Total Drama Returns

The Cheesebub's Message: Hey people. Long time no see. Sorry for another long wait. Life is busy these days. I will try to make the next update come quicker. I'm feeling confident it will be out fairly soon. In fact, if the next chapter doesn't come out by the end of August, someone can find my address and kill me. Go ahead. Do it. I dare you. Anyways, I hope people still read this fic, because I do work hard on every chapter. Your guys' feedback helps keep me inspired, and I really appreciate it. The more feedback I get, the better the story can be! Now for the guest review responses:

jster1983—Both of those things could very well happen. As long as Gwen's still in Redemption Cabin, don't count her out just yet. Thanks for the review!

Guest—Just gotta wait it out, man. I believe in you. Thanks for the review!

Chris Mclean: Last time, on Total Drama Returns… The campers began the day by learning that the teams were no more- it was now every man/woman/Izzy for themselves! But that was not the only twist I had up my sleeve- oh no. Not in the slightest. Next, I revealed the newest totally-original-not-in-any-way-ripped-off-from-Survivor idea- an immunity idol, hidden somewhere in the forest! If someone finds it and plays it before the vote at the Campfire Ceremony, they become invincible for that night, and get to laugh in the faces of those who voted for them. After a mad scramble involving all of the competitors yielded no success, we then proceeded to witness the most emotional Redemption Cabin duel of the season, as both Jose and Momma DJ made guest appearances as Alejandro and DJ's treasured loved ones. Ultimately, after many exciting twists and turns that sort of didn't make any logical sense and went on for an entire chapter, DJ somehow prevailed, and got to live another day in Redemption Cabin. And by day, I mean minute. Or two. I doubt he lasted much longer than that. Condolences to his family. Especially Momma DJ. (He quickly mouths "call me" to the camera.)

Next, we brought in the rest of the campers' family members- a diverse and interesting bunch full of unique personalities. Oh yeah, and Uncle Dave. Some pairs took the time together to go exploring in the forest and become involved in an exciting adventure that took up waaay to much airtime and didn't really accomplish anything. Thanks for that, you guys. The rest competed in an exciting reward challenge that exposed more than a few cracks in some of the pairs. Lindsay and beautiful mom ultimately won, garnering a relaxing afternoon on a cruise ship. Meanwhile, the rest of the campers competed in an immunity challenge which came to down to pretty much just sitting there and watching as Courtney cruised to the victory-but no! Tyler swooped in at the last second and claimed immunity for himself. This led Courtney's dad to disown her, yada yada boring stuff boring stuff. After Geoff's brother attempted to steal his identity to no avail, it was time to decide who was gonna get to be the merge boot. So how did the vote go down? (He takes a deep breath.) Well…

Damn it, I don't want to do it. It was so f**king complicated. Ugh. There better be a much simpler vote next time, that's all I have to say. (He looks back to the camera.) Uh… see it all right here, on today's spooktacular episode of Total Drama Returns!

(Theme Song Plays)

Day 14 Part 1—Chapter 45: A Nightmare on Loser Street

Night Time

Redemption Cabin

DJ: Okay, DJ… you can do this… there aint nothin' to be afraid of… (He is curled up in a ball on the bed, rocking back and forth. The cabin is dead silent, aside from the sound of the mattress creaking under his shifting weight. DJ shivers, wrapping his blanket around himself.)

DJ: Damn… it's like, 68 degrees in here… Don't we get a heater or something? I'M GONNA FREEZE TO DEATH, PEOPLE! (Suddenly, he hears a thump against the wall.) WHATSTHAT?! (He dives frantically underneath the covers. Slowly, he peeks out, glancing around the room, his eyes bloodshot and filled with tears.) Chris?! Is that you?! Don't screw with me, man! I'm telling you! This aint cool! Can't you see I'm in my most vulnerable hour right now?! (There's no response. DJ swallows nervously.)

DJ: Oh no… it aint Chris… IT AINT CHRIS! (He begins to shake fiercely.) Well, that settles it… I'm gonna die… I'm actually gonna die… I haven't even ever loved a woman… or a man… or… or anyone! I'M GOING TO DIE HAVING NEVER LOVED ANYONE!

Confession Cam

DJ: Let's just say it was a rough first night in the cabin.

End of Confessionals

DJ: WHY ME?! HUH?! (He suddenly slaps himself across the face.) Stop it, DJ! Snap out of it! You're letting your mind get the best of you! (He takes a deep breath.) There aint no monsters hiding in the shadows… or rapists… Heh heh… that's stupid! Yeah! Monsters don't exist… and neither do rapists! They're all just in my imagination! (He nods to himself, grinning confidently now.) I'm a big boy! I can spend a night by myself in a cabin in the middle of the woods on an island far away from all people who could save me if I was attacked, easy! (DJ grins confidently and stands up.)

DJ: I can do this! I CAN DO THIS! HELL YEAH! (Beaming confidently, he turns around to head back to his bed. However, the moment he does, he comes to a complete stop, his eyes widening in horror. There, in front of him and entirely engulfing his vision, is Chris's giant smiling face. DJ stares in horror at the face, not knowing what to do. Finally, he lets out a bloodcurdling scream, and whips back around, before sprinting toward the exit to the cabin. In his panic, DJ doesn't even bother opening the door. Thus, he barrels right through it, leaving a gaping hole in the shape of his body behind him. The brickhouse then races off into the forest, still screaming at the top of his lungs.)

Confession Cam

Chris: Okay, I thought adorning one of the walls of Redemption cabin with a nice, large, handcrafted oil painting of myself would soothe the nerves of the campers. How was I supposed to know it would freak them out instead? That's not something I could have predicted.

DJ: There aint no way I'm spendin' another minute in that cabin. It's haunted, man! HAUNTED! And I'm not about that whole "getting possessed" lifestyle. That's not for me. (He shakes his head.) So I'm out. Now I just need to go find somewhere to crash for the night. It's gotta be somewhere safe, cozy, well-guarded… (Suddenly, his eyes light up.) I know just the place. (He races out of the Confessional.)

End of Confessionals

Chris: WHAT THE F**K ARE YOU DOING IN HERE?! (He stares in shock at DJ, who is resting in Chris's queen-sized bed, underneath the covers.)

DJ: I can explain—(He is cut off as Chris pulls away the covers.)

Chris: Get out! NOW! I can't believe you would even try to… wait a minute. (He stares at DJ, who is wearing purple silk pajamas, decorated with miniature versions of Chris's face.) Are you wearing my PAJAMAS right now?!

DJ: I saw them lying around, and they looked really comfortable! And they totally are, by the—

Chris: I don't care! Now take them off! (He pauses, before cringing.) On second thought, don't do that. I forgot you were a minor. Anyways changing topic. You can't be here. It's against the a little something called the rules. You need to go back to Redemption Cabin, pronto, or I'll have to disqualify you. (DJ immediately bursts into tears.)

DJ: NO! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME GO BACK THERE AGAIN!

Chris: Really? (He pulls out a rifle and aims it at DJ's chest.) Because this says I can.

DJ (frowning): C'mon, man! Do you really gotta pull out the gun just like that? That's so rude.

Chris: I'm rude?! Says the man who broke into my private bedroom and didn't even bring a housewarming gift! Who's really the rude one here? Hint: it's you.

DJ: Okay, fine. What I did was in poor taste. But now that I'm here, can't ya just let me stay?! There's plenty of room for the two of us! I'll even sleep on the floor if I have to!

Chris: And leave your giant body imprint in my custom furnished rug crafted from the nosehairs of a thousand unicorns? Not in this lifetime. Now, I don't want to do this, DJ, but if I have to, I can call security. But I really don't want to have to resort to that. I'd rather we work this whole situation out together, as a team. So to start, I'm getting rid of this gun. I don't think it's promoting a healthy dialogue between the two of us. (With that, he tosses the rifle off to the side. However, the moment it hits the ground, the impact causes it to discharge wildly. DJ ducks just in time as the bullet whizzes over his head and embeds in the wall behind him. He slowly peeks upward, trembling. He then glares over at Chris, who didn't seem to notice.)

DJ: You almost killed me there, man! What the heck?! (Chris shrugs.)

Chris: Accidents happen. We're all human. But look: the gun's out of my hands. (He holds up his hands, smiling.) See? No gun.

DJ (still scowling): Yeah… I see.

Chris: Good. So I was thinking we could have a little chat about what's going on with you. Man-to-man. After all, I know exactly how you're feeling right now.

DJ: Uh… you do?

Chris: I do. You want to know why, DJ? It's because I was once exactly like you. (DJ's eyes widen in horror.)

DJ: You were?

Chris: I was indeed. (He runs his eyes over DJ's face.) You truly look like a young Chris Mclean. The resemblance is uncanny. In fact, sometimes when I see you, I wonder to myself whether you're actually just me from the past, sent on a secret time travel mission to save me from my own inner demons and help me find my true salvation. (He glances at DJ hopefully.) Are you?

DJ: I'm… not.

Chris: Darn. Still, my point stands. I was once exactly like you. I was tall, like you… strong, like you… kind, like you… black, like you…

DJ: Um... I don't think you were ever black, man. (Chris sighs.)

Chris: Don't remind me. Anyways, it appeared that I had it all. And yet, something always held me back, DJ. You know what that was?

DJ: Uh… you were actually not any of those things? (Chris scowls.)

Chris: No! It was fear, DJ. Fear held me back. For so many years, fear kept me from experiencing all the great things that life had to offer. Fear kept me from riding the tallest roller coaster at the amusement park. Fear kept me from tasting new foods when I visited foreign countries as a young man. Fear kept me from asking that special girl I liked out on a date. Fear kept me from trying cocaine. Fear kept me from—

DJ: Wait, dude… that last one isn't a bad thing. Cocaine is horribly addictive drug that can ruin your life!

Chris: How would I know? I never got to try it. (He sighs.) Anyways, the point I'm trying to make is that I see the exact same situation with you. You let your fear get the better of you, DJ. No matter the situation.

DJ: No I don't! That aint true! (He forces a confident grin.) I… I don't even know what fear means!

Chris: Oh really? (He stands up again, and walks back over to the gun resting on the floor. He picks it up, reloads it, points at DJ, and fires. DJ once again has to duck, with the bullet just barely missing him. DJ springs upward again, scowling.)

DJ: Okay, man, what the ****************?! (Chris shakes his head and sighs, before putting the gun down. He walks back over to the bed and sits down again.)

Chris: Case in point, DJ. Just now, you let your fear get the better of you.

DJ: Only because you fired a gun at my head!

Chris: And you ducked. Out of fear.

DJ: No ****! YOU TRIED TO SHOOT ME IN THE HEAD!

Chris: The facts are irrelevant. All I'm trying to say is that there's a world of opportunity knocking on your front door. But you'll never know if you're too scared to open it. Understand? (DJ frowns.)

DJ: But… if opportunity really wanted my attention, don't you think it would ring the doorbell? I'm more likely to hear it that way, especially if I'm like sleeping or something. And also, you'd think he'd know where the outdoor key is.

Chris: Okay, now you're reading way too much into the metaphor.

DJ: I'm just trying to make sense of it, man!

Chris: I'm just trying to help you understand that life is meant to be lived! You need to not let your personal inhibitions hold you back! And that applies to the challenges you face as well. They may seem insurmountable. But you can't run from them. You have to face them head on. (He places a hand on his shoulder.) You've already overcome so much, DJ. Personally, I was certain you'd have died by now out in Redemption Cabin.

DJ: What?!

Chris: But you didn't! But you didn't, DJ. And that shows that you have more strength than I think you even realize. You need to let that strength shine through. I want you to overcome your fear, DJ. Therefore, I want you to be the one to make the walk back to that cabin, out of your own free will.

DJ: I aint gonna even have a free will for much longer if I go back there! There are demons waiting to attack me the moment I walk through the door! I saw one with my own two eyes! (Chris groans, rubbing his temples in impatience.)

Chris: Ughh... I can't believe I have to explain this to you. You didn't actually see a demon in the cabin, okay?! Demons don't exist aside from my mother. It just was a painting of my face. That's it. (He rolls his eyes.) Sorry my pure and unadulterated beauty traumatized you so much. (DJ stares at him in surprise.)

DJ: R-really?

Chris: Yes, really. But we've taken the painting down, all right? It's not there anymore. There's nothing left in that cabin that can scare you.

DJ: You... you sure?

Chris: Yes, I am sure. Now please. Go.

DJ: I... I don't know... I don't think I can... (Chris grabs DJ by his shoulders.)

Chris: Listen to me, DJ. Think for a second. You're a guy who, throughout his entire life, has been told that you can't. You can't do this, you can't do that. (He looks sternly into DJ's eyes.) But I'm telling you that you can. For once in your life, you have someone who will believe in you, no matter what. I won't give up on you.

DJ: No! I refuse! (Chris sighs.)

Chris: Fine. You're a lost cause. See ya. (He snaps his fingers.)

Redemption Cabin

DJ: No, wait! (He screams as he is tossed through the air and lands with a loud thud on the ground in front of Redemption Cabin. The two large security guards who carried him there wipe their hands off, before striding away. DJ lies on the ground for another moment, groaning in pain. Finally, he gathers the strength to stand up, and surveys his surroundings. The forest is now even darker and more foreboding, with not a single sound to be heard. DJ swallows deeply, his knees shaking. He looks around at the foliage, his eyes darting wildly from left to right. Slowly the realization hits him. )

DJ: Oh no… OH NO! (He swivels around, and sees the cabin behind him.) NOOOOOOOOO! I'M BACK TO SQUARE ONE! (He drops to his knees, howling at the sky.) WHY, CHRIS, WHY?! WHY HAVE YOU CONDEMNED ME TO DIE?! (He shivers.) I'm surrounded by death… so many ways I could die right now… I AINT GONNA SURVIVE 'TIL MORNING! (He suddenly slaps himself across the face.) NO, DJ! That aint the right attitude, fool! Staying in Redemption Cabin isn't a death sentence; it's the opportunity of a lifetime! And like Chris said, when opportunity is knocking on your door, you have to be the one to stand up and open it. It's not like opportunity is willing to break into your house to get to you! (He stops, thinking.) But wait… what if opportunity is willing to do that? Because opportunity is actually a serial RAPIST?! (He gasps.) OH NO! I'M DOOMED! OPPORTUNITY IS GONNA RAPE ME AND HE ISN'T EVEN GOING TO USE PROTECTION! (He slaps himself again.)

DJ: You're an idiot, DJ! STOP! (He takes a deep breath.) Calm down. Just go in that cabin and go to sleep. There's nothing to worry about. (He nods with approval.) DJ is right, DJ. You should really listen to him. (He nods again.) Don't worry, DJ. I'll listen to DJ. As long as it's all right with DJ. You good, DJ? (DJ nods.) I'm good, DJ. Thanks for asking, DJ. (With that, he starts to make his way into the cabin. However, the black teenager pauses and stops in his tracks, right before he enters.) Still… a few precautions never hurt. Just to be sure. (He then runs off into the forest.)

Confession Cam

DJ: Chris can say whatever he wants, but I know one thing. Demons DO exist! In fact, my aunt Jennifer had her soul possessed by a demon just last summer, during our annual family vacation. (He pauses.) Or maybe she was just going through a really messy divorce and was taking her out her frustrations on the rest of us. Either way, demons are still real! And I can sense it, man. They're coming for me! So I'm gonna be prepared when they do. My line of thinking is that as long as those demons can't get into the cabin in the first place, they'll have no way of getting into my body! So I plan to add a few extra "fortifications" to the cabin, if you will. When all is said and done, NOBODY will be able to get in, or out. Bank on that, baby! (He pauses, thinking.) I wonder how Jennifer's new husband is. Hopefully better than the last one.

End of Confessionals

Back at Camp…

(Katie arrives at the edge of the forest, where she can see the cabin lights just a few meters away. She quietly places her flashlight inside of a bush. Then she quickly wipes the dirt and sand off of her clothes and checks herself in her handheld mirror. Finally, she makes sure that nobody is nearby, before quickly hurrying out in the direction of the cabin. However, she's only made it a few steps before she suddenly hears a voice behind her.)

Trent: Katie… welcome back. (Katie whips around, and sees Trent leaning against a tree, shrouded in shadows. He steps forward, a large smirk stretching across his face.) I've been expecting you.

Katie: Cool. I hope you weren't expecting me to talk to you. Because that won't be happening. (She starts to walk away, but Trent quickly grabs her shoulder.)

Trent: Oh, I have a feeling that it will be. (Katie slaps his hand away.)

Katie: Don't touch me! (She crosses her arms and scowls at Trent.) And why is that? Why should this instance be any different from any of the other times you try to talk to me without my permission? Why should I not knee you in the ballsack like I usually do?

Trent: Because I know what you did, Katie. (Katie's eyes flash for just a moment, before her face takes on an expression of confusion.)

Katie: I have no idea what you're talking about. (Trent smirk persists.)

Trent: I think you do, Katie. (Katie glances off to the side, looking more nervous now.)

Katie: No I don't! (Trent pulls up closer to her, his smirk replaced with a look of severity.)

Trent: Yes you do. Don't play games with me, Katie. I'm really not in the mood for them. (Katie stares at him for a moment. Then she sighs.)

Katie: Do you really know everything?

Trent: Everything, Katie. I know it all. You thought you could hide it from all of us. But you can't. (He chuckles.) You've been a very naughty girl, Katie. Very naughty indeed. (Katie glares at him.)

Katie: What do you want from me?

Trent: I want you to come with me, Katie. Let's go behind the cabin, where we can have a private discussion regarding the matters at hand.

Katie: I don't feel comfortable doing that.

Trent: I don't care. (He points in the direction of the cabin.) Behind the cabin. Now.

Katie: I said I—

Trent: BEHIND THE CABIN!

Katie: Okay, sheesh! Will you please calm your tits?!

Trent: My tits are quite calm. They're so calm, they're practically in a medically induced coma. I just want to get on with business. I'm a busy man. (He beckons behind the cabin once more.) Shall we proceed? (Katie rolls her eyes.)

Katie: Fine. I guess I'm really not in a position to argue right now.

Trent: No you are not. You have stunning skills of perception. (He then begins leading her away.)

Confession Cam

Katie: I was in complete shock. I couldn't believe that Trent of all people had found me out. TRENT! I thought I had made certain that nobody followed me over to the hole where I left Sadie. I had made sure of it! ! I pepper-sprayed Cody 17 times for God's sake! And yet somehow Trent of all people slipped past my radar?! How?! It raised some serious red flags, right away.

End of Confessionals

(Trent and Katie have now made their way behind the cabins. Trent stands before Katie, his smirk having changed to a seemingly genuine smile. Katie crosses her arms.)

Katie: Are you just going to stand there smiling like an idiot, or are you gonna talk and stop wasting my time? (She glances behind him, frowning.) And what the hell is that thing? (She points to a table with a large dark cloth over it, covering everything.)

Trent: We'll get to that in a minute. First, let's address your little secret. (He chuckles.) As someone who is aware of it, I must say, it truly is a very big secret.

Katie: So which is it? Is it little, or is it very big? You literally just contradicted yourself within a span of three seconds. (Trent scowls.)

Trent: When I called your secret "little", I was being facetious. It was for comedic irony- while the audience already knew that your secret is actually quite big, I still called it little. This is funny if you have a sense of humor, which you apparently don't. Then, when I referred to your secret as "very big", I was being literal, changing my tone from humorous to serious for increased dramatic effect. Both sentences were extremely necessary to fully enrich my dialogue and create a more fulfilling experience for the viewers.

Katie: Or it's because you're a moron. I think I'll go with that.

Trent: A moron who knows that you did something very wrong tonight, Katie. An act so sinful, so truly deplorable, so—

Katie: Can you please quit vaguely describing what I did and just outright say it? (Trent smiles.)

Trent: I see. You want to get right down to it.

Katie: No sh**.

Trent: Please don't use that language. There are young, impressionable children watching this show.

Katie: Trust me, there's exactly 0 chance this segment makes it on air.

Trent: Fair enough. (His smirk returns.) Katie, you thought you had everyone fooled. But I aint no fool. I know the truth. (He walks up closer to her, grinning.) And you can't hide from it any longer. (Katie, despite herself, begins to look a little nervous. Trent stares into her eyes for a moment longer, before slowly speaking, enunciating every syllable.) You never picked up a copy. (Katie stares at him.)

Katie: What?

Trent: You heard me. You're the only person who has yet to receive a copy of my new book! (He holds up a large paper back book. The front cover shows Trent's grinning face. Trent holds up the book and grins, so that his face is matching the cover.) In commemoration of my amazing move at Campfire Ceremony tonight, which led to Gwen's ouster and Geoff's ultimate humiliation, I decided to write a bestselling novel. Well, the "bestselling" part is still in the works, but it's certainly on its way. (He flips through the book.) 400 pages, with supplementary illustrations to boot. It's my latest masterpiece, and I'd love for you to have a copy. What are your thoughts? (Katie continues to stare at him. Finally, she speaks.)

Katie: You've got to be kidding me… so this whole ordeal has been nothing more than your ridiculous, convoluted attempt at a sales pitch?! (Trent quickly cuts her off.)

Trent: No no! You've got me all wrong here, Katie. This is not a sales pitch. Because I'm giving you the book for free. It's my special discount for everyone at camp. But not only that! (He runs over to the table behind him and pulls away the tablecloth. Underneath is a plain plastic table with nothing on it. Katie frowns.)

Katie: It's just a table.

Trent: You're right. It is. I'm using it as a hard surface to write on so that I can personally sign your book for you, free of charge! My autograph will be quite valuable within the next few years. This is a special offer I'm giving only to you, Katie. For being both a great alliance partner and a great friend. (Suddenly, Chef appears in the distance.)

Chef: There's that goddamn table! (He sprints over to the two of them and stops there, breathing heavily.) I've been looking for that thing for hours now! (He jams a finger at Trent.) If you EVER break into my kitchen again, boi Imma shank you in 9 different places.

Trent: Was your choice of 9 just a random number you thought of, or an intentional reference to one my well-known personality quirks?

Chef: I don't know! All I know is that table is MINE! (He scoops it up off the ground, and begins to carry it away. Trent, however, runs over and grabs the other end of it.)

Trent: What do you even need it for?!

Chef: It's not a matter of whether I need it or not! It's a matter of friendship. (Trent frowns.)

Trent: I don't follow.

Chef: This table and I have been together since the very beginning. We're practically inseparable. He was even there with me during the great war of '84. Out on the battlefield, when the enemy started launchin' grenades at us, he let me hide under him for protection. He saved my life out there. I woulda surely been blown up without him.

Trent: I really don't think a plastic table can withstand a—

Chef: SHUT UP! The point is, that table has always had my back. ALWAYS! And I'll always have his. And when he gets taken away to be used against his will, damn it, I'm gonna save him! He may very well be my goddamn best friend.

Trent: That's a beautiful story, Chef, but I must inform you that your best friend is a table. That requires psychiatric attention. Now just put the table down, and go find help. (He tries to tug on the table.)

Chef: NO! I ALREADY SEE A VERY WELL-RESPECTED MENTAL PHYSICIAN THREE TIMES A WEEK! (He pulls harder, yanking Trent across the ground. Trent pulls back, straining with all his might.)

Trent: Well then make it four!

Chef: How bout I make it WHOOP YO ASS?! (Trent frowns.)

Trent: Now that just doesn't make any sense. That's not even a number. Your psychiatrist will have an extremely difficult time booking your appointments for you if you tell her that.

Chef: I'LL BOOK YOU AN APPOINTMENT WITH AN ASS-WHOOPIN' SOON ENOUGH! (He begins pulling again, but Trent somehow manages to hold his ground. Eventually, he even begins to start pulling the table back in his own direction. The guitarist laughs triumphantly.)

Trent: Give it up, old man!

Chef: YOU LET GO RIGHT NOW!

Trent: No way. You're just saying that because you know I've got you beat. (He grins at the camera.) It's all in the calves, people. Follow my strict workout regimen which can be found on my blog, and you'll be seeing the same results in your own day-to-day battles with large angry black men over IKEA furniture items.

Chef: AND WHAT'S WRONG WITH IKEA? THEY GOT THEM GUARANTEED LOW PRICES AND DELICIOUS SWEDISH MEATBALLS! NOW I SAID LET GO! (Trent scoffs.)

Trent: My God, you're acting so desperate. Not a good look for you.

Chef: IF YOU DON'T LET GO, I'LL MAKE YOU LET GO!

Trent: Oh really? And just how will you do that? (Chef shrugs, and lifts the table up off the ground, bringing Trent up with it. Trent frantically clings to the table and glances nervously down at the ground, now ten feet below him. He then glances at Chef, who is glaring right at him with the table hoisted high over his shoulder. Trent chuckles nervously.)

Trent: Wow… heh heh… okay, Chef… very impressive… we can all see the roids have certainly been working, nobody here is denying it… now how about you… heh heh… put me down… heh… PUT ME DOWN!

Chef: Too late. (He then begins turning in circles, swinging the table around and around, with Trent still holding on and flailing his legs frantically. Slowly, Chef begins to increase in speed, accelerating his body's motion, until the table starts to become a blur. Trent screams as he tries to hold on to the table's plastic surface, but eventually its momentum becomes too much, and he loses his grip. His body is then sent hurtling off into the distance, disappearing into the night sky. Chef gently places the table back down on the ground and wipes his hands off. The cook sighs.)

Chef: They never listen, do they? (Katie, who has been standing off to the side watching all this, smiles at him.)

Katie: Thank you, Chef. I was having a bad night, and that was exactly what I needed to cheer me up. (Chef glances over at her, before crossing his arms and turning away in a huff. Katie chuckles.) Oh, come on now, Chef. You're still bitter about my refusal to join that stupid alliance of yours? (Chef whips around to face her.)

Chef: NO! NO I AM NOT, BITCH! THANK YOU FOR ASKING!

Katie: That somehow makes me feel that you are.

Chef: Well I'm not! You wanna know why?

Katie: Not really.

Chef: Well, it's 'cause I've got new alliance in the works that is gonna blow your goddamn socks off.

Katie: But I'm wearing flip-flops.

Chef: Well, then my alliance is gonna make some goddamn socks appear on your feet, before blowin' them off! You gonna wish you'd never let me go when we take this damn game for ourselves.

Katie: Oh really? And who's in the alliance? (Chef shrugs.)

Chef: Oh, only some of the most brilliant strategists in the whole game. Other than that, nobody major. (He scowls.) Now why am I even still talkin' to you?! Me and my alliance which doesn't include YOU, we got strategic plans and sh** to discuss! Without YOU! (He then violently grabs the table and storms away with it. Katie shrugs, and starts filing her nails. A few minutes later, Trent appears at the edge of the forest, dragging himself through the dirt, branches sticking out of his hair, all the while moaning in pain. Katie watches as he slowly pulls himself up to her, before collapsing.)

Trent: Ow… (He slowly raises his head and looks up at her, his eyes just barely open.) Katie… is that you? Did I… did I win? Is… is the table finally mine?

Katie: I don't know how you could possibly believe that. (Trent shrugs.)

Trent: I mean, it was a pretty even fight… I thought there was a 50/50 chance I had won.

Katie: Even? You just got your ass completely and thoroughly handed to you. (Trent shakes his head.)

Trent: No way. You're crazy. You and I obviously weren't watching the same fight. Nothing was handed to me. Certainly not my ass. If anything, I seized my own ass for the taking with gusto and flourish.

Katie: Okay, that just sounds so wrong on so many levels.

Trent: Yeah, I sorta realized that the moment it left my mouth. (There's silence for a long time.)

Katie: Well, this has been a blast. (She starts to walk away, but Trent grabs her ankle.)

Trent: Wait! You never took your copy of my book.

Katie: Yes. And I'd like to keep it that way. (She tries to shake off his hand, but Trent's grip tightens.)

Trent: C'mon, Katie! Don't be like that. I worked really hard on it.

Katie: Really? As far as I can tell, you just wrote the whole thing in three hours. (She tries to step forward with her other foot, but Trent grabs that ankle as well.)

Trent: So? They were the three hardest and most painful hours of my entire life! I typed so fast that I nearly had a stroke. Once I was done, my fingers were throbbing with indescribable pain. Luckily, I was able to give them a soothing ice bath in the Confessional's toilet afterward.

Katie: Ew! Then get your hands off of me!

Trent: Just take the book, and I'll let go!

Katie: No! I'm not interested!

Trent: Just read the first sentence. You'll be hooked instantly! I know I was.

Katie: I said I'm not taking your book!

Trent: Fine. You wanna negotiate? I'm down to strike a deal. If you take the book, I'll throw in a free bookmark with a picture of me on it.

Katie: Why in the world would I want that?! No!

Trent: Fine. Two bookmarks with a picture of me on it! No wait, three bookmarks with a picture of me on it! Howsa 'bout that?

Katie: NO!

