally just started."

Duncan's expression softened, his smirk fading into something heavier, sadder.

"Babe… I'd stay if I could. You know that. But… that's the game. There's nothing I can do."

Heather stopped just a few feet away from him now, her lip trembling as she glared up at him.

"That's bullshit and you know it," she hissed, her voice thick, though no tears fell yet. "I—God—" She clenched her fists and turned briefly, her hair whipping behind her before she whipped back around. "I'm going to kill whoever voted for you tonight. Do you hear me? Whoever thought they could do this to you?They're dead. Every last one of them."

Her voice cracked again, and she buried her face in her hands for a fleeting second before Duncan stepped forward and grabbed her wrists gently, pulling her into a hug.

"Hey… hey. Stop," he murmured into her hair, his thumb brushing along her back as she clung to his shirt. "You gotta calm down, Princess. You're gonna be fine. You're gonna win this thing. For both of us, okay? You're the baddest girl here. And they're all gonna regret messing with you. You hear me?"

Heather inhaled sharply and stepped back slightly, though she didn't let go of his shirt. She stared up at him with glassy eyes and a hard-set jaw.

"I will," she said firmly. "I promise."

Duncan smirked faintly, tilting his head just enough to press his lips to hers in a slow, grounding kiss.

Heather froze at first, then melted into it, gripping the front of his shirt tightly like she never wanted to let go.

The other Underdogs, seated around the campfire, all started noticing.

"…Oh," Dakota said softly, blinking. "Oh, wow."

"Uh… huh," Bridgette murmured, leaning forward slightly in surprise.

One by one, the rest of the team glanced up awkwardly, exchanging confused and startled looks. Even Gwen blinked and frowned faintly, while Courtney narrowed her eyes but said nothing.

When Duncan and Heather finally broke apart, she still held his shirt for just a second longer before letting go, her eyes narrowing with fiery determination.

"Bye," she whispered, her voice breaking despite herself.

"Later, Princess," Duncan said, stepping onto the boat. He shot her one last grin, though his eyes lingered on her like he wanted to stay. "You got this."

Heather stood there on the dock, watching the boat drift into the foggy darkness, her fists clenching and unclenching. She wiped the corner of her eye roughly with the back of her hand, forcing herself to stay composed.

Then, slowly, she turned back to the campfire.

Her heels scraped across the gravel as she approached, her glare icy, her jaw tight. The rest of the team instinctively stiffened as she walked back into the circle.

"I don't know who it was," she said finally, her voice low and venomous. "But whoever voted for him tonight? You better hope I never find out. Because when I do?"

Her voice cracked slightly, though it only made her seem more dangerous.

"You're next. You better start sleeping with one eye open. And don't think for a second I won't figure it out. I will. WHOEVER THE FUCK IT WAS.. you're done. I PROMISE you that."

The entire team fell silent, the crackle of the campfire the only sound left. Heather's piercing glare swept across each of them in turn, daring someone to speak.

No one did.

She finally turned on her heel and stormed off into the shadows of camp, her footsteps sharp and deliberate.

Her voice drifted faintly back toward the stunned group as she disappeared into the darkness.

"…Pathetic cowards. Every last one of you."

Chris leaned casually against a tree, arms crossed and a smirk spreading across his face.

"Well," he began, voice dripping with his usual smugness, "that's another day of chaos in paradise. At least The Dominators finally got their act together… for the most part. Finally won a challenge. Too bad for Duncan and The Underdogs though—guess bad boys don't always finish first."

He pushed off the tree, strolling closer to the camera, his grin widening.

"So here's the big question: is this new power couple gonna steamroll the competition… or crash and burn before they even get started? Will Heather actually keep her cool long enough to avenge her boy? Or will she implode and take her whole team down with her?"

He straightened up, giving the camera a knowing wink.

"One thing's for sure," he said, flashing his signature grin, "this drama is just heating up. And you're not gonna wanna miss what's coming next… on Total. Drama. Generational Warfare!"