Author's note: Once again, a chapter posted on time! I'm on a roll! I hope everyone had a great Christmas, and had an awesome New Year. As always, any constructive criticism, challenge ideas, or questions, please direct my way! I'd also love to hear about your favorite part, or who you'd like to see more of!

Oh, and at the request of my wonderful beta, OfficiallyWhelmedSpitfire, I wrote a theme song intro, and added it to the first chapter.

Numbers [1] indicate citation at end of story.

Mystique84 - Thank you so much for the reviews! Glad I could emulate a little of Chris' evil joy when he reviews the footage, haha! And I'm so happy you like the plot! There's lots more secrets on the way, everybody has something to hide! Scax is one of my favorite ships, I can't wait to write them. They come in later, but when they do, it's going to be a doozy! You might be surprised with the direction I'm taking Beth and Justin in...their character arc will be very engaging, I assure you. Duncney fights are the best, never too many of those! I love the idea of B and Bridgette being friends too. Her, B and DJ can start a world peace club, haha! Hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the others!

Chapter 6 - Plants Are Not Your Friends (Day 02, 3rd challenge)

"Last time on Total Drama Turnabout Turncoat!" says Chris, beginning his episode intro. "We welcomed back our contestants, familiar faces from across five seasons, to the newly improved Pahkitew Island! In Total Drama style, we welcomed them with a death defying bus chase, which ended badly for Brick and Duncan, after they were nearly killed in a mega collision!"

"The campers survival skills were put to the test when they were asked to find their team's bunkers, in one of the four treacherous wastelands. During this challenge, we garnered a few missing people, Alejandro fell down a waterfall, Justin and Beth disappeared in the rainforest, and Eva and Shawn jumped into a ravine to avoid being sucked dry by massive mosquitoes.

While Courtney's team was the first to discover their bunker, Jasmine's team was the only one which succeeded in getting all their teammates inside, plus one. The plus one, Sadie, bravely held her friend afloat in quicksand, for over eight hours! Unfortunately, Katie had to be airlifted off the island for her injuries, and thus was our first elimination. In the end though, the teams sucked so much we had two more eliminations, the TV show host Blaineley, and little miss Snow White, Ella."

"Tensions are already rising due to our last episode's startling reveal, a traitor has been strategically placed in each team! Will the campers be able to discover the turncoat in their midst, before it's too late? Will Brick be able to power through this season, even with his trauma? Will Courtney and Duncan overcome their differences enough to be able to function? And what terrible challenge do we have today for our campers? Find out next, on Total…Drama…Turnabout Turncoat!"

(Theme song plays - I Wanna Be Famous)

EXT. CAMPGROUND - MID AFTERNOON

A large pelican flies majestically over the mess hall, landing heavily on the edge of the roof. It tilts an eye downwards, eyeing a large blonde man walking out the door, a giant plate of fish held in his hands. The pelican makes a guttural cackling noise, and swoops down, knocking the plate from Owen's hands and gobbling up the fish in one gulp.

Owen screeches at the bird, running after him and shaking his fist. He runs through the campground after it, weaving around the campers gathered there.

The pelican seems to be flying low purposely, taunting the poor, panting Owen.

The bird swoops almost to the ground, nearly in Owen's grasp, then shoots straight up into the air.

Owen, eyes still trained on the bird, runs smack dab into a pole.

No one seems to notice.

"Listen Chris, everyone here has already agreed to help look for Alejandro, Shawn, Justin, Beth and Ezekiel," says Bridgette, standing toe to toe with Chris in the middle of the campground, surrounded by her fellow contestants. "We're not doing a challenge until we find them all." They all nod in assent at her words, for the meantime, united by a common goal.

"This is unbelievable!" Chris sputters. "Since when do you idiots care about each other!?"

"Since we grew the fuck up, Chris!" she returns angrily. "No contestants, no challenges, no show. Help us find them or risk losing ratings, and your job."

He gasps. "Alright, alright! Listen, I have a compromise. I'll give you all an easy little challenge in each of your sectors, that requires you to traverse the entirety of them. You can play the game while looking for your friends!"

Bridgette closes her eyes, inhaling deeply through her nose. She lets it out slowly, unclenching her fists, and speaks through gritted teeth, "Fine. But if they're not found, Chris, I'm sure several people will be ready and willing to make your life very uncomfortable."