Trent: Fine! Then how about I throw in a pen? You can use it to annotate the enlightening literary devices and motifs that you find throughout and discuss how they relate to the overall themes of the novel.

Katie: I said I'M NOT INTERESTED!

Trent: Two pens! And another bookmark! And—(Suddenly, Katie whips around, shaking with anger. She reaches down and grabs Trent by the collar, before roughly pulling him upward, so that his face is in front of hers. Trent grins.) Ha! I knew the 4th bookmark would catch your interest.

Katie (through gritted teeth): I want you to listen very closely. There are a lot of things you should be doing right now. Believe it or not, THIS is not one of them. I want you to stop and really think about the move you made tonight. Think about what it shows about you to the other players.

Trent: …That I'm a legendary specimen of a man, partially a result of my massive genitalia?

Katie: No! Don't you get it? I don't know if you're aware, but you just ruthlessly stabbed Geoff in the back in front of everyone. That only shows people that you're an untrustworthy and dangerous person to align with. And I don't know about you, but that is NOT a reputation I would want to have moving forward, especially with this much game left to go. Any reasonably minded person in your situation realizes that they need to do some serious damage control; they need to try to make the situation seem like much less than it actually is. They want to make everyone just forget all about it. You, on the other hand, have done the exact opposite. You've done NOTHING but talk about that f**king move since it happened, as if it's somehow won you the game when there are still 11 people left. You've FORCED people to constantly think about it. You're literally beating everyone over the head with the fact that "Hey, I'm an asshole who values the merit of trust less than that of my own feces." Like, seriously. What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to see how badly your entire game can crash and burn in 24 hours? Because you're doing a stellar job of it. (Trent stares at her, shocked.)

Trent: I… (His lower lip trembles.) I didn't…

Katie: Think? Correct. You did not. You haven't thought in a long time, as far as I can tell. Everyone knows you don't celebrate the touchdown until you've actually scored it. And you, Trent, are nowhere near a touchdown. You're at about the 10-yard-line right now. (Trent beams.)

Trent: Hey, that's actually not that bad! That's only 10 more yards to—

Katie: Of your own end zone. And the other team has the ball. (Trent shrugs, still smiling.)

Trent: Whatever. I can deal with a little adversi—

Katie: And you have no viable defenders to stop them. And the whole stadium is rooting against you, booing so loudly that you can't even communicate with your remaining teammates. And you just broke both your legs and are collapsed on the field with a concussion, convulsing and choking on your own vomit as everyone laughs. And you can't afford an ambulance, or even a stretcher to carry you away. And it's all being broadcast across the country. (Trent stops smiling. Tyler suddenly appears next to Katie, grinning.)

Tyler: Dayum! Now that was a sick sportz metaphor. I love sportz! Sportz FTW! SPORTZ! WOOHOO! (Katie turns to him.)

Katie: If I wanted you to randomly materialize next to me and start talking like a disturbing amalgamation of tumblr, ESPN, and severe head trauma, I would have asked. (She shoves him away. She turns back to Trent.) All I'm trying to say is, you need to chill out with all the self-worship. You're a long, LONG way from the 100 grand. Got it? (Trent slowly nods.) Good. Second, don't you EVER bring up my name like that at the Campfire Ceremony again. Even if it's just as a decoy. You hear me?! You can't just pull something like that against someone in your own alliance!

Trent: But… isn't that exactly what you did? Everyone was initially voting for you, but then you brought up my name instead and switched it all around so that you would be safe and I'd be in trouble.

Katie: Yeah, but we all agreed to that as part of the plan! You knew beforehand that I was going to do that! (Trent crosses his arms.)

Trent: Was it part of the plan for Noah and Cody to suddenly flip, and then for you to not even care that I was set to go home, and start calmly giving yourself a manicure while I freaked the f**k out and nearly pissed my pants? (Katie scowls.)

Katie: Don't worry, Trent. I have plenty of beef to settle with those two. But right now, we're talking about what you did wrong tonight. Sure, you have every right to do what you can to save yourself in that situation. EXCEPT BRING UP MY NAME. You could have offered anyone else to Geoff as an alternative! Ezekiel, for instance! He sucks. He smells sort of bad. I'm sure people would've been down.

Trent: But I just wanted to make sure that—

Katie: I don't want to hear it! If you plan to stay in this alliance with me, you play by my rules. And seeing as nobody else wants anything to do with you, I don't think you can afford to get kicked to the curb. So when I tell you to do something, you DO IT. No questions asked. Don't EVER bring up my name like that again. (She leans in closer.) Or it'll be bad news for both you and your ability to have a functioning urinary tract. (Trent cringes in fear.)

Trent: Geez, Katie, this is all a little… intense, y'know? Even for you. Is it that time of the month or something?

Katie: It might be. It might not be. You might want to not ask questions like that again if you value your life.

Trent (muttering under his breath): Definitely that time of the month. (Luckily for him, Katie does not hear this.)

Katie: So, let's quickly address the task that I'm assigning you as head of the alliance… I want you to think long and hard tonight. And the rule I'm putting in place is that you can't go to sleep until you've figured out how not to be prick. My suggestion is to start with weighing the idea of not talking. Ever. For you, it has its merits. Understood?

Trent: I guess. (There's silence.) So… now do you finally wanna pick up that copy of my book? My offer still stands. (He holds up his book, hope in his eyes. Katie looks at him for a moment, before snatching it out of his hands.)

Katie: You know what? Fine. I'll take it. Only so I can do the honor of incinerating it page-by-page so nobody ever makes the mistake of reading it. I think that's better than just throwing it away like everyone else has. Maybe a little more eco-friendly. (With that, she walks away, leaving Trent standing there.)

Confession Cam

Trent: Looks like Trent has got another satisfied customer under his belt! (He laughs proudly. He sits there for a moment. Then he starts to cry.)

Katie: Obviously, I'm a bit on edge about the whole Sadie situation. So maybe I'm just a little moodier than I usually am. That being said, I'm still very annoyed with Trent. He could have easily caused my demise tonight with that stunt he pulled. Plus, his insufferable personality lately has completely repelled all possible new alliance members, and that can't happen for much longer if I want to have any chance in this game. But truth be told, compared to some other people, he's seeming like a pretty decent guy right now. Cody, for example, is entirely in for it. Disobeying my orders so blatantly… tomorrow will not be fun for him. Still, I don't hate him nearly as much as I hate another person right now. That person… well, let's just say that person is gone next. No matter what. Whether it's by the vote, or by me personally putting a bullet right square in his stupid little smirk.

End of Confessionals

Cabin (Girls' Side)

(The camera zooms in on Noah, who is sitting on a bed, reading a book and smirking to himself. He pauses for a second, frowning, before he glances up at the camera.)

Noah: Uh… dude? Can I help you? (The cameraman standing two feet in front of him shakes his head, before quickly grabbing his equipment and scurrying out the door.) All right. No need to explain how you got in here. All good. (He turns to Bridgette and Courtney, who are standing over by the window.) I don't know about you guys, but I really hope that man works for the show. (Courtney and Bridgette, however, are too busy talking between themselves to listen to him. Noah shrugs, and goes back to reading. Bridgette, meanwhile, is staring down with concern at the large roll of paper Courtney has in her hands.)

Bridgette: Courtney, I really don't think this is the best way of—

Courtney: Nonsense. I've had years of experience with presentations as a C.I.T. This format always worked the best with the 12-year-olds. So why shouldn't it work with you guys? And I think that after the results of tonight, it's crucial that we focus on organization in our alliance, however temporary it may be. So please, Bridgette, sit down. (She gestures to a bed. Bridgette sighs, and walks over to sit down on the mattress. Courtney then clears her throat.)

Courtney: Attention, everyone! I want all eyes up here. Is everyone listening? (Noah looks up from his book.)

Noah: All two of us, yes. (Courtney nods.)

Courtney: Good. (Suddenly, she frowns.) No, wait… that can't be right. We're missing someone. (She looks around.) Where's Geoff? (She turns to Noah.) Noah? (Noah shrugs.)

Noah: Beats me. (Courtney crosses her arms.)

Courtney: Well, it was your job to find him!

Noah: Well, I didn't.

Courtney: Did you even try?

Noah: Of course I did. I walked over to the bathrooms and I looked in there. Then I walked back here. (Courtney stares at him.)

Courtney: That's it?

Noah: Hey, I got a leg cramp. I needed to ice it.

Courtney: Really? Then where's the ice pack?

Noah: Nowhere. I just lied directly to your face for no real reason. (He then goes back to reading his book. Courtney rolls her eyes.)

Courtney: Oh, wow. Let me be the first to say Happy 12th Birthday, Noah. (She scowls.) How about you tell me what ELSE you've been lying about, huh? You know what? I bet you found Geoff, and you're just not telling us! Just because you want to ruin everything! You just thrive off making everyone else look like an idiot, huh? Just to prop yourself up a little higher? Well, I'm not about to—

Bridgette: Can we just chill out here, Courtney? Look, it's true; Noah should be taking things a little more seriously right now. But he's right- Geoff is literally nowhere to be seen. I've been looking for a while now. But as far as I can tell, he essentially disappeared into thin air after the Campfire Ceremony. (She sighs.) He was obviously very upset. I think he just needed some alone time.

Courtney: Well, we'll have to proceed without him. But when one of you do see Geoff, can you relay the information I give you guys back to him? (Noah turns and nods at Bridgette.)

Noah: You're on it, blondie.

Bridgette: Fine. I have no problem with that.

Noah: Cool. Just make sure nothing gets lost in translation like last time.

Bridgette: Listen, how many times do I have to apologize to you about tonight?! I know it was stupid to just go along with what Geoff told me, especially last minute at the Campfire Ceremony. But he just seemed so certain in that moment, you know? Like he knew with 100 percent certainty that the plan to switch the vote back to Katie was going to work. So can you guys please forgive me?

Noah: Oh, I'm not angry. But just a word of advice, sister: the more certain Geoff is, the more deeply concerned you should be. Keep that in mind from now on. (Bridgette crosses her arms.)

Bridgette: Whatever. (Courtney nods.)

Courtney: All right, now that that's all been cleared out of the way, let's get on with business. I don't want to keep you guys too long. So I've prepared a small, informal presentation analyzing exactly what went wrong for us last night and proposing conjectures on how we should proceed in the future so as to not to make the same mistakes again. (She reaches behind her back and pulls out the large roll of paper. She unfurls it, revealing a massive list filled with numbers, graphs, and charts. She then places it on the windowsill in front of them.)

Noah (staring at the poster): Oh boy. (Courtney places her hands on her hips.)

Courtney: It's not as complicated as it looks, Noah. I just ran a few statistics.

Noah: Of what? Every event ever in humankind's existence?'

Bridgette: Courtney, this does seem a bit… excessive.

Courtney: Excessive?! This is practically the bare minimum!

Noah: Needed to do what? Put me into coma?

Courtney: No! To ensure our success at the next Campfire Ceremony! (Bridgette sighs.)

Bridgette: Look, we really appreciate you going to all this trouble, Courtney, and I'm sure you have some great ideas here… but this is completely unnecessary.

Noah: I agree with everything she said, except for the "great ideas" part. (Courtney groans.)

Courtney: You know what? Fine. I'm a proponent of democracy. You two have the clear majority. I won't be doing the presentation. So then it looks like I have no use for this, now do I?! (She grabs the poster off the windowsill and crumples it up into a huge ball, before throwing it onto the floor. She then begins violently jumping on it, crushing it into the ground, her teeth gritted in rage. Bridgette watches in shock as Courtney goes about her work, while Noah just continues to read his book, uninterested. Finally, Courtney stops, breathing heavily. The poster is now nothing but a completely flattened mess with shoe prints all over it, smashed into the floor like road kill.)

Bridgette (staring down at the floor): That… wasn't entirely necessary either. (Courtney takes a deep breath and wipes the sweat from her brow, before regaining her composure.)

Courtney: Okay. Time for plan B. Instead of me just lecturing, we're going to have a group discussion so that the whole class can be involved, since that's obviously what you people want. (She angrily turns to Noah.) I HOPE THAT MAKES YOU HAPPY, NOAH!

Noah (not looking up from his book): Ecstatic.

Courtney: I'm glad. (She takes a seat on a stool in front of them, her knees bent.) So, let's start by reflecting a little on last night's vote. As I'm sure you two remember, our alliance initially went in with a clear objective: get Katie out.

Noah: Not me. I was targeting your boyfriend. (Courtney's eyelid twitches.)

Courtney: I am aware… and we'll get to that matter of business in a moment. But first, I thought we could go around the room and just have everyone say what they feel they personally did wrong last night, what it shows about their character, and how they would like to change that in the future. Sound like a plan?

Bridgette: Uh… sure.

Noah (reading his book and not paying attention): I agree with Bridgette.

Courtney: All right, cool. So, I'll start. Obviously, as I've made clear, I voted for Gwen last night. So yes, I had a big hand in her demise. However, that was done to save Trent, a person whom I am romantically involved with, at least for the time being. So I hope I can at least be forgiven for that.

Bridgette: For voting out Gwen because Trent's your boyfriend and you didn't want to see him go? Yeah, I can forgive that. For having Trent as a boyfriend in the first place? Yeah, that one makes no sense.

Noah (still not looking up from his book): I agree with Bridgette. (Courtney turns away.)

Courtney: Well, we're really not here to discuss personal matters. So I will have to politely request that the two of you drop the topic.

Bridgette: But when your personal matters are altering the vote, don't you think we have a right to talk about them?

Noah: (still reading): I agree with Bridgette.

Courtney: Listen, none of this would even be an issue if we had all just stuck to the plan and voted for Katie. I wouldn't have felt the need to flip to save Trent, and Geoff wouldn't have ended up screwing everything up whilst trying to save his "bromance"!

Bridgette: That's fair enough. I agree with that.

Noah (still reading): I agree with Bridgette.

Courtney: So, obviously, I need to work on being more resolute in my opinions in the future, especially in crucial situations. And I will strive to do that from here on out. Anyways, I think that's enough about me. (She turns to Bridgette.) Bridgette, would you like to go next?

Noah (still reading): I agree with Bridgette. (Courtney frowns.)

Courtney: Huh? What are you agreeing with? She didn't even say any… wait a minute. (She whips around to face him.) You haven't been paying attention at all this entire time, have you? (Noah notices her glaring at him, and looks up from his book.)

Noah: No. That is not true.

Courtney: Yes it is! Don't lie to me!

Noah: I'm not lying to you, Courtney. I swear on my kids' lives. I've been paying complete attention.

Courtney: No you haven't! You've just been sitting there reading while saying "I agree with Bridgette" after every time she speaks! But now, because you were paying so little attention that you accidentally said it after I spoke, we finally noticed! (Noah is silent for a moment.)

Noah: Welp, good thing I don't plan to have kids. (He goes back to reading. Courtney crosses her arms.)

Courtney: Noah, I am really not appreciating your attitude right now. It's not only extremely disrespectful, but also toxic to the entire group. Healthy communication is key to any alliance, and right now, we don't even know what to expect any given time you open your mouth. One minute, you're telling us the truth. The next minute, you're lying through your teeth with no remorse. The next minute, you're cracking a sarcastic one-liner like this is all a joke. And it's a compete bitch to deal with!

Bridgette: I have to agree with her here, Noah. You came to us, saying that you're on our side now. Do you really mean that? Or are you actually a spy for the others? Or are you just sitting here trolling us because you have nothing better to do with your time? (Noah shrugs.)

Noah: Obviously, I think this whole meeting is a complete waste of time, and I'm not gonna pretend I don't feel that way. But trust me; I was completely serious when I said I'm with you guys from here on out. Let's just say that Katie made it very apparent to me that I have no chance of ever becoming her ally again.

Courtney: How do you know?

Noah: Well, she gave me a sort of dirty look during the Campfire Ceremony for a split second. (He pauses.) Oh yeah, and she also set fire to all of my clothes a few hours later. (Bridgette gasps.)

Bridgette: What?! She did?! That's… that's completely insane! How did she do that?!

Noah: Let me see if I can recall. I believe it went something like this: she took my suitcase, grabbed a match, lit the match, and then set my suitcase on fire. (He chuckles.) You ask such silly questions, Bridgette.

Courtney: Well, you're free to borrow any of our clothes, Noah.

Bridgette: He is?! (Courtney turns to Bridgette.)

Courtney: Yes, Bridgette, he is. That's what good alliance members do for one another! They help a fellow member in their time of need. (She smiles warmly at Noah.) So, Noah, please just let us know if you need any clothes to help you get by.

Bridgette: But he's a guy! And all we have are girls' clothes!

Courtney: So? How about you join us in the 21st century, Bridgette? In case you weren't aware, the whole idea of "gender" is just a societal construct. EVERYONE knows that, Bridgette. Male and female? Simply figments of our imagination, or more specifically, a rigid naming system designed by the ever oppressive patriarchal society and unfairly implanted in our minds at a young age to further control our thinking to fit in with their cisgender-favoring, elitist ideals. You're obviously just one more mindless pawn who's bought into their backwards lies.

Bridgette: Um… what? (She shakes her head.) All I'm saying is that I'm not sure if Noah is the type who feels comfortable walking around in short-shorts and yoga pants!

Courtney: Well then we can ask him! (She turns to Noah expectantly.) So? What do you think? (Noah looks up from his book.)

Noah: I appreciate the kind offer, Courtney. But Bridgette's right. None of your clothes will properly suit me. (He shrugs.) I just don't think either of you can accommodate for my bra size. I need at least a double D or it completely cuts off my circulation.

Courtney: What?! Really?! (She glances at his chest.) Are you just really good at hiding them, or…?

Noah: That was an instance of me being sarcastic, Courtney. (Courtney scowls at him.)

Courtney: This is what I mean, Noah! One minute you're serious, then you're suddenly joking again. We never know what to expect with you!

Noah: I would hope you would be able to know that I'm not being serious when I say I have giant boobs. (Courtney frowns for a moment, before nodding.)

Courtney: Well… of course! (She laughs nervously, rubbing the back of her neck.) I was just joking around too. Haha. Anyways… uh, either way, we're glad to have you on board, Noah.

Noah: I'm glad that you're glad. (Courtney nods with approval.)

Courtney: I'm glad that you're glad that I'm glad.

Noah: Uh… ok. Cool. (He stretches his arms above his head and yawns.) Wow, it's getting late. I personally think this has been a very productive meeting for us. We got a lot of alliance-y stuff done. We delved into why I'm such an asshole. We even got a quick lesson about government-sanctioned transphobia from Courtney. It was a fulfilling experience from beginning to end. Good work, team. (He goes back to reading.)

Courtney: No! What are you doing?! This meeting is NOT even CLOSE to done!

Noah (as he reads): What's there left to talk about?

Courtney: EVERYTHING! (She crosses her arms and looks at the book he has in hands.) What are you reading right now, anyway? What do you keep deeming to be so much more interesting than interacting with us? (Noah shrugs.)

Noah: Oh, just something I found recently. It's a very modern piece, for sure. Relatively unknown at this point. But I can already tell that it's an instant classic. (He holds up the book, revealing a cover with Trent's smiling face on it. Bridgette gasps.)

Bridgette: No way. You've been reading Trent's book?

Noah: Yep. Although I don't think "reading" is the correct verb in this situation. I'm more just marveling at each passing word in utter amazement and horror. I want to look away from the page and drown my eyes in bleach, but at the same time, I've never been more engrossed in a book and I cannot stop reading no matter how hard I try. It's sort of similar to how one would watch a really violent car crash.

Bridgette: Wow. So what is the book actually about?

Noah: Hmm. That's really difficult for me to say. The novel is about as close to fully incoherent as is physically possible. Think of it as if someone were to grab the English language by its throat, drag it into a dark alley, and repeatedly beat it over the head with a crowbar until all that remained was a bloody, pathetic mess of what was once an elegant and respected language. Then find a thesaurus, swallow it whole, and vomit every word over three syllables onto the pile. Then take the messy remains and smear them all over the pages of a book with no thought whatsoever for organization. That would give you the general idea of the writing quality.

Courtney: Oh, c'mon. It can't be that bad, Noah. You're seriously exaggerating. I'm sure of it.

Noah: Am I really? Would you care to come over here and see for yourself?

Courtney: As a matter of fact, I think I will! (She storms over and snatches the book out of Noah's hands. She begins reading. Slowly, her eyes widen as they flit across the page, until finally, she drops the book and cups a hand over her mouth.) Oh ****************.

Noah: Exactly. (He turns to Bridgette.) Care to take a look too?

Bridgette: I think I'll pass, thanks.

Courtney: What about the illustrations? They're… they're at least passable, right?

Noah: If by "passable", you mean "nothing but self-portraits that are all just unrealistically well-endowed stick figures", then yes, the illustrations pass with flying colors. (Courtney sighs, shaking her head. Bridgette, meanwhile, picks up the book, frowning.)

Bridgette: See, what I don't get it is why you even kept your copy in your first place. Why didn't you throw yours away with the rest of us?

Noah: Oh, believe me, honey, I was first to the trashcan. This isn't my copy of the book.

Bridgette: Then whose is it? (Noah beckons to Courtney.)

Noah: I found it under her mattress. So I'm assuming it's hers. (Courtney glares angrily at Noah.)

Courtney: What were you doing searching under my bed?!

Noah: I wouldn't have looked if hadn't I felt a noticeable lump when I sat down earlier. That, and I could also immediately sense a strange, overpowering presence underneath me. Like great stupidity and arrogance were radiating up towards my body from below, trying to consume my soul. (He holds up the book.) Turns out that this was the source of both of those sensations. (Courtney shrugs.)

Courtney: Well, it's not my copy. I don't know whose it is. (Noah sighs.)

Noah: Do I really have to prove that it's yours? Because I think that will just be embarrassing for the both of us. (Courtney's eyelid twitches, but she remains calm.)

Courtney: You can't prove jack sh**.

Noah: Fine. Have it your way. (He turns to the inside front cover.) There just so happens to be a special handwritten note from Trent in here addressed to a certain "Courtney Uh… Sorry-I-Forget-Your-Last-Name". (Courtney gasps.)

Courtney: There is? He wrote me a note?! (She suddenly catches herself.) Um… I mean… that note obviously is addressed to another Courtney.

Bridgette: Courtney, please. You're not fooling anyone. (She turns to Noah.) What does it say?

Courtney: No! He can't read it aloud! It's obviously personal and therefore a violation of privacy!

Noah: You said this book doesn't personally belong to you. So why should you care if it's personal? (Before Courtney can protest, he clears his throat and begins reading.) "Courtney… there are so many things I want to say, and so little time. But I will try to capture within these short words the entirety of my feelings for you. You are, quite simply, my everything. You are my light when I'm trapped in the dark. You are my cool patch of shade on a sweltering hot day. You are the gust of wind that blows my sails. You are the perfectly-timed breeze that blows my hair back and suddenly makes it look awesome right at the moment when I'm taking a selfie. You are my shelter when there is a storm. You are that extra roll of toilet paper that I find hidden inside the cabinet under the sink in the bathroom at Taco Bell, just when I think all hope has been lost. Everything I need, you give to me. You give me purpose. As you know, I have had my heart broken before. So have you (although that one was kinda your fault, tbh). But when we're together, I feel as though we both can just forget it all. What else can I say, Courtney? You're my bae. From here on, I hope that we will always—" (Noah suddenly bursts out laughing.) Sorry, I just can't with this. (He turns to Bridgette and Courtney.) Anyways, it goes on from there in similar fashion. (Bridgette and Courtney both look shell-shocked. Noah smirks.) So? Are you ladies totally digging the secret romantic side of Trent we've discovered? (Bridgette continues to stare forward.)

Bridgette: I… I don't know whether to feel more horrified or more terrified by what I just listened to. (Courtney slowly nods.)

Courtney: Yeah, that's pretty accurate. (She pauses, and a small smile creeps onto her face.) But still, I sort of liked it…

Noah: Welp, there goes any understanding of women I thought I had. (Bridgette looks to Courtney, her eyes even wider.)

Bridgette: What?! You did?! Why? (Courtney shrugs.)

Courtney: It's hard to explain. I mean, obviously it was one of the most bizarre and uncomfortable love letters I've ever heard. In fact, it pretty much took the whole concept of love letters in general and ran over it with a figurative pickup truck. But at the same time… it was just so passionate, you know?

Noah: He compared you to toilet paper.

Courtney: Which he's obviously very passionate about! (She shrugs.) I've just never had a guy talk to me in that way, okay? I mean, Alejandro did, but he was never genuine about it. I could always hear him rehearsing his lines in the shower in between all the singing of Shakira songs and crying about his brother. Duncan never even tried to be romantic. Trent at least made an honest effort. And despite its disturbing and somewhat nightmarish result, that means a lot to me.

Bridgette: I get it, Courtney. I had the exact same feelings towards that clay bowl that Geoff made me back in Season 1.

Courtney: Okay, but that thing was actually just ****. (Bridgette glares at her.)

Bridgette: You might want to take that back. (Courtney sees the anger in the surfer girls' eyes and cringes.)

Courtney: Sorry. I didn't think you'd get so offended by me saying that. Didn't you and Geoff, like, break up?

Bridgette: No we didn't! Well, I mean, yes we did. I mean… it's complicated.

Courtney: Well, I think it's just fine for the two of you to take a break. Being part of a relationship only screws up your strategic game. It complicates things that much further. So it's better just to stay out of them. Trust me.

Noah: Oh, so that's why you're currently in a happy relationship with a member of the opposing alliance. Got it.

Courtney: My situation with Trent is a… unique case. We both can separate our strategic games from our love lives. Thus, our relationship can function without having any drastic effect on the game.

Noah: That is an absolute riot. (He looks sternly at Courtney.) Honest question right now. Do you even realize what happened last night? (Courtney crosses her arms.)

Courtney: Obviously I do. Geoff f**ked up the vote. It's been well established by now.

Noah: Sure. But I'm talking about before that. Remember how Katie convinced your alliance to vote for Trent instead of her? Why do you think that was? (Courtney shrugs.)

Courtney: To save herself, obviously.

Noah: Don't lie to yourself. You know the actual motive behind that move. We all knew you would never vote for Trent. So I decided to use that to our advantage. I actually came up with the whole plan. I knew that if Trent were suddenly on the table for elimination, you would flip to Katie's side without a moment's hesitation. And you know what? I was right. Obviously, I had motives that went beyond that specific plan, but the point still stands.

Courtney: And what exactly is your point?

Noah: If you don't thing that Katie's alliance will continue to exploit your feelings for Trent, you're crazy. They're going to keep finding ways to use that to their advantage. So as long as you're close with Trent, you're close with his alliance too, as far as I'm concerned. (Courtney turns to Bridgette in exasperation.)

Courtney: Bridgette, you can't possibly agree with him here, right?!

Bridgette: I have to admit, I am a little uncomfortable with the idea of you being in a relationship with someone in the opposing alliance. Geoff and I had a situation like that back in Total Drama Island when he was part of the boys' alliance, and it wasn't pretty. And as much as I appreciate that Geoff refused to vote for me despite the peer pressure, him doing so almost screwed up their whole plan.

Courtney: Well, that won't be a problem with me, Bridgette. I only have one allegiance in this game, and that's to you guys. If Trent wants to stick with Katie's alliance, so be it. I will have no choice but to consider him my enemy.

Noah: So you're saying that if you were given a situation where you had to vote for Trent or one of us would go home, you'd vote for him? (Courtney is silent for a long time.)

Courtney: That is just an unrealistic scenario. When would that ever even happen?

Noah: Um, off the top of my head… (He checks his watch.) …About three hours ago.

Courtney: But that was just because we weren't prepared! We didn't expect Katie to pull something like that, and it caught us off guard. Now we know that we all just always need to vote for Katie, no matter what. Hammer that message home, and we're good to go.

Bridgette: But what if Katie wins immunity? (Courtney is silent for a moment. Then she shrugs.)

Courtney: What if it suddenly starts raining cats and dogs? What if time starts going in reverse? What if Tyler stops sucking at everything he does? I can pose ridiculous what-ifs too. (Noah sighs.)

Noah: You can evade the topic all you like, Courtney. You can keep performing this impossible balancing act between your boytoy and your alliance. But personally, I can never trust you to tell me the truth as long as it it's coming from the same mouth that has had Trent's tongue previously inside of it.

Courtney: Eww! Noah, really?! Did you really have to phrase it that way?

Noah: Yes. Yes I did. (He looks directly into Courtney's eyes.) Look, Courtney, here's how I see it. I know you want to get Katie out of this game at all costs, and I think it's a very realistic possibility. But you may have to make sacrifices along the way. And that might have to include cutting ties with Trent. Whatever can weaken Katie power in the game, that's what you should want to do. It's just the truth of the matter. (Courtney sighs.)

Courtney: You're not getting it, are you? Have you ever stopped and wondered why I want Katie out so badly in the first place?

Noah: Nope. I don't tend to think in detail about other people whom I don't have the slightest interest in.

Courtney: Wow, thanks. Well, let me clue you in. As you're probably aware, Katie and Trent have been ridiculously tight since the merge.

Noah: Uh… sure.

Courtney: And as a result, Trent has become a completely different person around me. He's reclusive. Secretive. Withdrawn. In fact, ever since he joined that alliance with Katie, it often seems like he'd rather spend time with her than he would with me! And that's why Katie needs to leave ASAP.

Noah: Ah, I get it. (He smirks.) Sounds like someone's "jelly", as is the correct term.

Courtney: No! No way! Me? Jealous?! I am not jealous of that slutty f**kface man-stealer whore.

Bridgette: You sound a little jealous.

Courtney: Well, I'm not! I'm just worried about Trent's safety, that's all. (She nods to Bridgette.) You said it yourself: Katie can be extremely ruthless. She tossed aside DJ, one of her closest allies, as if he were nothing. (Bridgette shrugs.)

Bridgette: Hey, it's not like I'm disagreeing with the adjectives you used to describe her. (She turns to Noah.) It's true, Katie is a major backstabber. She offered Geoff, DJ and me a final 4 pact, and literally voted out DJ 1 day later.

Noah: Oh, believe me, I know about that whole ordeal. She wouldn't stop bragging to me about that crap the whole time I was with her. Look, I'm not denying she's a bitch. I mean, she makes Courtney seem tolerable. That's a feat right there.

Courtney: Oh, hahahahaha. Good one. They should pay you for this. (She rolls her eyes.) The point is, Katie is dangerous, especially to a hormonal, impressionable young man like Trent. She reels you in with her charm, before she cuts your throat. She's already got Trent hooked on her line. What I'm thinking is that she's offered him some sort of final 2 deal. Trent's probably buying it, too. But little does he know that Katie plans to kick him aside before too long. I'm sure of it.

Noah: Nope. You're wrong there. If Katie has offered Trent a trip to the final 2, it's 100 percent genuine.

Courtney: And why do you think that?

Noah: Katie may be evil, but she's not stupid. At this point, she would have to be an absolute moron to ever even consider getting rid of Trent. She knows everyone pretty much hates her. And she also knows that there will be a jury deciding the winner this season. Trent is the only person more hated than she is, so it only makes logical sense that she wants him to be the person sitting there with her at the end. Even then, Katie might lose, but at least she'll have a chance.

Courtney: So, you're telling me Katie wouldn't rather be in a final 2 with Lindsay? Or Ezekiel? Or TYLER? People who haven't done a goddamned thing all game?!

Noah: Yep. Sure, those three aren't exactly strategic masterminds, but they also aren't offensive to humanity like Trent is. (Courtney sighs.)

Courtney: Look, you might be right. If so, great for Trent. He'll get my vote at the end. (She takes a deep breath.) Okay, fine. I'll admit it. I am… a bit… "jelly". (She groans.) Did ever mention that I really hate that word? Of course they'd turn my biggest phobia into modern teen slang. (Bridgette walks up and pats Courtney on the back.)

Bridgette: It's okay to feel this way, Courtney. We're not judging you.

Noah: I am. (Bridgette turns and glares at him.)

Bridgette: Not helpful, Noah!

Noah: I don't know why lying to her would be helpful either. (Bridgette is about to protest, but Courtney holds up a hand.)

Courtney: It's fine. I understand. I would be judging me too. I know it all sounds so pathetic. But I just want Katie gone, okay? I just want her to disappear out my sight forever and for f**k's sake, get her hands off my man. And if you two can help me accomplish that goal, I'll be forever grateful. (Bridgette and Noah glance over at each other.)

Noah: Bridgette… I think I need to talk to you in private for a moment. (He beckons Bridgette over to him. Bridgette slowly walks over and sits on the bed next to him. Noah then starts whispering in her ear. Bridgette cups a hand to her mouth and whispers back, looking concerned. Back and forth it goes, with Courtney trying to listen in, but to no avail. The whispering continues, getting louder as it goes on. Finally, they both stop. Bridgette and Noah pull away from one another and look back at Courtney.)

Noah: Okay. Courtney, we've made a decision. From here on out, this alliance has the sole purpose of getting Katie out of the game at all costs, and nothing else. Per your wishes. And yes, I do think it's sort of pathetic. (Courtney beams.)

Courtney: Thank you guys so much. I'm so glad you're willing to—

Bridgette: Hold on. There's one little requirement we ask of you. (Courtney nods, smiling.)

Courtney: Anything you want. I'll do it, I promise.

Noah: Glad you feel that way. Stay away from Trent.

Courtney: What?!

Bridgette: Not forever, Courtney. But for now, we just think you should try to avoid him. At least until we can get rid of Katie and break up that whole alliance.

Courtney: But… why?

Noah: Why? You said it yourself. Trent is Katie's puppet. Which means he will probably do as she says. Katie knows you're the weak spot in the alliance. She could tell him to try and manipulate you, Courtney. (Courtney laughs.)

Courtney: Come on. You really think Trent could manipulate me? I don't think so.

Noah: Hey, based on your reaction to that note of his, it's obvious you're a sucker for a little romance. Trent could use that to his advantage. Let's say he treats you to a romantic walk through the forest to go see some really romantic tree or some bullshit like that. You drop your guard, and you could end up giving away information. Or even worse; he could somehow get you to join their side.

Courtney: How many times do I have to tell you?! I'm not going to ever team up with those people! I've already made it well known how I feel about Katie. Cody is an annoying perv. And Tyler is Tyler. I don't see why this is necessary!

Bridgette: It might not be. But can you do it anyway for us, Courtney? We just want to make entirely certain that you we don't ever have a repeat of last night. We might be taking ridiculous precautions that seem to be entirely pointless, but it's just in case.

Noah: Think of us as the TSA, but without the molestation.

Courtney: So what was last night? Our version of 9/11?

Noah: Sure. Think of it that way. I'm sure that's not disrespectful in any way to the victims and their families.

Bridgette: Please, Courtney? (Courtney is silent, before she finally sighs.)

Courtney: Fine. You win. I'll keep my distance from Trent for the time being. (She shakes her head.) I'm worried for him, though… how is he going to react? It'll be an absolute nightmare for him. He's going to think it's the Gwen ordeal all over again. That I'm distancing myself because I'm preparing to break up with him. It'll be absolute torture! Trent doesn't deserve such a cruel and unusual punishment like that. (Noah walks up to Courtney and gingerly places a hand on her shoulder.)

Noah: Oh, Courtney… yes he does. (He then walks back over to the bed and goes back to reading Trent's book. Courtney, meanwhile, continues to gaze out the window, anxiety spreading across her face.)

Confession Cam

Courtney: This sucks. Sure, I've never had problems in the past with hurting my boyfriend to further myself strategically. I did it all the time with Duncan, and he never seemed to mind. But thing about Trent is, he's a little more… in touch with his emotions than Duncan is. (Chris sticks his head through the window.)

Chris: You know, you really can just say that he's a whiny little bitch.

Courtney: No! That's not at all what I'm trying to… okay maybe a little. (She sighs.) It's just that now that I know Trent's true feelings about me, how can I do something like this? It's horrible! (Suddenly, she gets an idea.) Wait a minute. I know. What if I just say I have to go to the bathroom every time he approaches me? Yeah! That's a great idea! That way, he won't think I'm purposely ignoring him! (Chris scowls.)

Chris: I knew Chef's constant trips to the bathroom were suspicious. THAT ASSHOLE! (He ducks his head out of the window and storms away.)

Courtney: …Anyways… no matter what strategy I come up with, the number one priority is making sure that Trent doesn't get hurt. That is a must.

(Static)

Noah: You're probably all wondering right now—do I trust Courtney? Hmm… well, she only spent the whole premerge trying to get me out, and even threw a challenge to do so. She's also the girlfriend of my arch nemesis who is still dedicated to getting me out and will probably stop at nothing to do so. (He shrugs.) So yeah, I trust her about as much as I trust anyone else.

End of Confessionals

Redemption Path

(Gwen silently walks along the path, glancing around at the trees lining either side. The moon is shining high above, casting a thin, pale light down to the ground, where it pierces the enveloping shadows. Gwen stops for a moment, feeling a cool breeze roll past her skin. Then she continues walking, quietly observing her surroundings.)

Confession Cam

Gwen: You know, the idea of spending time at Redemption Cabin doesn't really sound too terrible to me. I sort of hate all people. So a little solitude could be just what I need. (She sighs.) It's too bad I have to tolerate another human for most of the time that I'm there. I'm just glad that DJ is sitting there waiting for me instead of Alejandro. DJ is definitely one of the more down-to-earth, sane people I know. Alejandro, on the other hand… isn't. And I'll leave it at that. So yeah. I'm really glad it's a normal guy like DJ.

End of Confessionals

Redemption Cabin

DJ: Heh heh… ain't nobody getting you now, DJ… (He drops the hammer on the bed next to him, and admires his work. All the doors and windows are boarded shut, with huge planks of wood covering all entrances to the cabin. DJ, meanwhile, is covered in a suit of armor made entirely out of tree bark.)

DJ: If only momma could see me now… she'd be so proud of me for being safe! (He walks over to one of the boarded-up windows and pats it proudly.) Within my newly-formed impenetrable kingdom of safety and love, I shall never face a sleepless night again! BOOYAH! (He runs over to one of the walls, and starts yelling through it.) HAHAHAHA! JUST TRY AND GET ME NOW, YOU LOSERS! YOU LOSE, I WIN! MY BODY IS STAYIN' MY BODY! YOU DON'T OWN ME! (Meanwhile, Gwen sees the cabin in the distance, and sighs with relief.)

Gwen: Finally. (She continues making her way forward, until she enters the clearing. Gwen stops for a moment, frowning. She narrows her eyes, analyzing the cabin from a distance. She notices the planks of wood covering all of the windows, and chuckles.) Hmm. Interesting architectural design you got going there, Chris. And by interesting, I mean ugly as ****. (She shrugs, and continues to make her way forward. However, the moment she does, she trips over something, and just barely catches herself before she falls face-first into the ground.)

Gwen: What the…?! (She looks down, and sees a knee-high wooden sign sticking out of the ground by her feet. On it, in sloppy red paint, read the words "Stay away!". Gwen stares at it for a moment longer, before shrugging and continuing her trek towards the cabin. A few seconds later, she nearly trips over another sign, reading "I'm serious! You don't wanna mess with me!" Gwen has barely finished reading it before she continues walking again. She steps around a third sign reading "What in God's name are you still doing here?!", before hopping over a fourth reading "THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE! BETTER HEAD BACK TO THE UNDERWORLD OR THINGS ARE GONNA GET DAMN REAL UP IN HERE!". Gwen smiles dryly.)

Gwen: Somebody has been busy with arts and crafts, haven't they?

Confession Cam

Gwen: Sure, usually you should heed repeated the warnings telling you to stay away or else, especially when you're all alone in the middle of the night in a secluded location. But I knew it was DJ's handwriting from the start. (She smirks.) It really wasn't hard to tell. I mean, he's the only mother****er in the whole world who would choose to write physically threatening messages in cursive.

End of Confessionals

(Gwen walks up and pounds on the door. She immediately hears a girly shriek from within the cabin, followed by frantic scraping noises and a loud thud. Slowly, DJ begins speaking from the other side of the door, his voice shaky and barely above a whisper.)

DJ: Uh… DJ is not available right now.

Gwen: Oh really? Because this voice sure sounds like DJ to me. What is he so busy doing, might I ask? (There's a long silence.)

DJ: Umm… DJ is busy… with… uh… not being available right now. And he will never not be not available in the foreseeable future. So please try again never. Because he will never be available. Yes. That is the truth. SO JUST GET OUTTA HERE! (Gwen rolls her eyes.)

Gwen: DJ, let me in. It's me, Gwen. (There's silence for a moment on the other side of the door.)

DJ: …G-Gwen?

Gwen: The one and only. (There's another long silence.)

DJ: This doesn't make any sense. Why… why are you here?

Gwen: Take a wild guess.

DJ: YOU'VE COME TO MURDER ME?!

Gwen: No! What are you talking about? I got voted out. So I'm your new roommate. That's how this whole thing works, remember? (DJ gasps.)

DJ: You got voted out? What?! How?! How did this happen?!

Gwen: If you let me in, I can tell you all about it. Now can you please open the door? It's cold as balls out here. (There's silence for a moment.)

DJ: Hmm. (Gwen groans.)

Gwen: What now?

DJ: Well… I just need a quick summary. You say that you are Gwen. And trust me, I want to believe you when you say this. And right now, I do think you probably are, indeed, Gwen, as you claim.

Gwen: Who else would I be? Who else has this exact voice that you obviously recognize is mine?

DJ: Well, there's Jen from 6teen. You two do share a voice actress. (He shakes his head.) But I doubt it's her. She and I had a bit of a falling out recently- it was all about how I'm not supposed to be randomly wandering into their universe and how it screws up the whole space-time continuum and stuff like that. But I'm getting off topic. No, you certainly sound like Gwen. That's not the little problem I have. I just wanted to clear something up, if that's okay.

Gwen: Make it quick.

DJ: I'll try my best. So… just now, you said that "it's cold as balls" outside, correct? That was the phrase you used?

Gwen: Yes! And it is! What's the issue with that?

DJ: Nothing, really… it's just that the Gwen that I know isn't exactly prone to including testicular similes in everyday conversation. In fact, I've never heard her use one. So that gives me a bit of a cause for suspicion, right off the bat.

Gwen: Well, the DJ I know is not the type to lock himself up inside of a cabin like a weirdo paranoid hermit and refuse to let any and all humans inside, even his friends, even when he obviously knows it's them! (She pauses.) Actually, that does sort of sound like DJ.

DJ: Gwen, I think you need to understand where I'm coming from here. I'm not trying to be the bad guy right now. I'm really not. But I just recently happened to become aware that there are demons nearby, and they're looking for me. That's why I've built this fort out of the cabin: to keep the them out at all costs. And so far, it has worked. But demons are crafty, as I'm sure you know. They find ways to make you let your guard down. So I was thinking, what if one came to my front door disguised as one of my friends, to try and trick me into a horrible mistake? That's why I'm hesitant to let you in right now, Gwen. I hope you can see the logic in my reasoning. (Gwen is silent for a long time.)

Gwen: …Have you been drinking?

DJ: Oh, yes. I've been drinking plenty of water. Proper hydration is key for successful hand-to-hand combat with the undead. Of course, I hope I never have to resort to that, but you never know.

Gwen: No, I'm asking are you inebriated right now?

DJ: I don't know what that word means.

Gwen: Are you f**king drunk?!

DJ: What?! No! No I'm not! Why would you ask something like that?

Gwen: Hmm. Why would I?! I don't know, maybe because you're talking about the supernatural as if it EXISTS?!

DJ: It does! I've seen it with my own two eyes! (He pauses.) In fact, now that I think about it, you trying to deny its existence makes me all the more suspicious. Almost like you're trying to cover up the fact YOU'RE a demon!

Gwen: DJ! Stop being ridiculous! Whatever you "saw" was just your mind playing tricks on you!

DJ: It's not at all ridiculous, Gwen. It's not just me. There are studies proving it. I read this one article about it online this one time. (He pauses.) And I have to admit, out of all of my friends, you are the one I would most expect. (Gwen wrinkles her nose.)

Gwen: What is that supposed to mean?!

DJ: I mean, don't take this the wrong way, Gwen… but Goth people have been known to dabble in the realm of demonology from time to time.

Gwen: No we don't! All we do is wear weird clothing and hate authority figures!

DJ: And communicate with malevolent spirits. (Gwen groans, and pounds on the door more forcefully.)

Gwen: You know what? I've had enough of this Ghostbusters bullcrap! Let me in right now!

DJ: Gwen, I want to… but I can't.

Gwen: Yes you can!

DJ: You're right, I can. But what I can't do is take the risk. Does that make me weak? Maybe so. But Momma always told me better safe than sorry.

Gwen: You're wrong. DJ. Your mother wouldn't want this. If you leave me out here, I could freeze to death. You're valuing your own safety over that of your friend's!

DJ: That's not true. We're both safer this way, Gwen.

Gwen: What's the logic behind that?!

DJ: Um… that is a question I will let you discover the answer to for yourself.

Gwen: You're just saying that because there isn't any logic behind it!

DJ: …It appears you have a discovered the answer. (He sighs.) Look, Gwen, I'm deeply sorry. But I just can't let you in. If you really are Gwen and you need a place to stay, Chris has got a sweet pad not too far from here where I'm sure you can crash, just as long as he doesn't manage to find you. Oh yeah, and if you can get past the guards patrolling the 14-ft high metal wall. And the rabid Dobermans. (He pauses.) And nuclear missiles. (He sighs again.) This isn't fun for me, Gwen. I want you to know that. I wouldn't want to do this to anyone, especially a great friend like you. All I hope is that we can somehow still stay friends after this is all over. I can even treat you to lunch at Subway if you want. Although I'm gonna have to ask that you order a 6 inch and not a foot-long. Money is still tight these days, as you know. (He shakes his head.) Speaking of which, Subway really need to get on with making a 9-inch sandwich. I mean, 6 inches is way too small, and 12 inches is oftentimes too big. A 9-inch sandwich would be goddamn perfect. WHY DON'T THEY HAVE THAT?! C'MON! Heh heh. Sorry. I'm getting myself worked up again. Anyways, how does that all sound? Do you think it's a possibility? (He waits for a response, but gets none. Frowning, DJ walks over to the tiny peephole he has carved in the door, and peers through it. Gwen is no longer on his doorstep. DJ shrugs.)

DJ: Hmm. She must've taken my advice. Good for her. (He takes a deep breath.) Don't feel guilty, DJ. You did the right thing. Momma would agree. She HAS to agree, right? (He pauses, and listens to the silence in the cabin. DJ sighs.) Although, admittedly, I could've used some company…

Gwen (from behind him): Well, then you're in luck. (DJ gasps at the sound of her voice, and whips around. There, standing in front of him, is Gwen. DJ screams in horror at the sight of her and tries to run away. However, he has only taken a single step before he loses his balance due to the weight of his wooden armor and topples backward. DJ slams into the wall behind him and crashes to the floor, his wooden helmet flying off his head. He then slowly looks up, groaning, and points a crooked finger at the Goth girl.)

DJ: You… HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE?! THERE'S NO WAY YOU COULD HAVE POSSIBLY GOTTEN IN HERE!

Gwen: You left a window open. (She beckons to her right, where there's a large open window. DJ nods.)

DJ: Well, I mean, of course. Obviously I had to have some sort of airflow in here. I was about five seconds away from suffocating to death! (He groans, and smacks his forehead in frustration.) But still, I should've known that the demons would discover it! They really are as crafty as that article claimed. Damn it! I should have paid closer attention to what it said! I mean, the author had a PhD in agriculture from an online college, for Christ's sake! He was obviously an expert in the field of supernatural studies! And yet I practically ignored him! WHAT WAS I THINKING?!

Gwen: If it's any consolation, the open window doesn't actually make a difference. (DJ frowns at her.)

DJ: What do you mean?

Gwen: I don't know if you're aware, DJ, but in popular culture, most demons can pass through walls with ease. So leaving a window open is really only like adding a welcome mat to the cabin. The demons are gonna get in either way. (Noticing DJ's expression of pure horror, she cringes.) Um… that being said, demons don't exist, so you have nothing to worry about.

DJ: How do you know? Why should I believe a trustworthy friend of mine over a stranger on the Internet? Did I forget to mention he had a PHD IN AGRICULTURE?! What do YOU have a PhD in?!

Gwen: Nothing! I just have common sense! Besides, agriculture has absolutely nothing to do with anything! The only thing that dumb author is actually good for is determining which types of f**king carrots grow the best in f**king 70 percent humidity! (DJ nods with approval.)

DJ: A useful skill to have. That's a tuition well spent.

Gwen: But absolutely irrelevant in the conversation regarding the existence of paranormal activity. Which, mind you, shouldn't even be a conversation in the first place when there is exactly 0 legitimate pieces of evidence for it.

DJ: I got more than few legit pieces of evidence! Listen, I know what I've seen, okay?! You weren't there, and yet you're still denying it! I'M NOT CRAZY! (Gwen places a hand on his shoulder.)

Gwen: I don't think you're crazy, DJ. You're just a little… okay, no, you're acting pretty f**king crazy right now. I know whatever you experienced may have frightened you. But you have to remember that it wasn't real. And even if it was, it does not give you the right to start acting like this. (DJ frowns.)

DJ: I don't think I've been that bad.

Gwen: You haven't?! I beg to differ. You're giving me more secondhand embarrassment right now than my brother did when my friends and I discovered him engaging in autoerotic asphyxiation while watching the music video to "Love Me Harder" by Ariana Grande. And THAT is saying something. (She grabs his shoulders firmly, and looks directly into his eyes.) Now, I want you to listen to me. This… thing that you've become since you arrived here? Whatever it is, it isn't you, DJ. At least, not the real you. (DJ starts to speak, but she puts a finger to his lips.) Look, I know you're scared. I know you want to go home. This isn't your environment; I get that. I feel the same way at any event where I have to talk to people. But if you keep acting like this, the demons, the monsters, the rapists, whatever- they may still scare you, but none of them will rival the fear you feel when you look in the mirror and see an unrecognizable man staring back at you. (DJ begins nodding, tears welling up in his eyes.)

DJ: I think… I think you're right… Nay, I KNOW YOU'RE RIGHT! (He starts to cry.) WHAT KIND OF MAN HAVE I BECOME?! AM I EVEN A MAN?! (Gwen pats his back comfortingly as he sobs. Finally, DJ calms down, and wipes the tears away from his eyes.) I'm so sorry. Gwen… for everything…

Gwen: Don't be. I'm just happy that you finally learned your lesson.

DJ: B-but… how do I go from here? How do I fix myself?

Gwen: You don't need to change a lot, DJ. You just need to remember that fear is only what you make of it. You can't control what lurks in the shadows. But you can control how you deal with that fact. You can constantly try to protect yourself from hypothetical dangers. Or, you can choose to ignore them. You can choose to live your life dictated by your own rules. And you can tell your fear to go f**k himself. (DJ frowns.)

DJ: Now, that's not very nice to Fear, Gwen. He's a man with feelings too.

Gwen: Sure, whatever. But do you understand what I'm trying to say? (DJ grins.)

DJ: Oh, I more than understand it… (He stands up, his chest jutted out proudly.) I embrace it! (Gwen grins at him.)

Gwen: Great! That's what I like to hear.

DJ: I control my destiny! Me!

Gwen: That's the spirit!

DJ: Fear thinks he owns me. But I'm not gonna be fear's bitch for a second longer! From here on out, I'm my own bitch!

Gwen: Awesome! Wait, what? Okay, I can kind of see what you're trying to say with that, but you should seriously work on your phrasing. (DJ ignores her, too caught up in the moment.)

DJ: Think of all the things I can finally do now. (Gwen smiles and nods.)

Gwen: The possibilities are endless, DJ.

DJ: I can go camping with my friends! I mean, why should I be afraid of a little nature?!

Gwen: Exactly!

DJ: I can go climb a mountain! Why should I be afraid of adventure?

Gwen: You tell 'em, DJ!

DJ: I can go jump off a 40-story building! Why should be afraid of hitting solid concrete at a velocity of 200 miles per hour?

Gwen: Right! Wait, no… you shouldn't be doing that—

DJ: I can go beat up random people in the street! After all, why should I be afraid of the police and the legal repercussions?!

Gwen: Okay, no. You're overdoing it now. (DJ chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck.)

DJ: Yeah, sorry. I got a little carried away there. Heh heh.

Confession Cam

DJ: Man, I feel like a whole new person! It's like the old DJ never even existed. Poof. Gone. Just like that. And it's all thanks to Gwen! She showed me that there's more to life than I could've ever known. And I can't wait to experience all of it! Now, where should I start? Knife juggling might be a good one. Just to warm me up, y'know? Before we get to the actual exciting stuff. I CAN'T WAIT!

Gwen: I'm really glad that I was able to help DJ work through some of his issues, even if only temporarily. Of course, they were subsequently replaced by new ones, but it's a step in the right direction… I think. Maybe. Probably not.

End of Confessionals

Kitchen

(Ezekiel sits in a chair in the kitchen, humming to himself. He twirls a metal cheese grater in his hands as he tries to amuse himself, having sat there for over an hour. Suddenly, the door slams open, and in walks Chef, lugging the plastic table over his head and breathing heavily. Ezekiel grins.)

Ezekiel: There he is! Woo'w, that took you a while.

Chef: Yeah, no thanks to you! If you had gotten off your ass and helped, it woulda taken half as long. Why didn't you?!

Ezekiel: Trust me, Chef, I was going to. But then I foo'nd this dope cheese grater in one of your drawers, eh. (He holds up the cheese grater.) Needless to say, I've been enthralled ever since. (Ezekiel flips the metal contraption in his hands, grinning from ear to ear as he watches it spin. Chef gasps.)

Chef: YOU PUT THAT DOWN RIGHT NOW! (Ezekiel frowns.)

Ezekiel: Why? What's the big deal?

Chef: I've had that cheese grater since I was a young boy! It's like a father to me!

Ezekiel: So? What's the problem? I'm being gentle with it.

Chef: That doesn't matter! If you look at his body language, he obviously doesn't want to be touched. But you've got your filthy hands all over him anyway! How would you like it if I went and picked your dad up and started twirlin' him around in my hands without his or your permission?!

Ezekiel: My dad would probably like it, eh.

Chef: That's… disturbing. Just put it down, okay? (Ezekiel shrugs, and places the cheese grater back in the drawer.)

Ezekiel: So… what noo'w?

Chef: Hold on a second. I still gotta put this table in his proper position. (He puts the table down onto floor, before patting its surface lovingly.) There we go. Welcome home, my friend. We all really missed you. You, of all people, didn't deserve to go through something as awful as that. And it's all my fault. Don't try to deny it; you know it's true. I should've been keeping a closer eye out for intruders! So from here on, I'm never letting you out of my sight again. And that's a promise I intend to keep. Now c'mere and give me a hug! (He reaches down and passionately wraps his arms around the table.)

Ezekiel: So… do you just happen to have intimate relations with every inanimate object in here? (Chef scowls at him.)

Chef: No! That's ridiculous. (He pauses.) …That being said, that's my great grandmother you're sitting on. (He beckons to the chair Ezekiel is sitting in.)

Ezekiel: Whoa! Sorry. I didn't realize. Should I move, eh?

Chef: Nah, she's too senile to notice. It won't be an issue. Now, we need to get right down to business. We have a very important matter to discuss. You're probably wondering why I have this large flat-screen TV in here, Ezekiel. (He beckons to the TV standing next to him. Ezekiel gasps.)

Ezekiel: Whoa. So that's what a TV is? That's AWESOME!

Chef: You are so Amish you make me want to punch a bunny. Anyways, something went horribly wrong last night in the vote. We had the numbers. We had the goddamn numbers! And yet for SOME UNKNOWN REASON, Izzy still didn't go home! Why do you think that is?

Ezekiel: Uh… because we didn't have the numbers?

Chef: WRONG! If everyone in the alliance had stuck the plan, Izzy woulda been done for. The plan was f**king foolproof as f**k.

Ezekiel: But—

Chef: YOU ARE NOT SPEAKING RIGHT NOW! DO YOU SEE MY LIPS MOVING AND WORDS COMING OUT?! THAT MEANS THAT I'M SPEAKING, AND THEREFORE, YOU ARE NOT! OKAY?! (Ezekiel falls silent.) Now, this all leaves only one explanation. We have a dissenter among our ranks. Someone didn't follow the plan, for whatever reason. And whoever it is about two seconds away from the ass-whoopin' of their life. (He narrows his eyes at Ezekiel.) So I'm gonna ask you right now, Ezekiel… did you do as you were told? (Ezekiel, trembling, nods furiously.)

Ezekiel: Y-yes! Of course! (Chef narrows his eyes further.)

Chef: …We'll see about that. (He holds up a videocassette.) On this tape are the voting confessionals from last night. These will reveal for certain who the traitor was.

Ezekiel: Whoa! Hoo'w'd you get access to that, eh?

Chef: I sometimes work in the editing room, believe it or not. Specifically, I'm put in charge of moving the footage we wouldn't ever considering airing into the trash folder. In other words, all of Trent's confessionals.

Ezekiel: Woo'w. I never knew you were important like that. (Noticing Chef's scowl, he cringes.) Sorry… that didn't come oo't the way I wanted.

Chef: Yeah… whatever you say. (He turns to the TV.) Now, let's get this party started, shall we? (He slides the cassette into the player. The screen turns to static for a second, before switching to Ezekiel, sitting in the Confessional outhouse. Ezekiel gasps.)

Ezekiel: What the hell?! It's me! (He points to the screen.) There's another me on that screen! HOO'W IS THAT POSSIBLE?! WHAT IS HAPPENING?! IS THIS THE MATRIX?!