He gulps as Jasmine taps her foot on the ground pointedly, and Heather glares daggers.

"Okay, okay, sheesh. Just gimme a minute to pull some random challenge completely out of my ass! No problem at all! Totally not a difficult, non-practical thing to ask me to do!" he gripes, waving his hands in the air dramatically.

"I think the word you're looking for is 'impractical,'" Cameron suggests helpfully.

Chris growls. Actually growls. "Everybody is a damn critic these days. Anybody else wanna tell me what to do? Is this my show or not anymore?!"

No one replies, already broken up into their little groups and wrapped up in conversation.

Gwen, hanging back from the conversations, (because God, is she not in the mood for small talk after the little sleep they had gotten), spots Trent sitting on a log near the fire pit, strumming on his guitar and humming something to himself.

She hesitates, unsure of herself, but with a deep inhale and a determined stride, she approaches him.

"That's a nice song you've got going."

"Huh?" he looks up, eyes widening in surprise. "Oh. Uh, hi, Gwen. Thanks, it's just a little something I'm working on."

She purses her top lip under, toeing the ground awkwardly. "So, um, you're still playing guitar?"

INT. CONFESSIONAL - GWEN

"So, um, you're still playing guitar?" she imitates herself mockingly. "Um, yeah Gwen, considering he's sitting there *bleeping* playing one!"

(static)

He laughs nervously, "Uh, yeah I am." He holds up the guitar and smiles, quirking up his eyebrows. "As you can see."

She winces, "Yeah." Her foot digs deeper into the dirt. She's gonna make a hole to China with the way this is going. "Uh, Trent. I wanted to talk to you about something."

He nods abortively. "Shore. Hit me."

"Duncan has inspired me, weirdly enough, to um… I wanted to apologize. I kinda treated you shittily when you were having the issues with the whole nine's thing?"

"Yeah, Gwen, listen. I have OCD, I didn't know tha—"

"No, no, no. I—," she interrupts him, then blushes. "Sorry."

"It's okay, go on."

"I actually figured that out. I just wanted to tell you that I didn't know at the time, and I was really horrible about it. I didn't even try to understand what was going on."

"Yeah, well, how many kids our age actually knew what OCD is? Or how to react to it, y'know? I don't blame you."

"Yeah." She stops digging her hole. It's about a foot deep. She cautiously sits down on the log next to him. "So… if you can forgive me, could we be friends again?"

"Um, yeah," he stutters. "I mean, absolutely. Yes, sure. I- I, um, I would like that very much."

She laughs, "Gee, there, Trent. Don't get too underwhelmed."

His laugh stutters as much as his voice, "I'm, I'm sorry."

He smiles at her goofily, eyes crinkling at the edges. A breeze tumbles past them, his bangs ruffling, his smell washing over her. Laundry detergent. Engine oil. Citrus lotion.

She shivers. She isn't cold.

"What?" she asks, after she can't stand that look anymore. Can't stand it anymore without doing anything impulsive.

He ducks his head. "I just, y'know, reconciliation all around. Duncan, then you… it's nice. Kinda gets some weight off your chest," he pauses, searching for something to say. Anything to say, to keep her here, keep her talking to him. God, he's always been so bad at small talk.

She worries over her bottom lip, trying to think of something to say. Anything really. God, she sucks at small talk.

"Actually, I was, I was very surprised about Duncan," he offers, slightly desperate.

INT. CONFESSIONAL - TRENT

"Oh, yeah sure! Bring up the ex in your first conversation! Way to go you ass!" (He face-palms)

(static)

"Yeah, I know!" she agrees quickly, grasping at any conversation starter, even if it is about her ex. "He's been doing the whole forgiveness thing a lot. He started with me, and, I think he called up DJ, and Geoff and Bridge, and several other people from the show, um, and just apologized for being a jackass and for not staying in touch. I mean it's so surreal. Not like Duncan at all. But, um, I'm proud of him. He really seems to have turned over a new leaf."

"Yeah, I think it's great. I think we could actually be friends. I never really thought that could happen again with Duncan, but, I don't know. Maybe. He seems to be a whole new man." He chuckles. "Except of course when it comes to Courtney."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh my God, yeah. What's up with that? With everything else he's so mature, but when it comes to Courtney," she snorts, "he reverts back to the guy we first met."