Chef: Shut up and watch! (Ezekiel falls silent.)

Ezekiel: That's one vote for Izzy, eh. (He puts the slip into the box.) Maybe Chef's plan actually will work. Ya never know. As long as Lindsay votes correctly, maybe we can pull this one oot!

(Static)

(Chef pauses the video, and nods with approval.)

Chef: All right. Your ass is safe for now. (Ezekiel wipes the bead of sweat away from his forehead.) So, if it wasn't you… then we know who the traitor was by default. But just to see for ourselves… (He presses "play" again. The TV screen switches to Lindsay.)

(Lindsay sits in the Confessional, scribbling feverishly on her slip of paper. She finally stops, examining her work. The blonde then holds her paper up for the camera, grinning. On it, there is a sloppily-drawn picture of a bird. Lindsay beams proudly.)

Lindsay: Look! I drew a house!

(The TV is about to switch to the next Confessional when suddenly the remote control smashes into the screen and punctures it, shutting the TV off and making the circuitry explode. Chef breathes heavily, his body heaving in anger, as he watches smoke billow out of the wreckage, the remote still deeply embedded in the shattered screen.)

Chef: You… backstabbing bitch… how could you… HOW COULD YOU?!

Ezekiel: Yo, Chef, how aboot we just calm down here? This is nothing to get worked up over.

Chef: NOTHING?! We just had an alliance member turn her back on us in the coldest and most merciless fashion! (He points to the TV.) Did you SEE her confessional?! She betrayed us like it was all fun and games to her!

Ezekiel: But… I wouldn't say she necessarily betrayed us, eh. I mean, it's not like she voted for someone in our alliance. She just voted for some guy named "house"!

Chef: But that's the whole problem! house's alliance poses no threat to us right now. Maybe in the future, if he can finally get his sh** together. No, it's Izzy who is the true danger. And you only get so many chances to vote her out, you know. We can't have people with a bunch of different agendas if we want to accomplish our goal. We need to be cohesive as a unit.

Ezekiel: Don't worry, Chef. I'll always be glad to be part of your unit.

Chef: And way to make it creepy. (He looks around.) Either way, we need to go find the blonde bitch, pronto. At the very least, we need to have a long talk with her about loyalty. Because obviously it means NOTHING to her. (He turns to Ezekiel.) Do you have any idea where she could be? (Ezekiel taps his chin.)

Ezekiel: I think I have an idea.

Outside the Cabins

(Tyler and Lindsay are lying on the picnic table outside the cabins, making out. Chef and Ezekiel walk up to them. They stand there in silence as they listen to the slurping noises coming from the couple.)

Ezekiel: Woo'w. They're really getting into it, eh.

Chef: And now they're gonna get the f**k out. (With that, he walks over to the picnic table and grabs Tyler by the back of his shirt, before pulling him up off of Lindsay. There is a loud squelch, as the couple's lips break apart. Chef then tosses Tyler to the ground. The jock rolls around on the grass, still puckering his lips for a few seconds, before he finally realizes where he is. Tyler jumps upward in confusion. He then turns and glares at Chef.)

Tyler: Yo! What the hell was that for, man?! Not cool! Couldn't you see I was busy?

Chef: Hey, don't get mad at me. I just did you a favor. You were about 5 seconds away from becoming a father, as far as I could tell.

Tyler: So?! What's wrong with that? I've always wanted to be a dad! (He shrugs.) Getting pregnant wouldn't be that bad. It's only a couple weeks, anyways. And then I give birth, and bam! I've got a new basketball! Sounds like a sweet deal to me. (He grins. Chef stares at him.)

Chef: Boy, you need to go take a goddamn sex education class. (He turns to Lindsay.) Meanwhile, you're comin' with us.

Lindsay: Okay! Where are we going? To the mall?

Chef: Uh… sure. We're gonna shop till we drop. Now get over here, bitch. I aint got all day.

Lindsay: Eeeee! (She jumps up off the table and runs over to Ezekiel and Chef.)

Tyler: Hell no! You two cockblockers are not jacking my girl like that!

Chef: Hmm. It looks like we just did. (He smirks.) Wow. That must really hurt your manhood. Getting your girl stolen by a 45-year-old and a homeschooled Amish freak.

Tyler: Fine. You wanna take her? Then you gotta fight me first!

Chef: Please. I already humiliated one white boy tonight. I really don't want to have to do it again.

Tyler: The only person getting humiliated is… you! HA! Gotcha! Killer comeback, baby! (He raises his fists.) Now put 'em up! Let's go! I'm not stopping 'til I get my Lindsay back. And nothing's gonna distract me from that mission! (Chef thinks for a moment, before getting an idea.)

Chef: Say, Tyler, remember that pelican you were talking about this afternoon? The one that you saw after the immunity challenge? (Tyler lowers his fists just slightly, his eyes wide.)

Tyler: Y-yes? What about it?

Chef: Uh… I think I saw it just now. It flew off into the forest. (Tyler lowers his fists even more.)

Tyler: No way… could it be? After all these years, you've finally returned? (He frowns.) Hold on. How do I know you're not just saying this to distract me?

Chef: Because… uh…like you, I respect the sanctity and honor of sports. And chasing after pelicans is, at its core, a sport like any other. Perhaps the finest sport there is. Therefore, I want to help you in your pursuit. (Tyler narrows his eyes.)

Tyler: A worthy explanation. However, if you really saw the same pelican as me… what did it look like? What distinct details did it have?

Chef: Uh… it was big. And it had wings. And a beak. (Tyler gasps.)

Tyler: YOU DID SEE IT! (He runs over to Chef and grabs him by the collar.) Which way did it go?! TELL ME!

Chef: Uh… that way. (He doesn't actually point in any direction, but Tyler beams nonetheless.)

Tyler: Thanks, man! I appreciate it. Now LET'S DO THIS! (He points into the forest.) I'm coming for you, pelican! You're gonna be all mine! And once I've got you, I'm gonna hop on your back and ride you into the sunset! I don't care if it's 11:30 at night! BOOYAH! (He then sprints off into the night, cheering at the top of his lungs. Ezekiel watches as he goes, before turning to Chef, a sad expression on his face.)

Ezekiel: Well, that sucks. A pelican was right here, literally ten yards away from me, and I didn't even get to see it. You really should've pointed it oo't to me, Chef. I mean, it's not like you weren't aware that I'm a major bird enthusiast, eh.

Chef: How was I supposed to know that?

Ezekiel: Uh, did you not hear my first line I ever had on this show? (Chef thinks for a moment, before rolling his eyes.)

Chef: Oh, ha ha. What a great reference. Anyways, it doesn't matter that you didn't see the pelican, because it wasn't actually there. I just said that to make the idiot go away. And it worked like a charm.

Ezekiel: Ohhhhhhh. (He grins.) Damn. You sure do know hoo'w to play dirty, Chef. I never woulda thought of something so deliciously evil. (He shakes his head.) Lying to a man aboot his favorite pelican. What wonderfully fiendish plan will you think of next?

Chef: Finding a way for you to stop talking. Now that would make be a scientific breakthrough. (He looks over at Lindsay.) All right, let's go. We aint got a lot of time and you've got a lot of explaining to do.

Lindsay: Wait, hold on. Before we go to the mall, can I stop by my house really quickly? I left my purse there. (Chef scowls at her.)

Chef: Bitch, don't you EVER bring up the word "house" around me again. Now let's GO! (He then grabs her by the wrist and begins dragging her away, with Ezekiel following along.)

Kitchen

(Chef slams open the door and pulls Lindsay inside. He points to the chair.)

Chef: Sit.

Lindsay: Um, I don't think this is the mall.

Chef: No. No it is not! Well, I guess you could actually say it is, considering this is the place where I maul the bitches who betrayed me. (He grins at the camera.) No time is a bad time for a pun. That's my motto. (He turns back to Lindsay.) So sit your ass down. (Lindsay shrugs and sits down on the chair. Ezekiel walks in, sees Lindsay, and frowns.)

Ezekiel: Yo, Chef. She kinda stole my seat, eh.

Chef: It's not your seat, fool. Get over it. (Ezekiel looks around the room, but there appears to be no other chairs.)

Ezekiel: So then where am I supposed to sit?

Chef: I think you can stand for five minutes.

Ezekiel: Are you sure you don't got another chair over in the shed or—

Chef: ARE YOU MORBIDLY OBESE?! ARE YOU MISSING BOTH YOUR LEGS?! NO?! THEN YOU CAN LEARN TO F**KING STAND! (Ezekiel falls silent. Chef turns back to Lindsay.) Now, back to you… care to explain yourself?

Lindsay: Sure! My name is Lindsay. My dream is to become a model. I love shopping, boys, and buying stuff. I speak two languages- English and American. I have a puppy whose name is—

Chef: That's not what I meant by "explain yourself"! I was talking about what you did last night!

Lindsay: Huh? I don't get it.

Chef: Then let me recount it all for you, to refresh your memory! You agreed to join our alliance, and I immediately told you that the plan was to vote for Izzy. Obviously it was a very last-minute arrangement, but I tried to make it very clear numerous times to you that that was what you needed to do. And yet, you still chose to disobey me. And as a result of your rebellious behavior, Izzy is still here, most likely plotting the next way she can ruin my life! So tell me: what were you thinking?! Were you thinking!? And if, on the off chance, you were, indeed, thinking, to what extent was said thinking altered by whatever synthetic, psychoactive drug you obviously took beforehand?

Lindsay: Wait… I'm confused. Since when am I in an alliance with you guys?

Chef: Since we agreed to it on the cruise boat! A few hours ago! Don't you remember?

Lindsay: I don't know… I thought I was in an alliance with, like, Heather.

Chef: That was f**king season 1! Now stop playing dumb with me and answer my questions, or I swear I'll whoop your ass from here to next Wednesday! (Lindsay frowns and crosses her arms.)

Lindsay: Okay, this is like, soooo not fun. I totally would not have signed up for this if you hadn't said we were going shopping.

Chef: The only thing you're shopping for is an ass-whooping, free of charge! (Ezekiel raises his hand.)

Ezekiel: Y'know, Chef, I think you might need to come up with a new threat. While threatening to whoop peoples' asses was initially a pretty killer line, it's gotten sorta stale after all these years. It's not quite packing the same punch that it used to. You might wanna shake it up a bit. Just a suggestion.

Chef: You're not helpin' here! Now stay out of this or I'll make the ass-whooping a 2-for-1 special! (Ezekiel shakes his head.)

Ezekiel: I'm just not feeling it, Chef. I wasn't even the slightest bit intimidated just noo'w, eh. I mean, sure, the idea of anyone aside from Taylor Swift forcefully and repeatedly smacking my buttocks is not a pleasing thought to me. But I've just heard it so many times noo'w that it's lost its effect. I mean, you say it to everyone. Besides, we know you won't ever actually go through with it. You never do. Therefore, both the "ass" and the "whooping" in this scenario are more figurative than they are literal. Together, they form an abstract concept rather than a tangible threat. Thus, the recipient of the threat is not nearly as frightened by it as he/she should be. And so I really think that if you changed things up once in a while, it would have a profound effect on your ability to force information oo't of people. (Chef places his hands on his hips.)

Chef: Fine. If you're so quick to judge, what's your great idea?

Ezekiel: Hmm… Perhaps you could threaten to give the person a look of strong disapproval.

Chef: No way! That's ridiculously lame!

Ezekiel: It's not lame, Chef. In fact, I'd say there's nothing a man fears more than the idea of disappointing a fellow man. You see, we as men always want to please one another and make one another proo'd, eh. It's just in our blood. And thus, the thought of losing the acceptance of another man is horrifying to most men. To put it simply, men need other men to survive. And that's why a look of strong disapproval from a man, especially a very well-respected man such as yourself, can have such a profoo'nd and devastating effect, and why it is therefore such an effective threat tactic to have at your disposal. (Chef stares at him for a long time.)

Chef: That was literally the most homosexual argument you could have given for its merits. (Ezekiel frowns.)

Ezekiel: Come on noo'w, Chef. Don't be like that, eh. Gay rights just had a huge step forward this past month, and noo'w you're trying to take us back to the 1950s.

Chef: No. I'm just stating an objective observation. And that was objectively the gayest thing I've ever heard!

Ezekiel: Oh yeah, because talking aboot touching other dudes' butts is sooooo straight, right?

Chef: Why you little—(As the two argue, Lindsay suddenly morphs into her smart persona. She rolls her eyes at them, before heading towards the door. Lindsay grabs the handle and pulls, but the door won't budge. Cursing under her breath, she turns back to Chef and Ezekiel. Chef notices her by the door, and smirks.)

Chef: Trying to make your escape while I was distracted, huh? Not gonna happen. I made sure to lock the door and stash the key in my pants, a place that nobody would ever want to get anywhere close to. So you're not leaving until you a. give us a legitimate explanation for why you decided to screw us over tonight and 2. promise that you'll never do it again and that you'll give me a back massage sometime to make up for it. So just sit back down! (Smart Lindsay stands there for a moment, thinking. Then she walks over to Chef and Ezekiel and stands right in front of them. Chef glares at her.)

Chef: What are you doing? Did you not hear me? Well then let me reiterate for… f-for… f-f-f-f-for… f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f… whoa. (He stares in shock at Lindsay, who has lifted up her shirt and bra, exposing her chest to the both of them. Ezekiel and Chef stand there, their mouths hanging open, frozen in place. Lindsay looks sternly at Chef.)

Lindsay: Give me the key, Chef.

Chef: The… the what? (He continues to stare, his eyes glazed over.)

Lindsay: I said KEY, you neanderthal! NOW! (Slowly, in a daze, Chef reaches into his pants, and pulls out a silver key. Lindsay snatches it out of his hands. Then she pulls her shirt back down and strides over to the door. She quickly unlocks it before slamming it open and exiting the kitchen. Chef and Ezekiel, meanwhile, continue to stand frozen in space, staring into nothingness.)

Confession Cam

Chef: Uh, anyways, I think that was a fairly productive meeting. From what I can tell, Lindsay is, uh, back on board. So yeah. The alliance is stronger than ever. Heh heh.

Ezekiel: Eh, to be honest, seein' Lindsay's bare chest wasn't that big of deal to me. You see, back home, I'm in charge of milking all the coo'ws out on the farmyard. (He grins proudly.) Yep, I've seen my fair share of boobs, all right.

Lindsay (in her smart persona): Obviously, I could have chosen to give Chef the explanation he wanted in exchange for my release, revealing to him the prodigious number of strategic fallacies involved in having only a two-person voting bloc among a group of 12, as well as pointing out the sheer lack of pathetically simple intellect it would take to even consider such a plan, before telling him that he and Ezekiel are actually nothing more than a laughably brainless pair of self-aggrandizing misogynists who in reality represent the nadir of human evolution on both a physical and mental scale… but that was too much effort. Sometimes, it's better to just use your assets to your advantage. Well, that's your lesson for today from Smart Lindsay. And now, back to your regularly scheduled programming. (She morphs back into normal Lindsay. Lindsay looks around, confused.) Is this the mall?

End of Confessionals

Cabin

Courtney: All right, so I have my job. Keep Trent at arm's length. Bridgette, you have yours, which is to find Geoff and fill him in on what we discussed. (She turns to Noah.) It looks like you need a job, however. (Noah looks up from his book.)

Noah: No I don't.

Courtney: Why not?

Noah: I've already got one.

Courtney: Really? Then what is it?

Noah: I'm the secretary of the alliance.

Courtney: That's cute. (She rolls her eyes.) This isn't middle school student council, Noah. Besides, everyone knows the "secretary" never does sh**. It's the one position in student government that's completely unnecessary.

Noah: Exactly. Now that we're on the same page, I called it.

Courtney: No! We're not going to have electoral positions in the alliance! That creates an oppressive hierarchy.

Bridgette: Didn't you call yourself the president just a few minutes ago?

Courtney: We're getting off topic! What we need to do is start figuring out how we're actually going to get Katie out. The way I see it, we're at a deadlock. It's a 4-4 tie between our alliance and theirs. They have Katie, Trent, Cody, and Tyler. We have the three of us and Geoff. That leaves Lindsay, Ezekiel, and Izzy in the middle. I consider them the wildcards. Whichever alliance comes out on top is going to have to somehow utilize the wildcards, however it hard it may be. So we have to start talking to them. Seeing where they're at strategically. (She turns to Noah.) I want you to get us started with that, Noah. Can you guess which person I want you to try and sway?

Noah: No.

Courtney: Yes.

Noah: No.

Courtney: Yes!

Noah: No!

Courtney: C'mon, Noah! You have to! She's your girlfriend! How hard can it be?!

Noah: Very hard, believe it or not! It's hard enough as it is just to get Izzy to talk to me in general, let alone about strategy of all topics!

Bridgette: Now that just doesn't make any sense. Most girls dream about a guy who wants to actually have a conversation with them.

Noah: Well, Izzy isn't your normal girl, as you might be aware. Conversation bores her. She's much more interested in pursuing… a more "physical" relationship with me, if you will.

Courtney: Ew. (Noah shrugs.)

Noah: It is what it is. I'm an 18-year-old male. I'm not complaining. Obviously, I wish we had a little more depth to our relationship, but you can only ask for so much.

Bridgette: I get it. You don't want to ruin what you have. But still, can you at least try to approach the subject with her? We'd appreciate it. (Noah sighs.)

Noah: I just don't think you people understand. Talking strategy with Izzy is like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. And that round hole is sitting on about 200 tons of high explosives. It's not going to turn out well.

Courtney: I think you just need to man up, Noah. Start wearing the pants in the relationship. Firmly grab Izzy by the arm and tell her "we're going to talk strategy, or I'm breaking up with you".

Noah: Cool. That's totally not a dick move at all. (Bridgette places a hand on Noah's shoulder.)

Bridgette: You don't have to do that, Noah. But just see if an opportunity arises. Maybe there's a way you can make the idea of strategy sound fun to Izzy.

Noah: How do I do that? I don't even find it remotely fun.

Bridgete: I don't know, maybe you can tell her it's to save the world from, uh…. a mutant army of Uzi–wielding clones of Matthew McConaughey. Sorry, that was a stupid example.

Noah: Nah, that pretty much sounds like Izzy's sort of thing. (He sighs.) Look, I'll try. But I can't make any guarantees that anything will be accomplished. So while I'm at it, maybe you can go test the field with Ezekiel, Courtney.

Courtney: Yeah… that will not be happening. (Before Noah can respond, the door slams open, and Izzy steps in.)

Izzy: Hey guys! (She waves at them cheerily.) Guess what? I just finished building my titanium underground bunker for when the mutant Matthew McConaughey apocalypse arrives! Obama told me it's coming any day now, believe it or not. But if it all went according to plan, I'll be just fine. Based on the blueprints alone, the bunker should be sturdy enough to withstand up to 300 full-size Matthew McConaugheys bearing down on it from above! Isn't that great? (She suddenly notices Noah standing with Bridgette and Courtney.) Oh. Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt your drug deal, Noah.

Courtney: What the..,?! Why do you think that's what we're doing?! (Izzy scratches her head.)

Izzy: Why else would Noah be in here? He doesn't tend to willingly interact with people unless they're his customers. (She pauses.) Or they're the naked marble sculpture of Arnold Schwarzenegger he keeps hidden under his bed. Although that's not really a person, I guess. But that doesn't stop Noah from trying to have intellectual conversations with it. (Bridgette glances over at Noah in confusion. The bookworm shakes his head.)

Noah: Don't ask me. (Izzy turns to Noah.)

Izzy: So then why are you here, Noah? If it's not involving drugs or Arnold Schwarzenegger, I have no clue. (Noah notices Bridgette and Courtney both looking at him expectantly. The know-it-all sighs, and turns back to Izzy.)

Noah: Well, Izzy, you actually were just the person we wanted to see. These two wonderful ladies and I are discussing plans for a strategic alliance, and we would love for you to join. (Izzy nods.)

Izzy: Smart man. It definitely isn't a bad idea to team up and figure out a strategy before the impending wave of Matthew McConaugheys descends upon us from the heavens in our final reckoning. We can stockpile the supplies we each individually scrounge up. We're going to need a lot of them. After all, it's gonna be a long battle if we want to emerge victorious. (Noah glances at Bridgette and Courtney, who shake their head at him. He slowly turns back to Izzy.)

Noah: Uh… that sounds like a great idea, but that's actually not the type of alliance we're forming. (Izzy looks at him strangely.)

Izzy: What other type of alliance is there?!

Noah: We're forming an alliance in this game. We plan to all vote as a bloc, so we can—

Izzy: All right, I'm bored. Let's go make out! (Before Noah can protest, she grabs him and hurls him out the window, before jumping out after him, hollering wildly. Bridgette and Courtney glance at each other.)

Bridgette: You know, we may just have to resort to Ezekiel.

Courtney: I'm not quite ready to stoop to that level, thank you very much.

Bridgette: Why not? Ezekiel is actually of one of the most loyal people in the game. Almost to a fault.

Courtney: But Bridgette… he's Ezekiel.

Bridgette: That's not an argument.

Courtney: I mean, I want to take out Katie at all costs, but at the same time, I have to have some class when it comes to whom I associate with. (Bridgette stares at her.)

Bridgette: I do feel as though I have an obligatory comment to make here, but I will choose not to.

Courtney: I appreciate it.

Confession Cam

Bridgette: Now that I'm in here, I think I can say it… YOU DATE TRENT, WOMAN! (She takes a deep breath.) Sorry. But it just needed to be said.

Noah: Well, hopefully that convinced the ladies that there isn't much hope in forming any sort of alliance with Izzy. And you know what? I'm fine with that. Izzy doesn't need to get involved. I don't really want her to. This way, she's much less likely to be a target. (He taps his chin.) Now that I think about it, it's not that bad of a strategy to not be a part of an alliance. Nobody from either alliance will ever want to target you, because they'll be so focused on trying to take out each other. So you can just slip right on by without ever getting noticed. Hmm. And maybe that's been Izzy's plan all along! Maybe her strategy is to not have a strategy. Maybe she's actually doing everything deliberately, in order to keep herself from appearing as a threat to the rest of us! (He pauses.) Nope, she's just insane. But still, not a bad position to be in.

Izzy: Noah and his gal pals were acting pretty suspicious in there, if you ask me. Almost as if they were trying to hide something from me. But what? (She suddenly gasps.) Wait a minute. Of course! They must be secretly in cahoots with Matthew McConaughey, and they don't want me to know! They're all a part of his master plan! I should've known. It was obvious, if you looked at all the evidence. I mean, none of them have even built their own titanium bunker. They obviously aren't worried about the upcoming doomsday. But you know what? Good for them! Better to be the last people remaining in a world ravaged by the identical armed spawn of a well-respected actor perhaps best known for his Academy Award-winning performance in the film Dallas Buyers Club, than to be one of the countless corpses crushed into forgotten history under the sole of his custom designer leather sneakers.

End of Confessionals

(Eventually, everyone heads off to bead, and the cabin lights switch off. The moon slowly rises into the sky, as the night grows quieter, and an eerie calm settles over the camp. Suddenly, Chris steps into grassy clearing outside the cabins, holding a single candle, its thin light illuminating his face. He smiles eerily at the camera.)

Chris: Ah, midnight… the darkest hour. It is at this time that the shadows begin to overtake the light, and your surroundings become consumed by impenetrable darkness. Places that you thought you knew well suddenly become unfamiliar, difficult to traverse, impossible to understand. We as humans naturally fear the unknown; our hatred of the dark stems from this fear. We cannot anticipate what hides in wait when we cannot see it. So we try to hide from the night, hide from the darkness, and most importantly, hide from our fear. (The host begins to walk slowly, still holding the candle beside his face.)

Chris: And yet, somehow, I personally feel the most comfortable at a time like this. There's a certain tranquility about the darkness, a certain safety that the shadows give me. I believe that if you can learn to overcome your innate fear of the dark, you can unlock a whole new world you never knew existed. All you have to do is just give your eyes some time to adjust- and suddenly, what was once the unknown becomes strangely familiar, like an old friend you haven't seen in a long time. That's how I feel as I walk through the night right now. I am not afraid. On the contrary, I embrace the darkness. It envelops me, not in a threatening manner, but in a loving embrace. I am one with the night, and I never want it to let me go. With only a candle as my guide, I wander further into the deepest realms of the never-ending sea of black that stretches across my vision. But I do not fear, as the darkness will guid—(Suddenly, Chris trips on a rock, and flies forward, smashing face-first into the ground. The candle flies out of his hands, lands on the ground next to him, and immediately sets fire to his shorts. Chris jumps up, screaming, as his clothes become entirely enveloped in flames.)

Chris: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Twenty minutes later…

Chris: Well, that's the last time we ever try to get ambitious with the opening monologue. (He now stands in his underwear. His clothes lay on the ground next to him, nothing more than a couple of black scorch marks. Chris turns to Chef and nods.) All right, let's wake the campers up.

Chef: Aren't you going to put on clothes first?

Chris: I could. (He turns back to the camera and flashes a smile.) Sorry for the inconvenience, folks! Now, we're going to get started by—

Chef: Wait, so you're not going to put on clothes?! (Chris turns back to Chef.)

Chris: Chef, that was my sexiest shirt and my sexiest pair of shorts that just got destroyed. By the time I find a new outfit even close to that level of sexiness, it'll be morning.

Chef: But you just wear the exact same clothes every day! What's the difference? (Chris crosses his arms.)

Chris: Oh. So that's how you view my wardrobe, huh? It's all just the same to you? Well, WE CAN'T ALL FIT INTO EVERY DRESS LIKE YOU, CHEF! SOME OF US DON'T HAVE THAT BODY TYPE!

Chef: All I'm saying is that it might be a little unprofessional of you to be hosting a television show in your underwear! (Chris shrugs.)

Chris: It's fine. It's "business casual", Chef. Everyone does it from time to time. Perfectly acceptable in the biz. Now how about you get out of my flex zone and go get the loudspeakers already? (Chef walks away, shaking his head. Chris turns back to the camera, grinning.) Anyways, as you can probably guess, today's challenges are all horror-themed. It's become somewhat of a tradition here on Total Drama to do it at least once a season. Why? I don't know. It just is. But this time, we're taking it to the next level! The previous horror challenges may have been scary, but nothing will prepare the campers for what we have in store for them today. So buckle your seatbelts and bring an extra pair of underwear, because it's gonna be a crazy ride! (Chef walks back over, carrying a boombox over his shoulder. He sets it down on the picnic table outside the cabin. Chef then looks at Chris and flinches, before scowling.)

Chef: I'm telling you, Chris. You gotta put on some pants. Or at least a pair of underwear that isn't made out of spandex. There isn't a single viewer out there that wants to see that! (Chris ignores him.)

Chris: Keeping with the horror theme, we decided it would only make sense that we start by scaring our campers awake. That will surely get them in the mood for the festivities. (He pats the boombox.) Through these speakers, I'm going to play a track that sounds like a murderous psycho is attacking yours truly. After all, what's scarier to the campers than the idea of me, their beloved host and pseudo father figure, dying a grisly and excruciating death? Nothing, that's the answer. They're probably going to run out, screaming and crying and pleading with the killer to spare me and kill them instead- and that's when they'll see me alive and figure out that they've been punk'd. It'll be hilarious, and a perfect start to the day. Well, not for them, but… it's not like they mean anything to anyone.

Chef: Wow. You really are a wonderful father figure.

Chris: Thank you, Chef. I know. (He claps his hands together.) All right, what are we waiting for? Hit it! (Chef presses "play" on his remote control. The stereo system crackles to life. It is silent for a moment. Then, suddenly, Chris's voice starts blasting through the speakers, loud enough to make the boombox vibrate.)

Chris (on tape): Are we rolling? We are? Oh sh**. (There is the sound of papers shuffling. Chris then clears his throat.) Okay, we'll start from the top…. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU MURDEROUS PSYCHO! AND MOST IMPORTANTLY, STAY AWAY FROM MY BELOVED CAMPERS WHO I LOVE SO VERY MUCH! (A chainsaw lets loose a loud vroom in the background. Chris screams.) OH NO! HE'S GOT A CHAINSAW! THE QUINTESSENTIAL MURDERER'S WEAPON! INEFFICIENT AND NOT THE MOST PORTABLE IN REAL WORLD SCENARIOS, BUT STRONGLY THREATENING NONETHELESS! SOMEBODY HELP ME! ANYONE! AHHHHHHHHHHHH!

(Chris looks expectantly towards the cabin. However, nobody comes out. He glances at Chef.)

Chris: Why aren't they coming out?

Chef: Probably because they don't care.

Chris: Don't be silly. Heh heh.

Chris: OH NO! HE'S GOT ME! THE KILLER'S GOT ME, PEOPLE! (The chainsaw buzzes loudly again.) OH NO! HE'S MURDERING ME! I'M GETTING MURDERED! AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! SOMEBODY! ANYBODY! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

(Still, no one comes out. Chris frowns, and walks over to the boombox. He cranks up the volume to max, so that the ground is literally shaking.)

Chris: That should do the trick.

Chris: I'M ALMOST DEAD! HIS CHAINSAW IS SPLITTING MY ENTIRE BODY IN HALF! IT HURTS SO MUCH! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS, HUH?! FOR BEING SUCH AN INSPIRATIONAL MENTOR TO A GROUP OF YOUNG, MISUNDERSTOOD TEENS?! WELL, FINE! SO BE IT! I CAN DIE KNOWING THAT I PAVED ALL OF THEIR LIVES TOWARDS A MORE HOPEFUL FUTURE! FOR THE FINAL TIME: MCLEAN, OUT! (The tape then finally shuts off.)

(Chris looks around. Nobody has emerged from the cabin. It sits just as peacefully as before. The host slowly turns to Chef and scowls.)

Chris: These campers must be very deep sleepers.

Chef: You and I both know there's no way they slept through that. (Chris continues to scowl. Chef is silent for a moment. Then he glances back at Chris.) So what do we do now?

Chris: Well, as a wise man once said: if at first you don't succeed, try, try again.

Chef: Chris… I really don't think that's the solution.

Chris: I'm not asking for your professional opinion here, Hatchet!

Chef: So you really want me to—?

Chris: YES! Do it! (Chef sighs and rewinds the tape, before pressing play again.)

Chris (on tape): Are we rolling? We are? Oh sh**. Okay, we'll start from the top… AHHHHHHHHH! GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU MURDEROUS...

(As the tape plays again, Chris notices some slight activity coming from inside the cabin. He grins.)

Chris: It's working this time! (The speakers continue to blast at max volume.)

Chris: I'M ALMOST DEAD! HIS CHAINSAW IS SPLITTING MY ENTIRE BODY IN HALF! IT HURTS SO MUCH! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS, HUH?! FOR BEING SUCH AN INSPIRATIONAL MENTOR TO A GROUP OF YOUNG, MISUNDERSTOOD TEENS?! WELL, FINE! SO BE IT! I CAN DIE KNOWING THAT I PAVED ALL OF THEIR LIVES TOWARDS A MORE HOPEFUL FUTURE! FOR THE FINAL TIME: MCLEAN, OUT! (The tape shuts off once more.)

(Chris looks towards the cabin, and can hear more activity from within. Still, nobody comes out. He whips around to face Chef.)

Chris: AGAIN! (Shaking his head, Chef rewinds the tape and hits "play".)

Chris: Are we rolling? We are? Oh sh**. Okay, we'll start from the…

(The tape continues to play once more, so loud that it is almost causing sonic waves. Finally, the door to the girls' side of the cabin slams open, and Bridgette and Courtney step out onto the porch, groaning and rubbing the sleep out of their eyes. Chris beams.)

Chris: There we go! (He waves to them.) Hey ladies! Nice to see you. Shocked to see that I'm actually perfectly fine? That's because you've just been punk'd! HA! That's right! I'm not even dead!

Courtney (her teeth clenched): I think I can change that.

Chris: Please don't. (The tape shuts off.) AGAIN! (Chef, now sitting down with his head in his hands, rewinds and hits play.)

Chris: Are we rolling? We are? Oh sh**. Okay, we'll start from the…

(As the recording goes again, four more people exit the cabin, being Katie, Lindsay, Cody, and Trent.)

Katie: What the hell are you doing, Mclean?! (Chris grins at them.)

Chris: Ah, four more! You guys look shocked. But no, you're not hallucinating. Because there isn't actually a killer tearing me limb from limb like you thought! It's just a fake recording! You've just been PUNK'D!

Trent: Cool, we can see that. Now can you please shut if off?

Cody: Yeah, man! The ladies don't deserve this sort of abuse!

Chris: Shut it off? No way! I still have to prank a few more people.

Katie: You're not "pranking" anyone! We all could tell from the moment it started playing that it wasn't real. Your acting is atrocious! It's literally approaching Tommy Wiseau levels, you idiot. You put the weirdest f**king emphasis on syllables, almost like you're struggling to comprehend how normal humans speak the English language. Half the time we can hear you asking for Chef to feed you your next line! We thought if we ignored you, you'd just give up. NOW GIVE IT UP!

Chris: Don't lie to me, Katie. You say that now that you know it was just a prank. But I saw the look in your eyes when you first stepped out of that cabin. You thought I had died. And thus, you yourself were slowly beginning to die inside- you had lost your will to go on. A natural reaction, of course. But I'm alive, so you can breathe easy. Now how about the four of you get out of the doorway and take a seat while we wait for the others? (Grumbling to themselves, the four start to walk away. The tape shuts off. Chef doesn't even need the signal from Chris to start it up again. Courtney groans as Chris's voice starts blasting through the air again.)

Courtney: Are you seriously just going to keep replaying this at max volume until everyone comes out?! That's ridiculous! (Chris's eyes glint confidently.)

Chris: Maybe so. But it's working.

Bridgette: Knocking on the door would work too, you know. (Chris stares at her.) What?

Chris: Wow. Wow. I can't believe you even suggested that. Like, c'mon. Knocking on a door?! How f**king mainstream do you want me to be? (Bridgette rolls her eyes. Noah, meanwhile, steps out of the cabin, looking completely bored.)

Noah: Excellent choice to wake us up with sound bites from your latest failed film production, Chris. Maybe tomorrow we can get a taste of Chef's shitty new mixtape. (Chef jumps up at this.)

Chef: SHITTY?! Did you really just say that?! Aw, hell no! YOU DID NOT JUST SAY THAT! MY MIXTAPE IS DOPE AF! You aint never heard a man spit bars this sick! (He turns to the camera.) It's filthy, I swear. And it's in stores on August 14th! Pick it up at your local gas station's minimart.

Chris: Ooo… I know what I'm doing with my August 14th now.

Noah: I'm pretty it doesn't take all day to pick up an album. Are you really that desperate to fill up your pathetically empty schedule with something? (Chris turns to him.)

Chris: Noah! I didn't even see you there. Look! I'm alive! You thought I died, didn't you? Ha! That's classic. But no. You see, Noah, you made a key mistake: you forgot that I'm immortal. And as a result, you've just been PUNK'D! Haha! See that? I beat the master at his own game.

Noah: You sure got me, Chris. You punk'd me hard. I'm so ashamed. (He walks over to the table and returns to reading. Chris turns to Katie, sneering.)

Chris: See? And you said I didn't successfully prank anyone!

Katie: Noah is obviously being sarcastic. Look, it doesn't even make sense at this point for anyone to believe you! Not when you keep replaying the track! Like, you can't keep dying over and over again! And by the way, where are your clothes—(Suddenly, the door slams open, and Ezekiel and Tyler sprint out. Ezekiel holds a baseball bat in his hands, while Tyler has a golf club.)

Ezekiel: WHERE IS HE?! WHERE'S CHRIS'S KILLER, EH?! WE WANNA FIND HIM!

Tyler: Yeah! And when we do, we're gonna take that killer and, uh…and… uh…. kill him!

Ezekiel: DAMN STRAIGHT! I mean, what kind of sick murderer keeps killing his victim over and over again?! Don't you think once is enough?

Tyler: I think it is!

Ezekiel: Me too! NOW WHERE'D HE GO, EH?! (They quickly look over at the boombox sitting on the table, where the sound is coming from. Ezekiel points wildly in that direction.) OVER THERE! (The two run over to the table and glance down at the contraption in confusion. Then Tyler gasps, and points to the boombox.)

Tyler: No way! I can't believe it!

Chris: Yep! It was all just one big pra—

Tyler: The killer and Chris must be inside of this weird metal box thingy!

Ezekiel: Oh no! We have to get him oo't! (Tyler and Ezekiel slowly turn and nod at each other, before raising their weapons high above their heads. Chris screams.)

Chris: Wait! No! STOP! That's not—(But it's too late. Tyler and Ezekiel begin smashing the stereo repeatedly. Each hit creates a new dent in the surface. Slowly, the sound becomes more and more muddled, until finally, the boombox explodes, setting fire to the table. Chris sighs.) Great. There's 4000 dollars down the drain. (Tyler and Ezekiel admire their work, as the flames slowly engulf the table. Tyler turns to Ezekiel, grinning with pride.)

Tyler: We did it, man. (Ezekiel nods.)

Ezekiel: Yep. That killer didn't stand a chance against our manly powers of good. (He shrugs.) It's no big deal. It's just who we are. When there's a job that needs to be done, we do it. No questions asked. When Chris is in trouble, it's our job to save him. And we did. (He shrugs again.) Just part of being badasses, I guess. Which we are. We're badasses, eh.

Tyler: No question. (Chris, meanwhile, smirks over at Katie.)

Chris: …You were saying? (Katie just smirks back at him.)

Katie: Cool. Your prank worked. Hope you have fun replacing that speaker of yours. And the table. (Chris stops smiling.)

Confession Cam

Tyler: Just another day in the life of Tyler. Saving lives, stopping bad buys… and looking superb while doing so. (He examines the golf club in his hands.) Now if only I could figure out where I got this thing…

End of Confessionals

Chris: Well, looks like you're all here, so we can proceed. Just now, you all got a taste of what true terror feels like. But, as you soon realized, it was all nothing more than an illusion. Your fear came from nothing more than a CD. (He holds up a CD.) This little piece of… uh… whatever CD's are made out of… yeah let's go with that… anyways, it was still able to legitimately scare you.

Noah: No, I think that was the work of your new outfit. (He beckons to Chris, who is still standing in only his underwear. Chris frowns.)

Chris: What? I've decided I'm more comfortable this way.

Courtney: No. That is not an acceptable answer. You CANNOT host this show in your underpants!

Chris: Watch me, woman. You should just be happy I even wore underpants.

Courtney: Why should I have to be happy about that? That should just be a given! (Izzy raises her hands.)

Izzy: I personally vote no underpants. (Chris grins.)

Chris: Hear that, Courtney? She wants the full Mclean. Maybe we should see what the group as a whole prefers.

Courtney: Shut up! We are NOT putting this issue up to a vote. If that makes me a communist, so be it.

Katie: Yeah. What she said. Seriously, Chris, it's disgusting. You're literally 60.

Chris: I'm 39, woman! (He sighs.) But fine. Clothes it is. I admit, my nipples are definitely not dealing well with the cold night air right now.

Cody: So are you going to go get dressed, and then come back?

Chris: Ha! You must think I'm some sort of plebe. No, I have a much easier solution. (He snaps his fingers, and two interns run over to Chris, one carrying a pair of shorts, the other carrying a shirt. The one with the shorts gets down on his knees and starts putting Chris's leg through the hole, while the shirt carrier begins putting Chris's left arm through the sleeve.)

Bridgette: You've got to be kidding me.

Chris: I kid you not. I don't intend to expend any unnecessary energy when I don't have to. So I always have a couple of interns on hand to tend to my every whim. (He sighs.) That being said, the act of having to snap my fingers was more effort than I wanted to put in to signal to them, but hey, it's Tuesday. Tuesday is my exercise day.

Courtney: I think I've figured it out, Chris. You are, quite literally, everything that is wrong with society.

Chris: Aww… thanks. (He chuckles. Chris then beckons to the intern who is now buttoning up the front of his shirt.) Anyways, if you want to know something truly scary, this is what a Bachelor's degree in humanities gets you nowadays. (The intern scowls, before shrugging.)

Intern: Hey, at least I'm not the pants guy. (He points to the intern below him, who is now buckling up Chris's shorts. The intern looks up.)

Intern #2: He's right. Nobody wants to be the pants guy.

Chris: Well, just keep at it, you two. Remember, everyone needs to start at the bottom before they can get to the top. It's just how it works in the biz. (He chuckles.) You wouldn't believe the things I had to do beforehand to get this hosting gig.

Noah: I think a quick Internet search gives me a pretty good idea.

Chris: You really shouldn't be visiting those sorts of websites, Noah. (The two interns finish putting on Chris's clothes, and begin walking away. Chris, however, calls after them.) Wait! You're not done! (The two interns turn around.)

Intern: What else do you want from us? (Chris stands up straighter and adjusts his shirt, flashing a charming smile.)

Chris: How do I look? (The interns stare at him.)

Intern #2: Uh… you look great. (Chris rolls his eyes.)

Chris: You need to be more specific than that. I mean, I always look great. That's not what I'm asking. The question is to what magnitude of greatness.

Intern: Um… you look really, really great. (Chris sighs.)

Chris: So only two "reallys", you say? Usually I get four. Oh well. It'll have to do for now, I guess. Now you may go. (The two interns quickly hurry away. Chris then adjusts his collar, grinning.) Wow. Courtney and Katie, you two were absolutely right about the whole "clothes" thing. I feel so much more dignified now that I'm in my signature outfit. I practically feel like royalty! Like I'm a king, waiting to take his rightful throne atop all of humanity. (He beckons to his shirt.) Look at this shirt. This is a shirt that is meant to be worn by a lord. By a GOD, even. The same applies to my shorts. Simply put, when I'm wearing these clothes, I am the epitome of class and distinction. An exemplary figure, meant to be respected and admired by all. One who is ready to seize the day for his own! (He stands tall, his chest jutting out, pointing proudly into the distance.)

Courtney: Your fly is down. (Chris slowly glances down and sighs. Then he hastily zips his pants up.)

Chris (muttering under his breath): You had one job, pants guy. Literally one job!

Katie: This has been so much fun, but can we please just get back on topic?

Chris: Very well. As you probably all have figured out by now, today is our horror-themed episode. Yes, we're doing it again. Deal with it.

Courtney: Can I please ask why? Why does every season of this show, whether it's canon or fan-made, always feel it necessary to include a horror-themed episode?! (Chris shrugs.)

Chris: Don't ask me. It's just a mystery of the universe. Now, we're going to begin with the Redemption Cabin duel in just a moment. (Trent quickly raises his hand. Chris groans.) What do you want?

Trent: Um, I don't want to create an inconvenience or anything to you, Chris, but—

Chris: Good. Then stop talking.

Trent: Just let me finish! I just want to say that while I know you're excited for it, you cannot do the horror-themed episode yet.

Chris: Oh really? I can't?

Trent: No you can't. Glad we're on the same page.

Chris: Hold on a second. Pardon my French, but why the f**k not?

Trent: Uh, because it's completely unfair to me?

Chris: You're gonna have to explain that one.

Trent: Look, I knew we'd be having the horror-themed episode eventually. It's something I've thought about almost every day since I've been here. But I had literally no idea it was going to happen this episode! I haven't had time to mentally prepare myself! (Katie rolls her eyes.)

Katie: You don't need to "mentally prepare" yourself, Trent. The challenges are never actually scary. They're always lame and cheap. Just like most horror movies today.

Trent: You don't know that! It may seem like that when you're watching on a TV in the safety of your warm home, with your overweight friend at your side to use as a comforting, protective pillow. But you've never been here in person during one of these episodes, experiencing the horror firsthand!

Katie: Neither have you.

Trent: Exactly! And that's why I need more time to mentally prepare myself! (He shakes his head.) I can't believe this. I've been completely blindsided. I thought for certain that the horror episode would be happening much later than this.

Bridgette: And why would you assume that?

Trent: Statistics, woman! The one other time this show took place on an island, the horror-themed challenge happened at final 8. Look around! We're at final 11! How could I possibly have seen this coming?!

Cody: Ah. I think I see the problem here. You made the error of making a predictive assumption based off of statistical data, when you only had a sample size of 1. A classic mathematical fallacy that can lead to incorrect hypotheses such as the one you just made.

Trent: Shut up, nerd!

Chris: Well, Trent, as much as I feel sorry for you, which I don't, I think you need to take a step back and notice that the universe isn't revolving around you. So as much as I want to accommodate to your special needs, I will not. Thank you. That being said, if you do want to know the reason for why we're having the horror episode today, we thought it only made sense, what with Halloween right around the corner.

Noah: Halloween is in over 3 months. (Chris crosses his arms.)

Chris: Says who?

Noah: The calendar. (Chris is silent for a moment.)

Chris: Well, the calendar is incorrect.

Noah: No, I'm pretty sure it's accurate.

Chris: Accurate by whose measure? The government's? (He shakes his head in disgust.) No. I don't think so. Don't you get it? It's all a lie, Noah. Time? Time doesn't even exist. The whole concept of "time" is actually just a means to oppress us. The government wants us to do certain things at certain times, all the time. Never changing our routine. Becoming mindless robots for a wicked hierarchy. (He crosses his arms indignantly.) But not me. I follow my own rules. I dictate my own fate! So if I say Halloween is in July, I'm not "incorrect", or "stupid". I'm just as right as anyone else!

Noah: You know, you really could just take credit for the fact that you forgot how to read a calendar.

Chris: Enough! We really need to start with the Redemption Cabin duel. It's sure to be an exciting one tonight. Everyone's favorite Goth girl Gwen will be squaring off against returning champion DJ, who as it turns out, is not dead. Props to him. (Trent smirks.)

Trent: Excellent. (He lets out an evil laugh.) I've been waiting for this all night. I can't wait to see DJ wipe the floor with Gwen. (Katie snorts.)

Katie: Please. If you think DJ even stands a chance against Gwen, you're ever dumber than you look. (Lindsay walks over, shaking her head.)

Lindsay: You're both wrong! Beth is totally going to win this.

Katie: Beth left two episodes ago, Lindsay. That being said, you're still more likely to be right than Trent is. (Trent scowls at her.)

Tyler (to Chris): So are we going to head over to the arena, dude?

Chris: Well, I am. You people will not be going.

Courtney: What? Why not?

Chris: We personally feel that there's a much more worthwhile way for you guys to spend your time during the next 7 hours.

Bridgette: Sleeping?

Chris: You're funny. You all will be going through what I like to call your basic horror film crash course. This is mostly for all you noobs who have never seen one before. (Trent scoffs.)

Trent: Pathetic, those people.

Chris: Uh, yeah, sure… anyways, you will be watching three different horror films, to fully verse yourselves in the wide variety of tropes that can be found today within the genre. The lessons you learn from the movies can and will greatly aid you in today's challenges, so I suggest you pay close attention.

Cody: I thought the whole appeal of this episode was watching us completely fail and get the crap scared out of us.

Chris: Indeed it is. But at the end of the day, there's only so much sheer incompetence one can take before it gets to be too much. We want you people to at least stand somewhat of a chance. Just for a show of hands, who has never seen a horror movie before? (Ezekiel tentatively raises his hand. Trent whips around to face him.)

Trent: Wow. Just wow. What is wrong with you? Huh?

Ezekiel: I.. I don't—

Trent: SHUT UP! You are a disgrace. Not just to us. To your entire family. How can you NEVER have seen a horror movie before?

Ezekiel: I don't own a TV—

Trent: NO! Just no. Don't even try. I don't want to hear your pathetic excuses. Just leave. Never return. You do not belong in this world. You have no purpose. You will never experience love. You will never experience anything. (Ezekiel's lower lip starts to tremble.)

Ezekiel: Why you gotta be so mean, eh? What's so bad aboot—

Trent: You? Everything. Everything is bad aboot you. Never even seen a single goddamn horror film. (He shakes his head.) That's just wrong. And sad. And pathetic.

Bridgette: Stop being a prick! Have you even ever seen a horror film? (Trent pauses, staring at her, before he bursts out laughing.)

Trent: Oh my god. Did you seriously just ask that question? Honey, I'm what they call an aficionado. I know horror films like the back of my hand. (He pauses, and glances down at the back of his hand.) The question is, just how well do I know the back of my hand? And why would I know it so well? And who coined such an odd expression? Questions to be answered.

Katie: Fine. Then name a horror movie you've seen. (Trent glances at her.)

Trent: Why? That seems sort of pointless. I have thousands to choose from.

Katie: Name your favorite. (Trent is silent for a long time.)

Trent: Uh… I saw a film a few years back. Scariest movie I'd seen in a long time. I was on the edge of my seat during the whole thing. My body was literally shaking from head to toe. The woman behind me was worried I was having a seizure. I assured her I was not. By the way, did you know she had a kid with her? I know. I couldn't believe she had brought her child to a movie like this. What are wrong with parents these days? Anyways, as it went on, it just got scarier, man. Seriously, there were a couple of times where I was this close to screaming at the top of my lungs and running straight out of the theater. (He grins cockily.) But I didn't, the seasoned horror veteran that I am.

Katie: Impressive. So what was the movie? (Trent taps his chin.)

Trent: Hmm… if my memory serves, it was called "Finding Nemo". Don't know if you've heard of it. It might be before your time. (Bridgette bursts out laughing.)

Bridgette: No way. You were scared during Finding Nemo?! (Trent looks at her in shock.)

Trent: You weren't?!

Bridgette: It's a G-rated kids movie about talking fish. So no, I wasn't.

Katie: You actually classify that as a horror film?

Trent: Yes I do! Did you even watch it? Just on a conceptual level, it's absolutely horrifying. Think about it. There's nothing scarier than the idea of a father losing his only son, let alone in such a vast and dangerous landscape as the open ocean. And then the execution of the concept just pushed it over the edge for me. It's like the movie put me in the shoes of the father fish. I could feel his desperation, Katie. I could sense the panic slowly building up inside of him. The experience chilled me to the bone. And then they added in some great white sharks. And with that, it officially became the scariest piece of cinematography ever rendered. Still holds that title to this day, in my opinion, although Penguins of Madagascar certainly gave it a run for its money. (Everyone is silent.)

Chris: So… I'll tally that as two noobs to the horror genre. (Trent whips around to face him.)

Trent: No! Don't you even, Chris Mclean! I am NOT a noob! (He point at Ezekiel.) Don't lump me in with that hillbilly piece of Canadian trash! He's the only noob! He practically radiates noobness!

Chris: Trent… if you want to be happy, you need to accept the man that you are. And that man is a total f**king noob. (Trent is about to speak, but says nothing. Instead, he just sighs in defeat.) Hey, don't get so down about it. This is why we're going to show you these movies. They will help you learn how to not be so pitiful of a life form. (Trent slowly nods, staring at the ground sadly.)

Noah: So what are these movies anyway, Mclean?

Chris: You will watch three different types. We have your classic slasher film, of course. We've got your paranormal/ghost movie. And then we have your zombie movie. I consider those to be the three main subgenres of horror films these days.

Courtney: Really? When's the last time there was a mainstream zombie movie? No, the third category should most certainly be psychological thrillers.

Chris: Never heard of them.

Courtney: You've never heard of psychological thrillers?! That's insane. They're simply ingenious. Just as scary as any other horror film, but in this instance, the horror derives itself from the sheer instability of the various characters' mental states.

Chris: You live with Izzy. I think you're already more than well-versed in that sort of horror.

Courtney: But—

Chris: No! Besides, zombie films are the bomb. Don't you dare diss them like that again, got it? (He turns back to the rest of the campers.) All right, campers, you may now head off to the Mess Hall. There, you will find a projector, along with the three films you will be watching. You may view them in any order you please. Now off you go. (The campers slowly start to walk away. Bridgette suddenly stops and looks around, frowning.)

Bridgette: Wait. Where is Geoff?! (Chris crinkles his forehead, smirking suspiciously.)

Chris: Hmm. Where is Geoff? There are a lot of reasonable explanations, I'm sure. (He shrugs nonchalantly.) Perhaps he was murdered. (Bridgette relaxes a little, smiling.)

Bridgette: Oh, I get it. It's another slasher film challenge, and we just don't realize it yet, right? That means you "killed" Geoff off already as part of the challenge and you have him sequestered somewhere. Just like that time with Alejandro.

Chris: No. I'm literally just guessing that he could have been murdered. It's really the only reasonable explanation I would have at this point. (Bridgette swallows nervously. Courtney walks over and places a hand on her shoulder.)

Courtney: Don't worry, Bridgette. I'm confident Geoff will turn up. As you said, he just needs a while to sort out his feelings. (Bridgette nods.)

Bridgette: You're right. We shouldn't rush him. Thanks, Courtney.

Courtney: No problem.

Confession Cam

Courtney: My guess? He's probably dead. (She shrugs.) What? It's the logical assumption. You see, Geoff is a guy whose favorite story to tell people is about the time he stuck his junk in a toaster to "see what would happen". He was bound to end up killing himself one day.

Bridgette: Geoff has such a tender soul. I really mean that. He gives off a happy-go-lucky exterior, but inside, he hurts just like anyone else. So whatever he's busy doing right now, I hope that it's helping him overcome his guilt about last night, so that he can move forward as a stronger individual. (She pauses.) And that it doesn't involve a toaster.

Cody: Am I excited that we're watching a few horror movies? You bet I am! There's simply no better way to get action than to sit next to a girl during one of those bad boys. When it starts getting to be too much for them to handle, they always need a man to comfort them- guaranteed. That is not a preconceived sexist notion, I swear. So yeah, horror movies are like the babe jackpot.

Noah: I don't watch a lot of horror movies, but I do know that in slasher films, the general rule of thumb that most filmmakers follow is that there can only be one survivor at the end. And 99 times out of 100, that sole survivor is the fairly pleasant, slightly bitchy, but overall thoroughly unremarkable female lead of the group. So I fully expect Bridgette to have immunity in the bag today. Which is fine by me; that gives me a wonderful excuse to not have to try in challenges. I'm always looking for those.

End of Confessionals

Redemption Cabin

(Gwen and DJ are now sitting in their separate beds, having a discussion as they get ready to go to sleep.)

Gwen: …And that's the story of how I ended up here. (DJ stares at her.)

DJ: Wow. And I thought I had a reason to be angry with Geoff. (He shakes his head.) That boy done screwed up big time.

Gwen: Yes he did. But you want to know something funny? I still don't blame Geoff for anything. He was just trying to make a big move. Why should I fault him for that? If it had worked out, we'd all be calling him a genius.

DJ: Uh… I wouldn't go that far.

Gwen: Maybe so. Look, Geoff isn't exactly what we call "cerebrally gifted". In fact, I wouldn't even call him "cerebrally competent" for the most part. But that doesn't mean he can't learn from his mistakes. There's still hope for him. He just needs to figure out that he can't so naïve, y'know? He needs to understand that he can't completely place his trust in everyone whom he had a fairly pleasant five-minute conversation with. It never turns out well in a game like this. (DJ shrugs.)

DJ: It's definitely been a learning process for him, no doubt. I get the sense that Geoff just comes from a very different background compared to the rest of us. Unlike most people, he's never had to worry about being lied to.

Gwen: How is it that even possible?

DJ: If I can recall, Geoff lived in a very small town growing up. Like, we're talking 500 people, tops. He once said before that where he's from, everybody gets along with everybody. There's no fighting, there's no hatred, there's no exclusion. It truly is one big happy family. (Gwen raises an eyebrow.)

Gwen: It sounds like Geoff grew up in a cult.

DJ: I wouldn't be surprised. That would explain the weird religious chants I hear coming from his bed every night. (Noticing Gwen's look of shock, DJ chuckles.) I'm just kidding. In all seriousness though, I hope Geoff can get it together. He and Bridgette are our only hopes at this point. They're the only people left that I want to win.

Gwen: Hey, don't count us out just yet, big guy. We're in this as much as anyone. (DJ shrugs.)

DJ: Maybe you are. But we both know that I'm never gonna get back into the game.

Gwen: Not with that attitude, you're not. Remember what you said before? You can't listen to your fear! As long as you have the confidence, the sky is the limit for you, DJ.

DJ: But that's the thing. I don't have the confidence, Gwen. I might have said that earlier. But I was just lying to you. And I was lying to myself. Now that I'm back in reality, I now realize that I'm the exact same loser that I was before.

Gwen: You're not a loser! Don't say those sorts of things!

DJ: Yes I am! Don't deny the truth, Gwen. I'm a complete and total loser. I am the epitome of losing. All I do is lose, lose, lose. The question we should be asking isn't whether or not I'm a loser, but rather what exactly is the extent of my loserness? And yet, that's a calculation I can't even solve, both because it's an infinite quantity, and because I suck at math, thus furthering my status as a loser. Losing is in my goddamn DNA. My loser life is one big exercise in how to lose. From the moment I wake up in the morning, I start losing. Every time I take a step, I lose. Even when I win, I lose! My own name even displays how I'm a loser! I tell people to refer to me as DJ, and yet I still can't drop a sick beat to save my life! I'll never stop losing!

Gwen: The only thing you're losing right now is your mind! What is wrong with you, DJ?!

DJ: And now you hate me. I'm even losing my friends!

Gwen: I don't hate you! I just don't know why you're acting like this! (DJ sighs.)

DJ: I'm sorry, Gwen. I'm just a little stressed out. It's been a long night. (Gwen nods.)

Gwen: I know it has been. I think what you need is a good night's sleep. Once you wake up in the morning, hopefully you'll have a more positive attitude. (DJ slowly nods back.)

DJ: You're right. That's exactly what I need. Thanks, Gwen!

Gwen: No problem. It only makes sense. Afterwards, you'll feel like a whole new person, ready to face the challenge no matter the odds.

DJ: Wow! I hope that's true!

Gwen: It will be. I promise. (She smiles at him.) Good night, DJ. (DJ smiles back.)

DJ: Good night, Gwen. (The two turn over in their beds, and slowly close their eyes. Two minutes pass. DJ starts to drift into slumber, a small, peaceful smile spreading across his face. Suddenly, Chris climbs in through the window and lands on the floor with a loud thud.)

Chris: Yo! Anyone home? (DJ and Gwen immediately bolt upward in surprise.) Ah! There you two are! I thought I'd find you guys here. I'm a genius. Anyways, I hope you've gotten some sleep! Because whether you're ready or not, the Redemption Cabin duel is starting RIGHT NOW! That's right. You heard me correctly. Bet you didn't see that one coming, huh? Don't lie, there's no way you could've seen it coming. It was so unexpected, that I even surprised myself just now. Damn. Now that's what we call a plot twist. I just flipped the whole script. Shyamalan, you can suck my ballz. I just blew you out of the water with that one. (He turns back to them.) Anyways, time to get up. We don't have all night. (Gwen shakes her head.)

Gwen: No way. Screw you, Mclean. You're not pulling this bullsh** on us! It's just after 1 am! We haven't slept at all!

Chris: You can sleep when you're dead. Lucky for you, that might be sooner than you think.

DJ: W-what's that supposed to mean?

Chris: It can mean whatever you want it to mean, DJ. Say, speaking of which, considering that your name is "DJ", do you think you could lay down a sick beat for us right now? It's always been a dream of mine to have a killer soundtrack to go along with my challenge explanation. (DJ hangs his head sadly.)

DJ: Nah, man. I regret to inform you that I do not know how to lay down a single beat, especially not one of the sick variety.

Chris: Wow. Your name is DJ but you can't drop a beat. It's like your whole life is meaningless. Like who even are you? You're nobody! (DJ nods sadly.)

DJ: I know.

Chris: I'm glad that you know. Anyways, I don't think you guys heard me, even though I know you did. Time to get out of bed.

Gwen: No! Why can't this wait? Why do we have to do the duel right now? (Chris slowly grins, and outstretches his arms.) Don't do that.

Chris: Look around, Gwen. Take a deep breath. Absorb it all. Can't you feel it?

Gwen: Feel what? A desire to strangle you?

Chris: No, Gwen. The atmosphere. It is perfect in this exact moment.

Gwen: Not with you breathing it. And what do you mean by "atmosphere"?

Chris: What I mean is that for this challenge to work, it must be a cool, dark, and menacing night. Exactly like the one we have right now.

DJ: W-why do we need it to be like that?

Chris: Oh yeah! I never told you guys, did I? Today is the horror-themed episode. (DJ smiles.)

DJ: Oh. That makes sense. Horror challenges only work the best at night. (He pauses for a moment.) WHAT?!

Chris: That's right, Person-Who's-Actually-Not-A-DJ! Your favorite episode of the season, I'm sure. Keeping with the theme, you and Gwen will compete in a duel that is not only rigorous and painful, but also deeply terrifying as well. Isn't that fun?

DJ: N-NO! No it aint! Here's how it is, Chris. Balloons? Those are fun. Trampolines? They are also quite fun. Monkeys? Fun as well. This? No, this is most certainly NOT fun!

Chris: Tough luck. It's fun for me, and that's all that matters. (DJ starts to hyperventilate, clutching his covers in fear. Chris sighs and walks over to DJ's bed. He sits down next to the teen and places a comforting hand on his back.) Listen, DJ. I know this isn't your cup of tea. (DJ turns to him, sweat pouring down his face.)

DJ: Ya think?! You know I hate them! (Chris frowns.)

Chris: Hate what?

DJ: Horror challenges! You just acknowledged that they aren't my cup of tea. I was agreeing with you!

Chris: Ohhhhhh. (He laughs.) No, that's not what I was talking about. (He holds up a teacup.) I was just literally saying this isn't your cup of tea. It's mine. (He takes a sip from the cup, and nods with approval.) Now that is a dank cup of tea. (He gets back up off the bed and grins at them.) You know, we really couldn't have had better luck when it came to the match-up.

Gwen: And why is that?

Chris: I mean, c'mon! Gwen vs DJ. That's what I call a marquee showdown. It's Pacquiao vs Mayweather without all the slightly homoerotic embracing. After all, you two are arguably polar opposites when it comes to the horror tolerance scale. (He beckons to DJ.) On one side, you've got a guy who has a severe myocardial infarction just from seeing a dead spider. (He beckons to Gwen.) On the other side, you've got a girl who gets aroused just at the thought of death itself.

Gwen (glaring): That's not true!

Chris: Yes it is. I know how you Goth teenagers are. I myself was actually Goth once, believe it or not. That was back in 1993. More than 20 years ago, yet I remember it vividly. (He looks off into the distance, smiling.) Every morning, I would stroll down the sidewalk, my dark black stilettos clacking on the pavement and my occult jewelery swinging back and forth, as I headed over to the nearest graveyard I could find. Once there, I would sit under my favorite lifeless tree and write poetry, putting my deepest feelings to paper. I cried for many hours, so many that I have since lost track. It was often painful, for sure. But I wouldn't change a thing. My experience as a Goth man made me who I am today. (Gwen stares at him.)

Gwen: Welp, you just did something my parents could never do. Convince me to stop being Goth. Now can you please tell us what the duel is?

Chris: It's quite simple, actually. You and DJ will be racing from here to the Redemption Cabin Coliseum. The first person to get there wins, and will get to stay in the game. The loser is gone for good. (Gwen raises an eyebrow.)

Gwen: That doesn't sound too difficult. (Chris smirks.)

Chris: Come on outside. I think you'll change your tune fairly quickly. (He then climbs out the window. Gwen glances at DJ, before the two slowly get out of bed and follow after the host. They exit through the window, and walk out into the clearing in front of the cabin. Gwen and DJ immediately gasp when they moment they look forward.)

Chris: Pretty cool, huh? (Towering before them are three large walls made of stone. Separating the walls are two narrow, dark passageways, which seem to go on forever. The forest crowds around the outermost walls, and ivy hangs from many of the cracks in the stones. Gwen continues to stare at the giant stone monolith.)

Gwen: What the hell is that?!

Chris: It's the entrance, Gwen.

Gwen: The entrance to what?

Chris: The entrance to your worst nightmares.

Gwen: Say something else that's cryptic and stupid, and you get injured.

Chris: Very well. This is the entrance to what I like to call "The Maze of Fear".

DJ: M-maze? Of f-fear?!

Chris: Yes. Glad you were listening. Now, in just a few minutes, you both will enter the maze. The two of you will then attempt to navigate your way through the many twisting and confusing passageways within until you reach the arena. Once there, you will find a crystal trophy. Grab it, and you win.

Gwen: A crystal trophy? Why would you include that in the challenge?

Chris: Because I have one. Duh. (DJ frowns.)

DJ: B-but I don't get it… that's it? Sure, it looks a little dark in the maze… but I don't see how that's scary.

Chris: Obviously. That's why there are things in the maze, DJ.

DJ: W-what?! What kinds of things?

Chris: Scary things.

DJ: You gotta tell us more than that, man!

Chris: Now that would just ruin the fun.

DJ: No it wouldn't! Like I said, dude! Unless it's balloons, trampolines, or monkeys, it aint gonna be fun either way!

Chris: I never said it wasn't those things. (DJ's eyes light up.)

DJ: Wait, so you're saying it is those things?

Chris: No. (DJ's shoulder's slump.) Look, I cannot disclose any more information than that. Just know that you do NOT want to run into the things inside of the maze. So try to avoid them at all costs. (DJ swallows deeply, and begins nervously chewing on his nails.) Before we begin, any questions?

Gwen: Yeah. How many trees did you have to chop down to build this piece of ****? (Chris rolls his eyes.)

Chris: Oh, look. The junior deputy environmental bitch is on my ass. Whatever shall I do?

Gwen: All I'm saying is that you're gonna be in a lot of legal trouble if you cleared that much natural wildlife habitation to build a challenge you're only going to use once!

Chris: Thanks for the heads-up. Too bad I don't care. Trees suck. They think just because they're taller than me, they're better than me too. Well screw them! I'm fine with a little more global warming. Better tanning weather that way. Now go back to eating kale and perusing Marxist literature, you psycho vegan hippy freak. (He smiles triumphantly at her. Then he slowly glances at the camera, which has been filming this whole time. Chris cringes.) Uh, I mean… it is true that we at Total Drama decided to clear a small part of this forest to build the challenge. But it was all for an educational purpose. Keeping with today's theme, we wanted to teach our younger demographic about a very relevant real-life horror: the environmental threat that deforestation can pose to our beautiful earth's ecosystem. Together, through the joint efforts of the Total Drama staff and viewers like you, we can make a difference. Let's change the world, one small step at a time. (He wipes the sweat off his brow.)

Gwen: Nice save.

Chris: Thank you. That should hopefully keep Al Gore off my back for a while. He's been hunting me down for years. (He shakes his head.) Man, that dude is persistent. Anyways, speaking of gore, let's get right to the duel. It's time for you both to enter the maze.

DJ: N-no! W-wait! We need t-time! Yeah. That's right! We need time t-to… uh… mentally prepare ourselves!

Chris: Why do people keep trying that one on me? It's not gonna work. You don't need to spend time psyching yourself up unless you're in the face of imminent failure. It's not like the challenge is talking to women. (He walks over to DJ.) Look, DJ, I know you're not the most excited to do this right now. But could you please at least give it your best effort? Besides, I haven't even told you about your special advantage yet. (DJ looks at him, puzzled.)

DJ: Special advantage?

Chris: That's right. With your having won the last duel, we felt that it's only fair that you get an edge to improve your chances in tonight's duel so that you can successfully defend your title. (DJ starts to look a little calmer, a small smile creeping onto his face.)

DJ: R-really?

Chris: Of course. That's why you get to enter the maze first! (DJ's smile quickly drops away. Then he forces a nervous chuckle.)

DJ: Uh… I'd like to offer my advantage to Gwen. (Gwen shrugs.)

Gwen: Sure. I'll take it.

Chris: Nope! That's not allowed. Big boy has gotta go first. (DJ swallows deeply, and glances at the maze. He frowns as he notices the two entrances.)

DJ: Hold on… there are two different paths I can take!

Chris: Right you are, my friend. You get to choose.

DJ: Is there any difference between the two?

Chris: Maybe there is, maybe there isn't. Just choose whichever entrance feels right to you.

DJ: What's that supposed to mean?

Chris: It means just pick one and get the f**k out of here already!

DJ: No! I can't choose! IT'S IMPOSSIBLE! What if everything is riding on this one decision?!

Chris: Well, it's not. So go.

DJ: Really? And why should I trust you?! You're always playin' mind games with me! (He clutches at the side of his face.) Ugh… it hurts so much… I CAN'T DECIDE ON THE SPOT LIKE THIS! You know I don't do well under pressure!

Chris: There's literally no pressure whatsoever. Now just choose before I shove you in a cannon and physically launch you down one of the pathways.

DJ: Hold on, I'm thinking. (He taps his chin.) Damn… it's so hard! This is like the prisoner's dilemma or something!

Chris: No. Not at all. That allusion could not be more inaccurate. (DJ begins analyzing the two entrances with his eyes squinted in thought.)

DJ: Hmm… maybe the maze is trying to communicate with me. It may want to send me an important clue! Just like in that one movie, Maze Runner! (He lets out a low whistle.) Maze Runner. Man, that was a kickass movie. It deserved way higher than its lukewarm 63 percent approval rating on Rotten Tomatoes. Last time I ever trust that site. (He returns his attention to maze and slowly takes a step towards it, staring at it in wonder.) Am I correct in my assumption? Are you trying to open my eyes to the truth? SPEAK TO ME, OH MIGHTY MAZE!

Chris: All right, looks like it's cannon time. (He turns around and walks off into the forest. DJ waits until the host is gone, before breathing a sigh of relief. Gwen slowly approaches DJ from behind.)

Gwen: You can't stall forever, you know. (DJ sighs.)

DJ: I know. But I can try.

Gwen: And you'll fail. The way I see it, you have two options right now, DJ.

DJ: Yeah, I know. Not to be rude, but I think that's already been well established here, Gwen. (He beckons to the maze's entrances.)

Gwen: I'm not talking about the two pathways! What I'm saying is that you can either go into that maze on your own terms within the next five minutes, or have your terms determined by Chris's ability to successfully aim a massive piece of explosive weaponry while under the influence of a wide assortment of narcotics.

DJ: B-but.. G-Gwen… I… I can't…

Gwen: Yes you can, DJ. Whatever is inside of that maze, yes, it might be big. It might be scary. It might even be dangerous. But you know what? It still won't be a match for you.

DJ: Why? Why do you think I could fend off any sort of fearsome monster on my own? (Gwen is silent for a long time.)

Gwen: Well, um… you have… um… you have a… um… a heart. (She nods.) You have a heart. A heart that is filled with love. The monsters aren't prepared for that. Therefore, with the power of love on your side, I'm certain you can defeat them.

DJ: No I can't.

Gwen: You're right. That was stupid. Look, DJ, I don't know what else to tell you. I already gave you one motivational speech. Don't expect to get another out of me. It's up to you at this point.

DJ: B-but… even if I do go into the maze… we still haven't addressed the essential question. Which path do I take?!

Gwen: I think you should just start running towards the maze, DJ. And as you approach, just let your feet dictate your path. Let your instincts guide you. Don't think about it. Just do it. (DJ gasps.)

DJ: Whoa… you're right! I'm always so caught up in my own mind that I can never get anything done! (He shakes his head.) But no longer. This time, my body is in the drivers' seat! Hell yeah! (DJ throws his hands up above his head.) All right, let's GOOOOOOOOOOO! (Cheering at the top of his lungs, he begins sprinting towards the maze with his arms still raised high into the sky. Gwen beams as she watches her friend race off.)

Gwen: That's it, DJ! Way to trust your—(She is cut off by a loud thud as DJ smashes straight into the wall between the two entrances. He stays there, flattened against the solid stone surface, not moving. After a few more seconds, his body slowly peels away from the wall and slowly floats backward to the ground like a piece of paper. Gwen gasps.)

Gwen: Crap! DJ! (She runs over to him and stares down at his body in concern.) Are you okay?! (DJ slowly lifts his head and glances up at her.)

DJ: Yeah… heh heh… just… give me a sec… Ow…

Gwen: What happened?! Why did you do that?! (DJ slowly gets up, clutching his head.)

DJ: I… don't know… I was just trying not to think, like you told me. And then… I don't remember. (Gwen groans.)

Gwen: Okay, obviously you have to think a little. Otherwise you're going to end up killing yourself.

DJ: Duly noted. (He glances at the pathways to either side of him.) So… I guess I'll just take the path on the left, then? Left is my lucky number, after all. (Gwen stares at him strangely for a moment, before she shrugs.)

Gwen: Sure. Go for it. But are you sure you're fine? You took quite the hit just now. And you seem a little out of it. (DJ chuckles.)

DJ: I'm fine, Geoff. Don't worry about it.

Gwen: I'm not Geoff.

DJ: You aren't? Whoops. Sorry Bridgette. It's just that you and Geoff are always makin' out, so it's kind of hard to tell you guys apart sometimes. (He turns to a tree stump jutting out of the ground.) Sorry to you too, Geoff. (He then glances upward.) Say, has the sky always been purple? That's kinda weird. Oh well. It must be for Christmas or something. (He waves to Gwen.) All right, see ya!

Gwen: Okay, maybe you shouldn't… (But it's too late. DJ has already raced off into the maze. Gwen sighs.) I'm certain this won't turn out badly. (Suddenly she hears a loud scraping noise behind her, and turns to see two interns dragging a large cannon across the forest floor towards her. Chris sits perched on top of the artillery.)

Chris: I'm back! And I've brought my decisions counselor with me. I've found her to be very persuasive in the past. (He frowns as he gets closer and sees only Gwen.) What the…?! Where'd he go?!

Gwen: DJ? He already went inside. You're too late. (Chris groans.)

Chris: C'mon! So you're saying I dragged this 800 pound metal cannon here for nothing?!

Gwen: You're not even the one dragging it!

Chris: Maybe not. But I tell you; sitting on top of this cannon is much harder than looks. At any second, I could lose my balance and fall to my death.

Gwen: You're four feet off the ground.

Chris: Four feet is more than you think it is, Gwen. That's like 48 inches. Not to mention the hard surface of the cannon's exterior really hurts my butt.

Gwen: Well, this has been a fulfilling conversation. (She starts to walk away.)

Chris: Wait! Are you sure you don't want to be launched out of the cannon? It'll certainly give you a "boost" to start the race. And given DJ's head start, you may need it.

Gwen: I'll pass. (She then walks through the right entrance and disappears into the shadows. Chris curses to himself.)

Chris: Damn it… I got all in the mood to fire someone from a cannon, and then they leave me with blue balls. (He shakes his head.) But you know what? I'm not gonna let this opportunity go to waste. I can still use it on somebody. (Chris frowns.) But who? (Suddenly, he gets an idea. He points to one of the interns.) You. Go find me the pants guy.

Confession Cam

Chris: You left my fly down. Now you pay the price. (He shrugs.) It's just how it is in the biz. Your actions have consequences.

End of Confessionals

Mess Hall

(The campers slowly file into the dining area. Already having been set up are three rows of plastic chairs with four seats in each row. They all sit facing a large overhead projector. People begin to take a seat, filing into the rows. Trent, who is the last person inside, scoffs when he sees the arrangement.)

Trent: What is this?

Noah: This is the Mess Hall, Trent.

Trent: No! What is THIS?! (He beckons around the room.)

Noah: It's still the Mess Hall.

Trent: I know it's the Mess Hall, dork! I'm talking about this so-called "theater" Chris has set up for us! (He points to the projector.) First of all, we cannot watch anything on that 1950s bullsh**. When I'm watching a horror movie, it's 1080p HD or bust.

Bridgette: It's not that big of a deal, Trent.

Trent: Maybe to you, it isn't! But I want to be fully immersed in the action. When that victim is getting her head chopped off, I want to feel like it's my head getting chopped off.

Izzy: Okay, that's just weird.

Trent: It's not weird! It's just my personal taste! (He then walks over and picks up one of the plastic seats.) And look at this. We're supposed to sit in these?

Noah: That's what chairs are for.

Trent: But this isn't a chair! A chair is supposed to be something that makes sitting easier on the occupant. But this? This provides no more comfort beyond that of sitting on the f**king floor. And that's simply unacceptable whilst watching a horror film. Think about it. When you're watching a scary movie, you're bound to jump in your seat at least a couple of times. Any sane person would want a nice, padded surface for their butt to land on whenever that occurs. With these "chairs", your butt's as good as broken! (Katie walks up next to him.)

Katie: Well, Trent, there's nothing we can do. So you can either quit bitching and sit in the chair, or you can stand.

Trent: Or I can take this chair and repeatedly bash Chris over the head with it until he gets some sense about him.

Katie: You will not be doing that. You will be sent to prison. Now put the chair down.

Trent: Trying to oppress me, huh?! Not gonna happen, woman! I stand for justice! (Katie scowls at him, and begins whispering in his ear.)

Katie: You miserable f**k. I'm not trying to oppress you. I'm trying to help you stop throwing this ridiculous temper tantrum before you end up sealing your own fate! This is your idea of what not being a prick is?! Then you need a new definition! Now put the goddamn chair down and shut up! (Trent grumbles to himself and places the chair back on the floor. Katie then walks away and sits in the back row. Cody, meanwhile, ambles up to the Trent, grinning.)

Cody: Hey man, no need to get so pissed. This is a time for celebration!

Trent: You're right. We should celebrate our rights to a high quality viewing experience by burning the Mess Hall to the ground in protest of this atrocity.

Cody: Uh… that's not what the kind of celebration I'm talking about.

Trent: Then you are of little interest to me. Away with you.

Cody: C'mon, dude! Don't you realize the amazing situation we're in? Look around. (He beckons around the room.) Look at all the wonderful women among us. If you and I play our cards right, we both could be getting some serious action tonight. (He cups a hand to his mouth and whispers in Trent's ear.) I'm talkin' big time, baby.

Trent: Do you ever think about anything other than procreating?

Cody: Will you keep it down?! (He leans over to Trent's ear.) I'm serious here, man! This is the opportunity of a lifetime. We are about to watch not one, not two, but three horror movies, all in the presence of a beautiful bounty of babes.

Trent: Your misogynistic alliterations never fail to impress.

Cody: Thank you. Anyways, we both need to find a girl to sit next to during this movie marathon. It's absolutely crucial. Because I don't know if you've ever watched a horror movie with a chick before, bu—

Trent: Of course I have. Don't be ridiculous.

Cody: Uh… okay. Then I'm sure you know that there's no better time to make a move on a girl than right in the midst of a scary movie. That's when she's at her most fragile. For the good part of an hour, she has been emotionally battered and torn apart relentlessly by the horrors onscreen, and now she needs nothing more than a man's loving embrace to bring her back to reality. We are the men, Trent. Our powerful, manly arms can provide a safe haven for the girl, where she can finally feel protected, shielded from all danger, guarded from all evil, loved for all eternity. And as a result, we're both one step closer to tapping that. (He grins.) So? Do you like the plan?

Trent: No. No offense, but I have no interest in joining you in your hopeless quest for breasts. Good luck on your own. (He starts to walk away, but Cody grabs his shoulder.)

Cody: Don't be like that, Trent! I'm only telling you this because I think it can help you. I see your relationship with Courtney, man. It's floundering. It's falling apart at the seams. You need a way to rekindle that spark, before it completely dies out. And this is the way to do it!

Trent: Who are you, my marriage counselor? Courtney and I are fine! Our relationship has never been better!

Cody: Really? Because I haven't seen you two talk since yesterday morning.

Trent: So? We're just cooling off for a bit! It doesn't indicate our relationship is failing. Why are you paying so much attention, anyway?

Cody: Because as your fellow alliance partner, it's my job to make sure your love life is functioning smoothly.

Trent: No it isn't!

Cody: Fine. Then it's my job as your friend. Believe me when I say this is coming entirely out of the kindness of my heart. After all, you helped me win over Katie. I'm just trying to repay the favor.

Trent (frowning): But Katie still f**king hates y—

Cody: Look at her, Trent. (He beckons to Courtney, who is sitting in the third row.) Your girl is by herself. She wants you to sit with her. No, she needs you to. (Trent shakes his head.)

Trent: No she doesn't. She doesn't want to be anywhere near me right now.

Cody: And do you know why that is? (Trent scratches his head.)

Trent: She's obviously angry about something… like I've done something wrong.

Cody: Well, then now is the perfect time to apologize, dude! Even if you don't know what you're apologizing for. In my experience, women just want to hear you say you're sorry, whether it makes sense or not. (Trent frowns.)

Trent: You know… maybe you're right.

Cody: Of course I'm right. I'm the Code-meister. I do this for a living. (He pats Trent on the back.) Anyways, think about it, buddy. It can't hurt. (He then strolls away, leaving Trent standing there.)

Confession Cam

Trent: What Cody says is true. Things have been very awkward between Courtney and me for a while now. Ever since I ran into her in the forest while I was searching for the idol. That's when we had our big blowup. (He sighs.) I wanted to tell her what I was doing… but I couldn't. And now she thinks I'm keeping secrets from her. (He sighs.) I didn't want to be a bad guy. I only did it to keep her safe! Take Peter Parker, for example. He didn't tell Mary Jane he was Spiderman for the longest time, even though she was his girlfriend. That was because he knew that if she became involved in that part of his life, it could endanger her own. He had many enemies that could attempt to hurt her, and while it pained him to keep the secret, he knew it was for the greater good. It's the same deal with me. I know that if I were to have told Courtney about my search for the idol, it could very well have endangered her life. I only did what was best for her. (He shakes his head.) Still, she doesn't know that. Therefore, I need to try and explain my predicament to her. I'm confident she'll understand.

End of Confessionals

(Trent walks over to seat to the left of Courtney, smiling.)

Trent: Mind if I sit here? The only other open seat is next to Ezekiel, and well… no. (Courtney glances up at him.)

Courtney: Um… sure. Go ahead.

Trent: Thanks. (He sits down. There's awkward silence for a minute. Then Trent suddenly whips around to face Courtney, startling her.) We need to talk. (Courtney glances off to the side.)

Courtney: Uh… about what?

Trent: About us. (Courtney glances over at Noah, who is watching her intently from the front of the room.)

Courtney: Um… I don't really like this chair. I think I'm going to move over. (She scoots over one seat, so that she is sitting next to Bridgette.)

Trent: Don't be like that, Courtney! I'm just trying to have a mature discussion! (He scoots over one seat so that he is sitting next to her again. He clasps her hand and looks sternly into her eyes.) Look, I know I've been a bad boyfriend to you, Courtney. Worse than Duncan, even. No, scratch that. Nobody can be a worse boyfriend than Duncan. Still- I've been bad. I haven't treated you with the respect you deserve. And for that, I'm truly sorry. That's why I want to have this conversation, so that we can work out our issues. And what better place to talk about this than in a room in which we're surrounded by all of our peers, all of whom can hear every word we're saying?

Courtney: I don't like this seat either. (She gets up and crosses over Bridgette, before sitting down in the chair on the other side of her.)

Trent: Come back! Please! (He takes a deep breath and stands up.) ...Do I really have to say it? I guess I do. I LOVE YOU, COURTNEY! (Everyone falls silent and looks over at them. Courtney places her head in her hands.)

Courtney: This cannot be happening right now… (Trent then walks over and sits in Bridgette's lap, so that he is once again sitting next to Courtney.)

Trent: Did you hear me just now? I love you. That's right. I'm not afraid to say it. It's not some sort of forbidden word to me. Or I guess, it's three words, technically. But still. You get the idea.

Courtney: Trent, I… this really isn't the best time.

Trent: Why not? Now seems like the perfect time. (He bounces up and down in Bridgette's lap, frowning.) Hm. This seat is much more comfy than the other ones, strangely enough. Very warm, as well.

Bridgette: Please get off of me. (Trent glances back at her.)

Trent: Whoops! Sorry. Didn't even see you there. You don't mind me sitting here, do you?

Bridgette: Yes, I actually do! Now GET OFF!

Trent: One minute. Can't you see my girlfriend and I are having an intimate moment here?

Noah: Dude, she obviously doesn't want to talk to you right now. Now you need to go find a seat that isn't on top of someone. (Trent sighs and reluctantly stands up. When he glances back, however, he sees that Lindsay and Tyler are occupying the two seats he and Courtney previously sat in. Trent glances towards the front and sees that the only open seat is, in fact, next to Ezekiel. The guitarist groans, and saunters up to the front, where he plops down into the seat. Ezekiel smiles at him.)

Ezekiel: I think what you did just now was very brave. Love is a powerful emotion, eh. I admire you for your willingness to openly admit your feelings like that. (He gazes off into the distance.) I really wish more people would be open to the idea of love. If everybody loved each other, the world would be a better place to live.

Trent: And if you shut the f**k up, it would be even better. (Ezekiel shrugs.)

Ezekiel: So she sorta blew you off. No big deal, eh. Can't get too doo'wn about it, y'know? Besides, noo'w you get the best seat in the hoo'se. The front row! I'm sure everyone is so jealous of us right noo'w.

Trent: Are you f**king kidd—you think the front row is the best seat? Holy sh**, you really are a noob to this. We're so close to the front, we have to break our necks just to see half of what's onscreen!

Ezekiel: That's fine. I'm always up for a challenge. It tests your character, eh.

Trent: Oh, don't lecture me on character, homeschool. You wouldn't know character if it smacked you in your face! (Ezekiel frowns.)

Ezekiel: You know, I thought we were friends. I don't get why you noo'w have some sort of vendetta against me!

Trent: You don't? Then let me give you a synopsis of yesterday! (He leans in closer to Ezekiel.) I spent all day helping you redeem yourself in your grandpa's eyes or whatever the f**k that sh** was. Not because I had to, but because I wanted to. And then, after all the crap I went through to help you, out of the blue, we come across the Hidden Chris Head. I think to myself, maybe this was all worth it. All the abuse. All the mind-numbingly stupid stories about life out on the prairie. All the gratingly stereotypical Canadian accents. And then what do you do? You throw the idol into a river!

Ezekiel: Oh yeah. Heh heh. Noo'w I remember. (He frowns.) You still haven't foo'nd it?

Trent: Not yet. But just know that when I do have it in my possession, I will use it for one purpose, and one purpose only. To destroy you. So you better prepare for your demise, because it's coming any day now. (Ezekiel swallows nervously. Noah, meanwhile, is fiddling with the controls of the overhead projector, when finally it switches on. He turns to the audience.)

Noah: Okay, people. Which movie do we want to start with?

Katie: Um, how about you read us the titles first? How are we supposed to know which one we want to watch first if we don't even know what the movies are? You really could at least try to be a professional about this, Noah. Especially when you're the asshole who named himself the leader without anyone's input.

Noah: Thanks for the helpful advice, Katie. But there aren't any titles. It's literally just three generic DVDS, one labeled "Slasher Movie", one labeled "Ghost Movie", and one labeled "Zombie Movie". Certainly not sketchy at all. Now, does anyone have a preference?

Lindsay: I vote for whichever one has the most singing and dancing!

Noah: I don't think any of the movies have any—

Tyler: I DON'T WANNA HEAR IT! You heard her, dude! Give my woman some musical numbers! (Noah glances around the room.)

Noah: Does anybody else want to have their opinion heard, or are we going to let these two run the show?

Katie: I don't get why you're even asking us this. We're going to have to watch all 3, anyway. The order makes no difference. Just another way that you're proving to be both incompetent as a leader and as a human being, and yet another reason for why you should be voted out.

Noah: I guess we'll go with the serial killer flick. (He pops the DVD in. Slowly, the projector comes to life. It begins projecting light forward, illuminating the screen and covering it in white light. It stays like this for a moment.)

Tyler: Yo, can someone turn up the volume? I can't hear anything.

Katie: That's because the movie hasn't started yet, dipsh**.

Tyler: Oh. (Suddenly, the screen turns black. The MGM logo then appears, depicting the iconic lion's head with the words "Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer" over it. The lion tilts its head back and lets out a loud roar. Trent immediately springs upward, screaming.)

Trent: WHAT THE *********************************?! (The guitarist whips around, frenzied panic filling his eyes. He then vigorously grabs the top of his seat and hurls himself over it. He slams into the seat behind him where Noah is sitting, knocking both the chair and the bookworm to the ground with a loud clang. Trent frantically gets up from the wreckage and launches himself over the next row of seats, his foot smashing into both Tyler and Lindsay's faces in the in the process. Finally, Trent reaches the back row, and attempts to lunge over it. However, his shoelace catches on the top of the chair, throwing off his momentum. Trent screams and flails his arms wildly as his body does a triple flip through the air. He continues to scream until he smashes into the back wall, before crashing to the floor and lying there in a crumpled heap. Bridgette jumps up in shock, and quickly pauses the projector.)

Bridgette: Trent! Are you okay?! (Trent suddenly springs upward again, and glances around frantically.)

Trent: Where did it go?!

Katie: Where did what go?

Trent: Did you not just SEE that? There was a lion! A goddamn lion, right here in the Mess Hall! And it was about to eat all of us! (He looks around in confusion.) But now it's just… gone! (Katie stares at him.)

Katie: You mean that production company's logo? You thought that was an actual lion?!

Trent: Yeah! You're telling me it wasn't?!

Cody: No, dude! It was just a picture on a screen! (Trent stares at him, puzzled.)

Trent: …Really? But… it was right in front of me, about to bite my face off! And you're saying that was just the movie? (He scratches his head.) Wow. It looked so real. (Noah gets up from the ground, clutching his head.)

Noah: Well, it wasn't. And I really hope you're not going to have this sort of reaction every time they show something slightly threatening onscreen.

Trent: "Slightly threatening"? I think the king of the food chain is a bit more than just "slightly threatening"! (He shrugs.) I was just following my instincts. When I see a large predatory animal in front of me, I'm going to run. That's survival 101. You don't try to fight with a lion, unless you have an AK-47 readily at hand.

Bridgette: But it wasn't an actual lion. You do understand that, right?

Trent: Now I do. But I didn't at the time. (He crosses his arms.) In my defense, I'm not used to horror movies beginning right away with a jump scare. Honestly, that's just a dick move.

Katie: That wasn't even part of the movie! It was just the logo for MGM studios!

Trent: Well, "MGM studios" should feel very ashamed about the trauma their sick, twisted version of a "mascot" has caused me and many other innocent children.

Ezekiel: I don't even know why ya thought the lion was so scary, eh. He looked pretty friendly to me! If anything, I wanted to give him a nice big hug. (Trent laughs with disgust.)

Trent: And that is why you wouldn't last five seconds out on the Savannah, Ezekiel. Yes, it is in our nature to anthropomorphize other species. We want to view wild animals as humans, even when they obviously aren't. For the most part, it's a harmless mindset to possess. But when you're in the wild, you don't have time to think that way. If you wish to live among animals, you must become an animal yourself. And that's exactly what I did when I saw that lion. If anything, you people should be commending me for my impressively quick reflexes in the face of danger.

Noah: Yeah, we all really admire the way you pushed half of us to the ground in your attempt to get away.

Trent: I guess you didn't hear me, Noah. When you're out on the Savannah, you don't have time to worry about your fellow humans. It's only about self-preservation.

Bridgette: Hmm. I didn't know we were in Africa right now. I thought we were sitting in the Mess Hall, watching a movie that isn't real. My mistake. (Trent scowls.)

Trent: You know, I don't like the way you guys are talking to me right now. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were mocking me!

Katie: That's because we are.

Trent: Why?! Because I was justly apprehensive when faced with nature's most fearsome beast?!

Katie: No, because we are less than five seconds into the movie, and the so-called "horror movie aficionado" has already gone mental over a picture of a cat that wasn't even part of the film!

Trent: So?

Noah: C'mon, Trent. Just admit that you're actually a complete wuss when it comes to horror movies. (Trent groans, and throws his hands up into air in exasperation.)

Trent: You know what? Fine! I'll admit it! I am a wuss! When I see scary things on camera, I tend to overreact. Maybe it's an inherent flaw in my character, maybe it's an innate survival mechanism that will ultimately prove to be my greatest asset once the apocalypse arrives, whatever. Either way, that aspect of my personality is popularly frowned upon by society. I wish I could change, but I can't. (He points at the crowd.) But you know what? At least I'm not a sociopath like the rest of you! You emotionless freaks of nature… you didn't even bat an eye just now! You could probably watch a man get killed right in front of you, and you wouldn't show an ounce of concern!

Noah: You're right. In fact, we're about to watch many people get killed, in case you didn't catch the memo.

Trent: Well, I don't want to be a part of this madness! If you need me, I'll be outside, doing something actually productive.

Bridgette: Like what?

Trent: Building a school for disadvantaged children! Eating a sandwich! I don't know! Something more productive than this, that's for sure. Now I hope you all enjoy your disgusting excuse for entertainment. You're all losers. I'm the only winner in life. (With that, he storms over to the door, throws it open, and walks out, slamming it behind him.)

Izzy: Man, that guy has issues.

Confession Cam

Trent: Okay, fine. So I don't like horror films. In fact, I've never even watched one. I just don't see why somebody would actually want to pay money just to be visually assaulted repeatedly for two hours and then have to sleep with the light on for the next month and a half! That just doesn't sound like fun to me. And yet, I get ridiculed for thinking this way. (He shakes his head.) What kind of people would do that? Who would make someone feel bad just because they don't like a certain genre of movie? Only evil, heartless monsters, that's who. (Trent pauses.) And all of my friends… (He chokes on a sob.)

Katie: At this point, I'm starting to think Trent may just not be worth the effort any more. If he keeps this up, he's only going to drag me down with him. It may be time to cut him loose. At the same time… damn, he'd be so easy to beat in the finals.

End of Confessionals

Maze

(DJ walks down the dark passageway of the maze, slowly recovering from his concussion as he goes. His pupils are dilating and contracting, and he wobbles back and forth with every step he takes. DJ laughs, and flaps his arms like he's flying.)

DJ: Whee… this is so much fun, Martin Luther King Jr… where are you going to take me next on this magical adventure? (Suddenly, he smashes into the wall in front of him. DJ stumbles backward, and shakes his head. Suddenly, his head becomes completely clear. DJ's eyes widen as he frantically looks around at his surroundings.)

DJ: What the…?! Where am I?! WHAT IS THIS PLACE?! Martin?! Where did you go, man?! Come back! (Suddenly, a TV on the nearest wall switches on, displaying Chris's grinning face.)

Chris: Welcome to The Maze of Fear, DJ. How are you enjoying it so far?

DJ: How did I even get in here?!

Chris: Gwen told me that you walked inside out of your own free will. Darn shame, too. As it turns out, the inside of my cannon was the exact same diameter as that of your torso. You would have made the perfect projectile missile. (DJ frowns.)

DJ: But… I don't remember ever doing that…

Chris: Well, either way, you're here. And now that you've reached this point in the maze, I get to tell you what awaits you the further you go. (DJ frowns at Chris.)

DJ: Hold on. How are you in here with me? And why is your head so big? And where's the rest of your body? WHAT IS HAPPENING?!

Chris: I'm on a TV screen, DJ.

DJ: Oh. (There's silence.)

Chris: …Now that we've cleared that up, let me give you your task. Very soon, you will reach a clearing in the maze. You will see two locked gates in front of you- those are the two exits out of the maze and into the arena. There's one for you, and one for Gwen. (DJ raises both eyebrows.)

DJ: Wow! Really? So I just need to get there, push open my gate, and then I win?

Chris: No. Did I not literally just tell you that the gates are locked?

DJ: Oh yeah. I forgot.

Chris: I said it five seconds ag-whatever. It's not a big deal. You obviously still need a head examination, but it's fine.

DJ: So if the gates are locked... then how do I get through?

Chris: You will see in the clearing that there are six different passageways, all branching off in different directions. Down each passageway, there's a key. You must collect two keys to open your gate. Put a key in both of the gate's locks, turn them to the right, and bam- you're into the arena, and you've all but won the duel.

DJ: Okay, hold on. Now that just seems dumb. Like, who in God's name would design a gate that needs two keys to be opened? Imagine having to keep track of two tiny-ass keys just to get into your own damn house. You lose one? It don't matter if you have the other one, you're done. You're homeless. Talk about inconvenient.

Chris: Thank you for wasting episode time. Now-

DJ: When I get a house, I'm not even gonna use doors that need keys. Finger print scanners all the way, bro. Time to enter the future, you know what I'm saying? Then again, what if I lose all my fingers? Then I'm as good as homeless. Talk about-

Chris: SHUT UP! I want to finish this duel before it's 2016, thank you very much. Now, you may be thinking this all sounds pretty easy- collect a couple of a keys, open a few locks, and you're done. But no. It's not so easy. Life is never so easy, DJ. Thus, each key is being guarded. (DJ swallows nervously.)

DJ: G-guarded? B-by who?

Chris: Oh, nothing major. Just six of the most disturbing, hellacious creatures in all of the world.

DJ: Oh. Okay. (He pauses.) WHATCHUJUSTSAY?!

Chris: Don't worry. You'll be fine. There's only one disturbing, hellacious creature roaming each passageway. And none of them will actually do anything to you until you physically take a key from its place. (He chuckles.) Once you do, however... I suggest you run.

DJ: Why?

Chris: I mean, you can stay and die, if you really want to.

DJ: They're gonna try and KILL me?!

Chris: Some of them will. Some of the others will try and do things much, much worse.

DJ: Like WHAT?!

Chris: I'm not allowed to say. This is a kids' show, DJ. Just don't let yourself get caught. That's the only advice I can give you.

DJ: But even if I make it back to the clearing, can't whatever monster that's chasing me just follow me there and then kill me?

Chris: We've already accounted for that. Whenever you exit a passageway, there will always be a button located directly to your right. Pressing the button will close off that section of the maze. However, be careful- once you do so and the door closes, it's permanent. You cannot go back in. That area is locked forever.

DJ: Now that's also a really dumb design. Imagine if that was the case with the doors to your house. Say you go outside and want to lock up, so you press the button you're talking about and your door closes. Well great job- now you can't get ever back in. You're now homeless. And that's just-

Chris: For the last goddamn time... SHUT. UP. Please! (He takes a deep breath.) Anyways, that's all the help I can give you. Your fate is now in your own hands. Good luck, DJ. Make me proud.

DJ: Wait! (But the TV screen has already shut off. DJ takes a deep breath, and stares forward.) All right. Don't panic, DJ. Remember what he said. Nothing can attack you until you actually take a key. So just get to that clearing, and we'll go from there. (Nodding to himself, he jogs off into the maze.)

Confession Cam

DJ: You know, I'm actually really glad that Chris gave me those instructions. Now that I have a specific task in mind, I can focus on completing it. Maybe I really do have a shot to win this thing! (A rimshot plays. DJ scowls.) That wasn't a joke! I legitimately believe in myself! (Another rimshot plays. DJ sighs.)

End of Confessionals

(Gwen is walking down a long, narrow path within the maze, looking unamused. She turns left, and walks for a while, before turning right and continuing at her bored pace.)

Gwen: Well this blows. (Suddenly, a TV screen a few paces in front of her lights up, displaying Chris's smiling face.)

Chris: Hey there, Gwen! Now that you've reached this point in the maze I get to—(Gwen walks right past, not paying attention to him.) Hey! You get back here!

Gwen: No.

Chris: I'm trying to tell you about the challenge!

Gwen: Cool. I'm not trying to listen.

Chris: Well, you should be! You're doomed without my help!

Gwen: I don't care. (She turns a corner, and disappears from sight. Chris calls after her.)

Chris: That's rude, you know! You're looking like a real brat! Your parents would not approve! (But Gwen just keeps walking, until his voice fades into the distance.)

Confession Cam

Gwen: Maybe I should have stopped and humored Chris for a minute. But I was in a bad mood, and I just wanted the stupid duel to be over so I could back to sleep. Besides, I knew whatever he was trying to tell me wasn't important. It's not like it was crucial info about the challenge or something.

End of Confessionals

Back at Camp...

Mess Hall

Noah: All right, does anyone else want to join Trent outside before we start the movie again? (Everybody is silent.) Thought so. (The know-it-all walks back over to the projector and presses "play" again.)

(The screen remains black for a moment. Then it fades into an overhead shot of a forest at night. Rain is falling through the sky, and lightning flashes in the distance. Slowly, the camera begins panning towards the trees.)

Courtney: Hmm… solid establishing shot… nice atmosphere… knock on wood, this actually looks promising. (She sighs.) I can't even remember the last time I saw a decent horror film. Maybe this movie could finally be the one to break that tre—(Suddenly, words appear on the screen.)

"Produced by Chris Mclean, in partnership with Chris Mclean's Beautiful Face"

Courtney: Never mind. (Katie groans.)

Katie: Oh great. It's one of Chris's ventures into the art of filmmaking. Somebody just stab me in the face right now.

Izzy: If you insist.

Katie: Not literally! I'm just saying this movie is going to completely suck!

Noah: Agreed.

Bridgette: C'mon. Let's not get ahead of ourselves here, guys. It only says that Chris produced the movie. That's not that bad, right? It's not like he was a part of the creative process or something. It could be a lot worse, y'know.

"Original Screenplay by Chris Mclean"

Noah: Like that?

Bridgette: *sigh* Yeah, like that. So it's probably not going to have the best of plots. But hey, if Chris managed to hire a decent director to film it, maybe the movie can still be watchable.

"Directed by Chris Mclean"

Noah: Well then. So much for that one, huh, blondie? (He turns back to the screen.) Any other credits you'd like to give to yourself while we're at it, Chris? (Almost immediately. a barrage of credits begins to appear onscreen.)

"Starring: Chris Mclean as the Psycho Killer"

"Camerawork by Chris Mclean"

"Special Effects by Chris Mclean"

"Catering by Chris Mclean"

"Soundtrack by Chris Mclean"

"Chris Mclean by Chris Mclean"

"Chris Motherf**king Mclean"

Noah (muttering under his brother.) Wonderful.

Courtney: Holy crap. Does Chris have any friends? Or did he literally make this whole movie by himself?

Cody: I'm just struggling to comprehend how Chris got MGM studios to actually fund this. (Suddenly, more words appear onscreen.)

"Oh, stop complaining. You're going to love it."

(Everyone is taken aback.)

"That's right. I know you're all bitching nonstop right now because you all think it's soooo cool to hate on Chris. You campers are all so predictable. But you all better get ready, because this sh** is off the chain. I worked for TEN YEARS on this. And my hard work has paid off, I'll have you know. The reception for this film has been overwhelmingly positive. In fact, a very well-respected movie reviewer recently gave my film 5 stars."

Tyler: Really, dude? That's awesome! Who was it?

"Chris Mclean."

(Everyone groans.)

"Oh, don't be like that. Try to have a positive attitude. I'm looking at you, Katie. That's right. I can't actually see you right now, but I know. You're probably sitting in the back as we speak, not paying attention and thinking that the aura of angsty detachment your giving off is so cool. Well, it's not cool. You're not cool. You're lukewarm at best. And please stop flipping me off. It's not helping your case."

(Katie retracts her middle finger.)

"Oh, and by the way, you're looking very beautiful tonight, Lindsay. I love what you did with your hair."

Lindsay: Aww… thanks!

"You're very welcome. Call me anytime."

Noah: That's it, I'm skipping ahead. (He gets up and reaches for the fast-forward button.)

"Don't you even think about it."

(Noah stares at the screen in confusion for a moment, before slowly retracting his hand.)

"That being said, I agree that this has probably gone on too long. At this point, I can't even tell if these are prewritten credits that just happened to predict every action you guys were going to take, of if they've somehow transformed into a sentient being with the ability to process exactly what is occurring in the room and react to it appropriately. Anyways, enjoy the movie, campers." (The credits finally disappear, and the panning shot of the forest continues.)

(Katie suddenly stands up.)

Katie: You know what? No. No! I am not going to "enjoy the movie", asshole. I'm not even going to watch it! I'd rather gouge my eyeballs out with a rusty spoon than subject myself to a single second of what will surely be the worst movie of all time!

Noah: You're free to go outside and hang out with Trent instead whenever you so desire.

Katie: I guess I can give it five minutes. (She sits back down and crosses her arms.)

(The movie continues its establishing shot, moving slowly past the trees within the forest. Suddenly, a man wearing a paper bag mask steps out of the darkness. Bloodstains cover his clothes, splattered across the front of his shirt. He reaches behind his back and pulls out a large knife, dripping with blood. He then begins polishing it, whistling nonchalantly as he goes about his work. He does this for a minute or so. The serial killer then stops and examines the knife for a moment, before nodding to himself. Then he flips it into the air. However, when it comes back down, he catches it by the blade instead of by the handle.)

Serial Killer: OW! ***************************! (He hurls the knife away and frantically clutches his hand, which is gushing and spraying blood all over the place. Then he rips off his mask, revealing Chris's agonized face.) AUUUUUUGGGGHHHHHHHH! THE PAIN! THE PAIN! AUGH, IT'S UNBEARABLE! (He drops to his knees, blood still gushing everywhere.) MY HAND! MY F**KING HAND!

Chef (from behind the camera): Yo, man, I don't know what sorta acting pills you took this morning, but this is your best take yet. Keep it up!

Chris: I'M NOT ACTING RIGHT NOW! (Chef is silent for a moment.)

Chef: Wait... so you're saying this ain't part of the script?

Chris: NO IT IS NOT! I'M ACTUALLY BLEEDING TO DEATH!

Chef: ...Should I stop filming?

Chris: YES, YOU FAT, INCOMPETENT BASTARD!

Chef: Okay, you do not need to give me that sass, mister. You're the one who wanted to get all ambitious and sh** and twirl around an actual knife. It aint my fault you don't got the coordination to not severely injure yo' clumsy white ass.

Chris: IT'S CALLED DEDICATION TO THE CRAFT! DID YOU REALLY THINK I WAS GONNA USE A FAKE KNIFE?! I WANTED THIS TO BE AUTHENTIC! I WAS JUST TRYING TO FULLY SELL THE PART! AUGH!

Chef: Wait, let me get this straight. So you're saying you were actually going to stab the other actors? Because if so, you do know can't do that, right?

Chris: WHY NOT?!

Chef: Because that's called third-degree homicide.

Chris: NO, IT'S CALLED METHOD ACTING! IT'S WHAT I DO! NOW STOP F**KING RECORDING! (The camera then cuts out, transitioning into the next scene.)

Courtney: Wait a second. So out of all the takes for the introductory scene, that's the one Chris ended up choosing?

Bridgette: Don't ask me.

Confession Cam

Chef (smirking to himself): Chris just so happened to put me in charge of choosing the best footage. (He laughs.) And it certainly was my favorite take.

End of Confessionals

Noah: Well, I guess that random Chef confessional that just appeared out of nowhere is a sufficient explanation. (Ezekiel turns back to Noah, pencil in hand.)

Ezekiel: So, just for future reference, is it a common trope in horror movies for the serial killer to maim them self in a painful and embarrassing manner fifteen seconds into the film?

Noah (sarcastically): Oh yeah. All the time.

Ezekiel: Interesting. Very interesting. (He scribbles it down on his notepad.)

(The movie now shows an overhead shot of a cliff. A car sits parked at the edge, looking out over the crashing waves below. Slowly, the camera pans downward, zooming towards the back window of the car. Through the glass, the shadows of a couple making out with one another can be seen.)

Izzy (grinning from ear to ear): Oh, yes. (She rubs her hands together.) Those two are soooo dead. (Ezekiel looks up from his notepad and nods in agreement.)

Ezekiel: Totally. Sitting in a car like that with all the windows rolled up is gonna get you some major carbon monoxide poisoning if you're not careful, eh.

Bridgette: Um, actually, I think Izzy just means that those two are probably going to be the killer's first victims. (Ezekiel gasps.)

Ezekiel: WHAT?! Why?! That makes no sense! Why would the killer want to harm the innocent beauty of young love?!

Katie: It's just another trope, dumbass. Everyone who makes out in a horror movie dies. That's just how it works.

Ezekiel: So what you're saying is that I need to make sure to not make oo't with any girls today if I want to survive? (He shakes his head.) Man, that's gonna be hard. I don't know if I'll be able to resist the temptation...

Katie: Just deal with it like every other time you don't have a girl to make out with. Which is every day of your life.

Ezekiel: Stellar advice! (He scribbles it down in his notepad.)

Confession Cam

Ezekiel: Chris told us to take notes to help us in the challenges today, so that's exactly what I'm doing. All those other fools think they already know all there is to know aboo't horror movies. And they all think I'm just a noob, and nothing else, eh. Noob, noob, noob. But you know what rhymes with noob? Uh... boob. Boob rhymes with noob. (He pauses.) I don't know where I was going with that. Anyways, what I'm trying to say is that I won't be a noob for much longer, eh. And then when I kick butt in today's challenges, everyone else will realize that Zeke ain't to be messed with!

End of Confessionals

Maze Clearing

(DJ sprints into the clearing, breathing heavily. He then stops and wipes the sweat from his brow, before examining his surroundings.)

DJ: Whew... I made it! HALLELUJAH! (He now stands in a large circular area. Instead of hard concrete like the rest of the maze, the ground here is a soft, grassy surface. Directly across the clearing from DJ are two large metal gates with two keyholes on each. One gate is labeled "DJ" and one is labeled "Gwen". Through the gates, DJ can make out the inside of Redemption Cabin Arena. Sitting in the center of the arena past the gates is a large glowing crystal goblet. DJ then looks around the rest of the clearing. Lining the outer edge are 6 different passageway entrances, three to each side of him. To the right of each entrance is a large red button. Dimly lit torches are mounted on all the walls, and the moon hangs high overhead. DJ lets out a low whistle.)

DJ: Wow! Look at this place! Production really went all out this time around. (He takes a deep breath.) All right, DJ. You can do this. Just get the two keys, and you're good to go. YOU CAN DO THIS! BOOYAH! (He sprints over to the nearest passageway entrance; however, he quickly comes to a stop once he reaches its outer edge. As DJ stands there, he suddenly feels a cold, foreboding chill run throughout his entire body. He shivers, frowning.) Hmm... I didn't feel this cold a second ago... and I certainly didn't have this sense that my whole life is about to come crashing down in a horrific display as I leave this unforgiving world without so much as a trace left in my memory... (He shrugs.) Must just be my imagination. (He then jogs off into the darkness. Chris, meanwhile, is watching this all unfold from a TV screen within the arena, grinning to himself.)

Chris: Perfect. I was hoping he would choose that path. This is going to be very fun to watch. (He lets out an evil cackle. Chris then turns to Chef.) Care to place a wager, my friend? Do you think DJ will make it back to the clearing alive?

Chef: I got 100 dollars on him dying. (Chris smirks.)

Chris: Oh really? Is that what you think? Well, I have 200 dollars that says... that he's also going to die. (He sighs.) Welp, this is no fun. I hate when we agree like this!

Chef: I say he'll die within the next 10 minutes.

Chris: Really? I say he'll die within the next 5! (He grins.) There we go. It's a bet. (They shakes hands. DJ, meanwhile, continues to jog down the passageway. It slowly gets narrower and darker, until finally, he emerges into another, much smaller clearing, lit by torches on all sides. There, in the center, sits a large golden key, glinting in the moonlight. DJ laughs.)

DJ: Wow! The first key already? This is easy! (He walks over and picks up the key. Chris's head suddenly appears on a TV screen nearby.)

Chris: Excellent work, DJ! You've successfully picked up your first key. (DJ grins at him.)

DJ: Yep. And it wasn't even hard!

Chris: That's good. Because it wasn't supposed to be.

DJ: Huh?

Chris: Oh, DJ... looks like you already forgot. Remember what I said? The guard won't attack you until you've taken the key from its spot. That's the rule, and that's why you didn't have any issues getting here. But now that you have it... well, I'll let her do the talking. (He beckons back towards the passageway. DJ whips around in that direction. All he can make out is a dark silhouette, looming among the shadows. Slowly, the figure takes a step forward into the moonlight. DJ frowns as he looks at the figure.)

DJ: Huh? (Slowly walking towards him is a little girl, wearing a pale white dress. She has dark black hair, which is entirely covering her face. DJ laughs nervously and turns to Chris.) I don't get it, Chris. The only person here is a little girl!

Chris: Yes. That's the guard.

DJ: She's the guard?!

DJ: Yes she is. Seriously, you should leave. (DJ chuckles.)

DJ: Why? She doesn't seem that scary. If anything, she seems sorta cute! Heh heh. (He turns back to the girl and smiles at her.) Hey there, little girl. Are you lost? Where are your parents? (He frowns as he looks closer at her.) And why is your hair down like that? Are you sad? Why don't you show me your—HOLY SWEET MOTHER OF GOD WHAT THE F**K IS THAT SH**?! (The girl has now lifted her head and is looking directly at him. To DJ's horror, her entire face is decaying, resembling that of a corpse. Her eyes are filled with vengeful rage.) CHRIS! I GOT A MAJOR PROBLEM ON MY HANDS!

Chris (grinning): Ah, so I see you've now become fully acquainted with Samara.

DJ: WHO?!

Chris: Samara Morgan. She was the star of the 2002 American remake of the Japanese horror flick "The Ring". Any other questions?

DJ: Um, YEAH! What's up with her face, man?!

Chris: She's dead. That's what's up. (DJ stares at him in confusion.) Let me explain. A long time ago, Samara began displaying strange supernatural abilities as a young girl, which caused her adoptive mom to go insane and throw her down a well before committing suicide. In other words, a normal Tuesday in my family. (He laughs sadly.) Anyways, Samara didn't die instantly like her mother intended. No, it took the poor girl 7 days until she kicked the bucket. That's gotta blow.

DJ: B-but… she's alive now, right? (He points frantically at the girl.) She's right here! So… so that's good!

Chris: No, DJ. That's not good.

DJ: Why… why not?

Chris: Well, for starters, Samara now kills every person she comes across as a means of revenge. (DJ frowns.)

DJ: You're right. That's not good. (He glances over at Samara, who is now just fifty yards away from him.) But I don't get it. How did she come back to life?

Chris: As time went on, nobody ever discovered Samara's body, and a rental cabin was eventually built on top of the well. Somehow, Samara's corpse projected her memories into a VCR tape inside of the cabin. Someone discovered the tape a while back, and it wasn't long before it began to circulate. Legend has it that those who make the unfortunate mistake of watching the tape become cursed, and have 7 days to live. Once those 7 days are up, the ghost of Samara exits their TV and kills them. The only way to break the curse is to make a copy of the tape and send it to someone else, thus continuing the cycle of death.

DJ: But that… that can't possibly be true, right? That's just a myth!

Chris: Oh, but it's not. I should know, after all. I watched it.

DJ: You DID?!

Chris: Yep! It was just last Christmas, actually. Chef sent me the tape, telling me to watch it right away. (He giggles.) It's always so cute when he tries to use his gift as a means to assassinate me. And all I got him was an iTunes giftcard. Shameful on my part. (He shakes his head.) Anyways, I didn't watch the tape until a couple months after that, mostly because I had to go find someone who still had a VCR player. Took a long time, but eventually I did. And sure enough, seven days later, Samara climbed out of my TV. (He scowls.) Which, by the way, totally interrupted the Spurs-Cavaliers game I was watching, but whatever. I didn't really care about not getting to watch the rest of it. I mean, it was only one of the BEST GAMES OF THE WHOLE GODDAMN NBA SEASON. (He takes a deep breath.) Heh heh. Sorry. That's still a sore subject with me.

DJ: All good, man.

Chris: Thanks. Anyways when I first saw Samara, I thought she just was another one of my adoring superfans. They're always trying out new and creative ways to break into my house, you see. It seemed reasonable that one would eventually come up with the idea of converting their body into a collection of broadcast signals of varying wavelengths and emitting them through my parabolic reflector antennae and into my TV set, before rematerializing in my living room.

DJ: Wouldn't that be sorta breaking the laws of physics or something?

Chris: Probably. But to catch a glimpse of this face? Most of my fans are more than willing to completely destroy the entire fabric that constitutes the space-time continuum. Anyways, I soon realized who she actually was. I'm not gonna lie, I was pretty scared—partially from the fact that I had a murderous demon girl about to end my life quietly and without ceremony, partially from the fact that I realized I had left my groceries in my car, which wouldn't have been a problem had I not purchased all of my dairy products for the week, all of which needed to have been refrigerated by that point. (He sighs.) What a goddamn waste. Anyways, Samara quickly began to advance. Luckily, before she could get to me, I hit her over the head with a croquet mallet that had conveniently been sitting next to my couch. Then I shoved her body in a grocery bag.

DJ: Whoa. How'd you manage to do that?

Chris: By being awesome, obviously. Anyways, since that little incident, I've kept Samara stored in my basement. I didn't want to just get rid of her, because that would be a waste, y'know? I mean, this little girl has probably killed over 10,000 people. Pretty impressive, if you ask me. I just knew a superstar like that belonged in a challenge here on Total Drama. And now, I finally have one that suits her. (He glances off to the side.) Speaking of which, you should probably skedaddle. (DJ looks over in the same direction. Samara is now just 10 yards away. DJ screams.)

DJ: OH CRAP! (He starts to run away, but immediately trips on a vine and falls to the ground. DJ tries to get up, but finds his foot tangled within the vine. He looks frantically back at Samara, who is approaching at a rapid pace now. Chris cringes.)

Chris: Oh, man. This will not be fun to watch. (He pulls out a bucket of popcorn.) Now it will be! (DJ frantically pulls on the vine, trying to free his foot. He looks back at Samara, who has stopped just five yards away, standing in front of him.)

DJ: H-hey! S-Samara! H-how's it going? You're looking g-great t-today. I l-love what you've d-done with y-your hair. It looks really nice.

Chris: He's lying! He hates your hair! He thinks your gross weave is ratchet as f**k! (Samara suddenly turns and looks directly at Chris. Chris grins.) Yeah, you heard me. That's what he really thinks. Now go brutally attack him. (The host rubs his hands together, beaming.) This is great. Imagine what people are gonna say when they hear we got the girl from The Ring on our show! They're gonna love it! Man, we are going to pull in so much cash from this episode. (Samara continues to stare at him. Chris looks back at her, scowling.) What are you doing, woman? Stop looking at me and go focus on him! He's the competitor! And kill him quickly, please. I have 100 dollars riding on this. (Suddenly, Samara lifts her head, and glares directly into Chris's eyes, her face filled with rage. Chris cringes, and tries to look away.) Ew. Gurl, I don't wanna sound rude here, but you could seriously use a facial makeover. You're, what, 7? You look you're about 80. I'll book you an appointment with my plastic surgeon. Now get back to work. (Suddenly, Samara takes a step towards the TV screen. Chris rolls his eyes.)

Chris: Oh, I get it. You're still angry with me, huh? Look, you're the one who was gonna kill me back then. I had no choice but to resort to self-defense! (Samara continues to walk towards him. Chris backs away slightly, trying to keep a calm demeanor.) Hey now! Don't even try to get any closer! I've got another croquet mallet, and I will use it if I have to! See? It's right… (He reaches down next to him, but sees that the croquet mallet is nowhere to be seen.) …Here? What the…?! Damn it! I must have left it back at my house! (He turns back to Samara.) Okay… heh heh… let's just calm down for a second… let's not do anything unreasonable, okay? If you have beef with someone, it should be your mother. Go settle it with her. (He pauses.) Oh wait. She's also dead. Hmm. Well, we have a Confessional that you're free to use if you want to talk about your issues, which I'm sure are quite extensive. (Samara just continues to approach the screen.)

Chris (scowling): Listen! I'm gonna say this one time, and one time only! You do NOT wanna mess with me, okay?! (He crosses his arms.) Besides, you couldn't mess with me even if you tried. (Chris beckons in front of him.) We've got a nice, solid TV screen separating us. And it's not like you can pass through those with ease. (He pauses.) F**k. (Samara then lunges through the TV screen and tackles Chris off-camera. There are loud banging and crashing noises as the host screams and begs for mercy. DJ, meanwhile, finally frees his foot from the vine, and stands up. He glances back at the TV screen for a moment, listening to the commotion. Then he shrugs and runs off down the passageway, clutching the key in his hands.)

Confession Cam

DJ: Maybe I should've helped Chris back there. But honestly, the dude was ready to watch me die. Not cool, man!

Chris (his hair sticking up wildly and his skin deathly pale): Ugh… I should've known that The Ring girl would end up being a total flop. Bitch has absolutely zero stage presence. And she just can't help but walk through every damn TV screen she sees. Whatever. I have a feeling the rest of my guards won't fail me. They BETTER not. I'm paying them 9 dollars an hour to be here. That's 9 more dollars than I pay anyone else on this show.

End of Confessionals

Back at camp...

Mess Hall

(Meanwhile, the campers in the Mess Hall continue to watch the movie.)

(The camera is still trained on the car where the couple is making out. Slowly, it zooms in through the window. The screen then cuts to Chris's sweaty, smiling face. He heaves a sigh.)

Chris: Oh, baby... that was so hot...

Courtney (frowning): Wait a minute. Why is Chris here? I thought he was playing the killer.

Noah: He is.

Courtney: But now he's also playing one of the victims?!

Noah: C'mon, Courtney. Did you really expect Chris to be satisfied having only one part in his own film?

Courtney: I guess you're right. I personally just want to know what kind of actress would actually be willing to even film this kind of scene with Chris of all people.

(The camera then cuts to the girl. She slowly lifts her head and smiles. To the campers' horror, it's Chris wearing a blonde wig.)

Chris: Oh, I know, baby... you rocked my world.

Noah: I think you have your answer.

Courtney: I think I need a barf bag.

Male Chris: I'm so glad we get to spend this time together...

Female Chris: Me too. Ugh... you're just so stunningly attractive and charismatic in a way that is totally fit for hosting a TV show... and your on-camera poise just turns me on sooooooo much...

Male Chris: I feel the same way, darling.

(The two Chris's start to lean towards one another, their lips puckered.)

Everyone: NOOOOOO!

(But it's too late. The Chris's begin making out, grabbing at each others' hair and moaning in ecstacy.)

(Everyone stares at the screen, speechless. Even Izzy is at a loss for words. The entire audience just continues to watch, all horrified. The scene then finally, mercifully ends. Katie suddenly stands up, enraged.)

Katie: That's it! I gave it five minutes. And now I have an image in my brain that will haunt me for the rest of my life. I don't care what you say, I actually WOULD rather spend time with Trent than lay witness to this horrifying monstrosity of a motion picture! (Everyone looks to her, waiting for her to leave. Katie just continues to stand there. Then she sighs.) I'll give it another five minutes. (She sits back down and crosses her arms. Cody suddenly scoots up next to Katie in the back row, grinning.)

Cody: How about you turn that frown upside down? (Katie doesn't even turn to him.)

Katie: Go away, or I'll turn you upside down and drop you off a cliff. (Cody grins slyly at her.)

Cody: I love how you can take anything I say to you and weave it into a threat of physical violence against me. It's so hot.

Katie: I love how you can take any threat of physical violence I make towards you and think that I'm joking. It's so sad.

Cody: Looks like we're a match made in heaven. (He winks at her. Katie suddenly turns to him, her teeth gritted together.)

Katie: You really have some nerve coming back here and talking to me like this, you little punk. You must either be really stupid, or really f**king stupid. (Cody sighs.)

Cody: Look. I know you're angry with me, babe.

Katie: Oh, I'm more than a little angry.

Cody: And you have all the right in the world to be.

Katie: Good. Now get lost.

Cody: Okay, so I almost ruined your plan last night... I'll admit it.

Katie: Almost? No, you completely screwed it up! Your flip with Noah practically ruined EVERYTHING I had worked for up until that point! You're just lucky the other side had an even bigger moron in Geoff to out-screw up your your screw-up! But either way, I can't trust you anymore. You're out of the alliance.

Cody: Don't say that, babe! Look, we all make mistakes. What I did was wrong. I should have been more honest with you about how I felt. And I shouldn't have just flipped like that so suddenly. (He smiles.) But hey, you got what you wanted, right? Gwen is gone. And while I'm sad that she had to leave, at the end of the day, I'm still very flattered that you felt it was necessary. (Katie stares at him in confusion.)

Katie: Huh?

Cody: I mean, it's true, the bond that Gwen and I shared between us was very strong… it would be pretty hard not to be jealous. (Katie stares at him.)

Katie: I don't follow. (Cody chuckles.)

Cody: You just didn't want to share me with another woman, did you? You wanted me all to yourself. And like I said, I'm very flattered. (He clasps her hand in his.) But you really didn't have to do that, Katie. Honestly. Believe me when I say that I only have room for one woman in my heart. (He stares romantically into her eyes.) And that woman is you. (Katie rips her hand free from his.)

Katie: Oh my God. You actually think I targeted Gwen because of you?!

Cody: Yes! What other reason is there?

Katie: Hmm… I can only think of about 1,567 reasons that are more plausible than the one you came up with. (She shakes her head.) How could you possibly think I care about you at all, let alone enough to allow my feelings completely alter my voting plans?

Cody: A reliable source informed me.

Katie: Who?

Cody: That's confidential.

Katie: I said, WHO?!

Cody: Fine! Geez. It was Noah. Right before the Campfire Ceremony. In fact, he told me that both you and Gwen were targeting one another because you both liked me, and therefore wanted the other one gone to reduce the competition. (Katie groans.)

Katie: I have one question, Cody. Did it ever cross your mind that Noah might actually have been, I don't know, lying? (Cody frowns.)

Cody: No. Why would he lie to me?

Katie: So he could get you to vote for Trent, obviously! (Cody stares at her in shock.)

Cody: You think so? (He shakes his head.) Wow. I never would've pegged Noah for a liar. He seemed to me like such a good, honest dude!

Katie: Then you seriously need to work on your character judgment.

Cody: The thing is, usually I'd be more skeptical around Noah. But for some reason, this time I believed every word he said without a second thought!

Katie: You want to know why that is? It's because Noah told you a lie that you wanted to believe. He knew that if you thought that two girls who both liked you were in danger, you'd be willing to vote for anyone else to save them. Thus, he managed to get you to flip on our alliance, without you even realizing it. (Suddenly, a thought passes through her mind.) Now that I'm thinking about it, Noah definitely had an ulterior motive to his plan.

Cody: Huh? What do you mean?

Katie: Sure, Noah wanted to get Trent out. That was his primary goal last night. And so he needed someone to flip to make his plan work. But why'd he choose you, Cody? Why couldn't he have gone to Izzy? Or Ezekiel? Or someone else? Their votes were up-for-grabs, too. No, he definitely chose you for a reason. And I think that reason has romantic implications behind it. (Cody stares at her.)

Cody: Wait… you think it was because he likes me?!

Katie: No! Sorry, that's not what I meant to say. No, it's because I think Noah likes me. (Cody gasps.)

Cody: No.

Katie: I hate to say it, but it's the truth. Noah is completely and totally infatuated with me. He tries to hide it, but it's obvious. (She turns to Cody.) The problem is, who's his number one roadblock? You are, Cody. He knows you're the only one standing between me and him. He's jealous of what we have, and he wants it for himself. That's why he tricked you into flipping. He knew it would make me angry with you, opening the door for him to swoop in and claim me as his prize. (Cody gasps.)

Cody: Whoa. You're so right. This all makes perfect sense. All the pieces are coming together. It was so obvious all along! I initially thought Noah tries to avoid talking to you at all costs because he legitimately doesn't like you. But no- that's obviously because he actually DOES like you! (He grits his teeth.) Damn it. And Noah even told me he wasn't interested!

Katie: Just another one of his filthy lies. (She looks sternly at Cody.) Noah must be stopped, Cody. It's simply a matter of principle. I have too much respect for the sanctity of this game to play it with two-faced scum like him. So you and I need to do whatever it takes to send him home next. Agreed?

Cody: Oh, 1000 percent. Noah is done for. I can't believe I ever even considered him my friend.

Katie: So you have no intention of remaining Noah's ally?

Cody: No way! I hate him! He's practically dead to me! I'd strangle him before I shake his hand! (Katie smiles.)

Katie: That's what I like to hear.

Confession Cam

Katie (laughing): Man… That was just too easy. All it took was one simple lie to turn Cody back against Noah. The loser is so insecure that he bought it right away. And as much as I'm sick of Cody's stupid face and his stupid smile with that stupid gap in his stupid teeth that his stupid orthodontist should've fixed years ago... for now, I need Cody on my side. If I want to make sure Noah is the next to go, I need to turn as many people as I can against him. That being said, Cody's lifespan in this game is much shorter than he thinks. In fact, he's probably gone after Noah. (She shrugs again.) What can I say? I don't forgive. And I don't forget.

Cody: Noah, you broke the number one rule of the bro code: don't EVER try and jack another dude's girl. I told you it would be trouble. But you didn't listen. And now, you're getting the big guns. (He lifts his arms up and flexes them.) See that? When I say "big guns", i actually mean my subsantial biceps. Anyways, I can't wait to send Noah packing. It's gonna be the biggest blindside of the season, for sure.

Noah: You know, people really should talk quieter when they're in a theater. Especially when the person they're talking about is literally sitting one row in front of them.

End of Confessionals

Maze Clearing

(DJ sprints back into the clearing, carrying the key with him. He frantically presses on the red button next to the exit, before lunging forward onto the grass. Suddenly, there's a loud groan, and a massive stone wall begins rising up out of the ground behind him. It continues to grow higher and higher, until it finally stops with a jolt, sealing the entrance shut. It now looks as though the passageway never even existed. DJ turns back towards the center of the clearing and breathes a sigh of relief.)

DJ: Whew. Thank the lord. I made it! (He slowly stands up, still wiping the sweat from his brow.) That was a close one. But I'm alive. One key down, one key to go. (He looks around.) Damn, is Gwen still not here? Wow. I've got a huge lead! Then there's no time to lose! (He shoves the key in his pocket, and makes his way across the clearing to the other side, where the three other passageway entrances are located.) Hmm... which one should I choose? I guess I'll go with the middle one. (He takes a step forward. However, the moment he does, he suddenly hears a voice behind him.)

Momma DJ: Don't you even THINK about it! (DJ stops in his tracks, and turns around in shock. Sure enough, there is his mom, standing in the middle of the clearing. DJ's jaw drops open.)

DJ: ...M-momma? (He takes a step towards her.) Is it... is it really you?

Momma DJ: YES, it's really me!

DJ: How... how did you get here?

Momma DJ: That aint important! Not get over here, fool! (DJ runs over to her, his arms outstretched.)

DJ: Oh, momma! I'm so glad to see you! (He tries to hug her, but Momma DJ evades his grasp.)

Momma DJ: Nuh uh! You aint gettin' no hug right NOW, mister! (DJ looks at her in surprise and lowers his arms.)

DJ: W-why not?

Momma DJ: Why? Because you done been an idiot, that's why! (She places her hands on her hips.) Just what do you think you're doing?! (DJ frowns.)

DJ: I'm competing in a duel, momma! (He grins.) And I'm in the lead, too! Aren't you proud of me? (Momma DJ scoffs.)

Momma DJ: PROUD of you? Why in God's name should I be PROUD of you?!

DJ: B-because... I'm facing my fears! Right? I'm conquering my personal inhibitions! (His mother crosses her arms.)

Momma DJ: And what has that gotten you so far?! Huh?! You almost just got yo' ass wrecked by an undead white bitch. She was THIS close to killing you. You're damn LUCKY to have gotten out of there alive. But what do you do the moment after you escape from that business? You decide you wanna go do that sh** again! Well, you might not be so goddamn lucky next time, you know. You might just-

DJ: I know I might die! I'm well aware of that fact. But don't you understand, momma? Every time I step outside, there are ways that I could die. But I can't keep worrying about all the hypothetical risks that might not even exist! I have to live in the moment, and follow my heart! It's the only way I can truly live a fulfilling life!

Momma DJ: DID I LOOK LIKE I WAS DONE TALKING, BOY?! (She rears her arm back and slaps him across the face, sending him hurtling through the air until he smashes into one of the stone walls near the entrances. DJ falls to sitting position, groaning in pain. Momma DJ then walks up to him and roughly grabs his face.)

Momma DJ: You listen to me, son. You do as I say. And when I say you STOP, you STOP! I didn't spend 64 strenuous hours birthin' yo' fat 13 lb. baby ass only for you to die of your own stupidity. (She sighs.) I just want you to be safe. I don't want you to get hurt.

DJ (clutching his head): Kinda ironic for you to say after you slapped me so hard I smashed into a solid rock wall.

Momma DJ: I was just trying to teach you a lesson, boy! Look- it's a basic concept. Do you wanna LIVE? Or do you wanna DIE? Cause if you go and try to get that other key, you is probably a dead man. It's that simple. (DJ looks at her for a long time. Finally, he starts to nod.)

DJ: You're right. You're right! What have I been thinking?! It's not worth it. None of this is worth it!

Momma DJ: That's the right attitude. (She helps him up.) Now let's go home, son. (DJ pauses.)

DJ: But... should I really just quit like this? Should I really leave this all behind? Including all of my friends? Should I really give up my shot at the prize, just because I don't want to take a risk? Should I really live the rest of my life wondering what could have been, filled with insatiable regret?

Momma DJ: I'll make you some of my lemon cookies if you come with me.

DJ: WITH THE SPRINKLES?!

Momma DJ: Oh, you best believe there will be some goddamn sprinkles.

DJ: Then I'm in! Let's get out of here! (He grabs her hand, and the two start to walk away.)

?: NOT SO FAST! (DJ and his mom turn in the direction of the voice in surprise. There, standing ten yards away, is Martin Luther King Jr. He sits atop a giant hippopotamus, a cape billowing behind him. A glowing white hue surrounds his body.)

DJ: MARTIN?! You're here, too?!

Martin Luther King Jr: DJ, you must listen to me. You cannot give up. If you give up now, everything you've done will have no purpose.

DJ: B-but... Martin... I have to! It's what my momma wants!

Martin Luther King Jr: No. You're wrong. (He points to DJ's momma.) That is not even your actual mother. That woman is just a figment of your tortured imagination. She is your fear manifested in a vivid hallucination. (He shakes his head.) No, it's not your mom that's holding you back right now, DJ. It's you. (DJ gasps, and turns to his mom.)

DJ: Is this true?! (Momma DJ crosses her arms.)

Momma DJ: Hell no it aint true! (She turns to Martin Luther King Jr.) Fool, you better get outta here. I don't care if your valiant efforts during the 1960s led to some of the most substantial civil rights gains of all time for African Americans. I don't care you're one of the greatest, kindest men of all time who quite literally changed the world for the better. I'll still give you a beat down!

Martin Luther King Jr: I do not doubt that you will. You are a very sassy woman. But I am not afraid of you. You cannot hurt me. (He turns back to DJ.) DJ, you must continue your mission. You cannot back down now. You must forge onward in your quest. (DJ slowly nods.)

DJ: I know you want me to, Martin. And I want to as well. But... what if I really am too afraid?

Martin Luther King Jr: We all feel afraid sometimes, DJ. In fact, there were many times during my own mission where I thought my life was all but over.

DJ: Really?

Martin Luther King Jr (sarcastically): Oh no, I felt perfectly safe when I was getting chased by vicious lynch mobs trying to tear me limb-from-limb.

DJ: Oh yeah. How in the world did you have the courage to face that, Martin?

Martin Luther King Jr: I forced myself to have the strength. (He shrugs.) It's true, I could have decided to just play it safe my whole life. I could have chosen to just hide in my house all day watching Netflix, allowing society to continue in the direction it was heading. But I knew that I had to stop segregation at all costs. And I was willing to take any risk to achieve that goal, even if it meant sacrificing my own life. I would hope that you could follow a similar philosophy, DJ. Now do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?

DJ: Wait... so if I win this duel, I'll be able to end segregation? Awesome!

Martin Luther King Jr: *sigh*... Close enough. Anyways, you must go now, my son. The Goth one approaches. Your time is limited. (He points towards the passageway entrance.) So you must now proceed onward, my brother! (DJ frowns.)

DJ: Wait... so am I your son, or your brother?

Martin Luther King Jr: You are both.

DJ: But... that doesn't make biological sense.

Martin Luther King Jr: It's all just a figure of speech! I'm implying that I care for you as if I were your father, but I also respect you as if I were your brother.

DJ: ...Oh. Okay. (He pauses.) It still seems a little incestuous.

Martin Luther King Jr (rubbing his temples): Just. Leave. (DJ is about to walk away, but Momma DJ suddenly grabs his arm.)

Momma DJ: NOPE! I don't think so. He aint going nowhere. He's gonna stay right here with his loving mother, where he's safe. Now I think you've outstayed your welcome! So ride that stupid hippo of yours away!

Martin Luther King Jr: It is too late for your last-ditch efforts, I'm afraid to inform you. I have successfully freed DJ from your oppressive grasp. He will no longer be a slave to his fear. He is a free man. Like he should be.

Momma DJ: WE'LL SEE ABOUT THAT. (She runs towards Martin Luther King Jr and lunges up at him, trying to strangle him.)

Martin Luther King Jr: I didn't want to have to do this, but... (He suddenly whips out a sledge hammer and smashes her across the face with it. "Momma DJ" flies backward and crashes to the ground. She lays there for a second, groaning. Then she explodes into a cloud of purple dust. DJ gasps.)

DJ: MOMMA! (He runs toward her, but MLK grabs his shoulder, halting him.)

Martin Luther King Jr: No, DJ. You must remember. That wasn't your momma. (He points to DJ's head.) That was your doubt. But I have purged it from your soul. Now you will no longer be scared, at least for the time being. (DJ glances at the sledge hammer Martin Luther King still has gripped in his hand.)

DJ: Wait... I thought you had a policy of nonviolence.

Martin Luther King Jr: Okay... you do know I'm not actually Martin Luther King Jr, right?

DJ: You're not?!

Martin Luther King Jr: Dude, I'm riding on a f**king hippopotamus.

DJ: I thought that was just your way of going green with your means of transportation!

Martin Luther King Jr: It is indeed a fine alternative to the destructive fossil fuels of most modern day vehicles. But no, DJ. Like that image of your mother, I am also simply a figment of your imagination.

DJ: If that's the case, then what do you represent?

Martin Luther King Jr: I am your courage, DJ. (DJ gasps.)

DJ: Really?

Martin Luther King Jr: Really. And I know that you can accomplish anything. You can win this duel! Now go get that second key! (DJ nods with determination.)

DJ: Yes sir! (He enthusiastically salutes, before sprinting off down the pathway, cheering. Martin Luther King Jr stands there for a moment in silent. Then he looks over at one of the nearby TV screens.)

Martin Luther King Jr: Yo, Chris. You in there? (The TV screen switches on, displaying Chris's face.)

Chris: Yeah? How can I help you, Martin?

Martin Luther King Jr: One question. Do you still have that bet going between you and Chef?

Chris: Yep. You want in?

Martin Luther King Jr: Of course I do. I'm always down for a little gambling.

Chris: Awesome. So what do you wanna wager?

Martin Luther King Jr: Let's see... I got 500 bucks that says DJ dies within two minutes after he takes the key. (Chris raises an eyebrow.)

Chris: Whoa. You're really upping the ante.

Martin Luther King Jr: Go big or go home. That's the motto.

Chris: Well said, my friend. Well said.

Confession Cam

DJ: It's so nice to have people that believe in me!

End of Confessionals

Maze Clearing

(Gwen finally reaches the clearing, having walked the entire way. She looks around, frowning.)

Gwen: And what the hell is this supposed to be? (Chris, who is watching Gwen from his TV screen, smirks to himself.)

Chris: Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to show up. (He watches as the Goth girl slowly walks around the clearing, obviously puzzled.) Ha! Look at her. She has no absolutely idea what to do. She's completely screwed now. And it's all because she refused to listen to me. (He chuckles.) Maybe that'll teach her that my advice is more important than she thinks. (He beckons Chef over.) Watch this, Chef. It's gonna be hilarious. She's never gonna figure out what she needs to do. (Gwen, meanwhile, has walked over to her labeled gate. She sees the two key holes sticking out of the metal.)

Gwen (muttering to herself): All right, so it looks like I need to find two keys to open this thing. (She turns back around.) And I probably have to search in those passageways. (She nods and smiles.) Seems pretty simple. (Chris stops smiling. Chef shrugs.)

Chef: Looks like she figured that sh** out pretty damn quickly. I guess she doesn't need your help after all. (Chris scowls at him.)

Chris: Go away.

Chef: I'm just say-

Chris: GO AWAY!

Chef: Geez! Fine. (He walks away, shaking his head. Meanwhile, back in the maze, Gwen heads over to the right side of the clearing. She examines the three different entrances, before walking up to the one in the middle.)

Gwen: I guess I can go search in this one first. (She suddenly notices the large red button to the right of the entrance. Gwen frowns and walks up to it.) And what is this button here for? Is it part of the challenge too? (She shrugs.) Guess it won't hurt to see what it does. (She reaches forward and casually presses the button. There's a loud groan, and suddenly, a massive stone wall begins rising up out of the ground. Gwen jumps backward, and watches in shock as the wall continues to rise until it reaches the same height as the rest of the maze, at which point it stops, sealing the entrance closed. Gwen cringes.) Whoops. Guess I don't want to do that after all. (She walks over and presses the button again. However, the wall won't go back down.)

Gwen: Oh, okay... so whenever I press that button, it's permanent. Better note take note of that. (She then turns and heads through the passageway to left instead. Chris, meanwhile, is watching all this, scowling.)

Chris: Damn it! That stupid woman just screwed everything up! (Chef walks over.)

Chef: Why is that?

Chris: Don't you remember? That passageway was the one that contained the most vicious, deadly monster we had! That thing literally killed thirteen interns before we could wrangle him in and throw him in the maze! And now we don't even get to use him in the challenge! (Chef examines the screen, frowning.)

Chef: Hold on now. I might be completely off here, but didn't Gwen just close up the pathway that DJ went down? (Chris laughs as he turns back towards the screen.)

Chris: C'mon now, Chef. That would be way too coincidental. There's no way that could possiblOHMYGODYOU'RERIGHT. (He quickly switches the camera on his screen to the middle passageway, and sure enough, DJ is strolling down it, humming to himself. Chris's eyes widen.) Oh no. Oooooh noooooo. Oh, this is not good.

Chef: How is he gonna get outta there now?

Chris: I... have no idea. He's actually screwed.

Chef: What do we do?

Chris: I don't know! Maybe he won't take the key, and it won't be a problem. (He suddenly notices on his screen that DJ has now reached the clearing, and has picked up the key. Chris cringes.) Well then. This is awkward. (He coughs nervously and turns to the camera.) Well, folks, it looks like DJ is in quite the predicament, and he doesn't even realize it yet! What will happen now that he has no means of escape? I honestly have no idea. Truly, I don't! (He pauses.) That being said, we'd like to administer a warning that the next segment will most likely contain some graphic bloody images. But don't stop watching! Please! Anyways, we're gonna take a short break, and when we return, the following questions will be answered:

Will I have to write a speech to recite at DJ's funeral? I hope not. I'm pretty busy right now.

Who will win the duel? I have an answer: unless the goal is who can die first, it won't be DJ.

Can Noah manage to lure Izzy into his alliance? Let's hope so, because it looks like DJ will never be an option.

How long can Courtney avoid Trent? Hopefully better than DJ avoided an early death.

Will Trent manage to find the idol he so desperately desires? Did DJ desire something more with his life before it was taken so prematurely?

Where in the world is Geoff? How will he react when he finds out about DJ?

And what new twists await the campers? Aside from the fact that DJ is most likely gone from this earth?

See it all right here on the next terrifying chapter of

Total Drama Returns!

NEXT TIME: As the campers begin their reward and immunity challenges, a couple of frightening new twists are revealed that could shake up the whole game. Meanwhile, one camper accidentally begins a dangerous foray into the spirit world- one that could doom us all.