"Oh, yeah. She's pretty different now too. She's more sure of herself, less, well, she's still bossy as hell, but like, not in a mean way? More in a 'I know more than you so fucking listen to me' way?"

"Exactly. But together they go fucking ballistic."

"I think it's cuz they still like each other. They wouldn't yell at one another like they do if they didn't care anymore."

"What?!" she exclaims. "No. No way. After all this time? Seriously? There's no way."

"Well, at least on Duncan's side."

Her brows come together in disbelief.

"You can tell!" he asserts. "You always know with guys. There's always that one girl, when they talk about her, they have to react. Something soft shows in their eyes, even if they're mad at her. Duncan always looks that way when he talks about Courtney."

She shakes her head. "That's so weird. I mean during All-stars she seemed completely over him… and he seemed like he had moved on. But maybe,…maybe all the time they spent apart made them realize how much they missed one another."

He shrugs. "I don't think he ever stopped liking her."

"Um, hello?" She raises her hand, waving it back and forth. "He sorta cheated on her? With me? How ya doin?"

He laughs. "Yeah, yeah, I remember." He looks down at the guitar, plucking absentmindedly at a string. "Trust me I remember."

She's struck by the sadness in his tone.

"It's just…see when guys really, really like somebody, when the feelings start getting pretty deep, we get stupid. We don't know what to do, so we distance ourselves, or pull some jackass stunt."

"So you're saying he never really liked me?"

"No, no, of course not!" he hurries to correct himself. "I just, I don't think even he knew that he was doing it, I think he— he probably genuinely liked you, I just don't think he felt about you the way he felt about Courtney."

"Yeah," she pauses, kicking at a single dandelion puff swaying in front of her. "You're right. The older I get, the weirder it seems to have dated him because we're just… we're so similar? He's like my brother now," she makes a face. "It was kinda incestuous. Euch."

"It was weird to me too, even then, but I didn't say anything. Cuz I knew he'd kill me."

She raises her shoulders slightly, quirking her mouth to the side. "Probably."

"But yeah, I think he…" He frowns, and spits out the next words at a rapidity that only a person who has held back something they've needed to say for a long time could produce. "I think he just got emotionally constipated and didn't want to deal with how he felt, and he got really stupid and did some stupid things, and before he knew it he had lost a really great thing. He didn't realize what he had at the time."

She looks at him with raised brows, the corners of her mouth tilted in a slight smile. "Are we still talking about Duncan?"

He shifts uncomfortably. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure, we're talking about Duncan."

"Trent," her voice is soft, inviting.

He meets her open gaze.

BLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Chris' voices cracks into their reverie like a pick into ice. "If everybody could do me the immense favor of getting their happy butts back over here, we have a challenge, ladies and germs. Thank you to me, from me, because I know none of you ingrates will bother to praise my benevolence."

"Oh, Murphy's law," Trent groans. "I'm seriously gonna have to do something about that fucking foghorn."

She laughs, "Count me in."

He smiles that goofy smile again, tinged with a bit of regret. He gestures back to the campground with his guitar. "We should go."

"Yes, we should." She stands, brushing off the seat of her pants, purposely not looking him in the eye. "Can we…can we do this again sometime? Just, y'know, talk?"

"Yeah…yeah! I mean, yeah, no, of course! I mean sure, that would be really awesome."

She raises an eyebrow. "Stay calm there, Trent."

He hangs his head abashedly, smiling and wincing. "I'm so sorry."

They begin to head back towards the campground, walking side by side. He swings his guitar to the outside arm, so their inside arms can brush as they walk.

He clears his throat. "Uh, I meant to tell you, your hair looks really good."

"Oh!" She fingers a strand absentmindedly, and smiles. "Thanks. I grew it out a little and I had to cut down on the color, cuz of job interviews and such. They wanna hire a certain "type"," she makes quotations with her fingers sarcastically, "of worker, so I have to be able to hide the color underneath the upper layer of hair when I put it up. It's ridiculous how prejudiced people are."

"Oh, yeah, I completely agree. That's always been really incomprehensible to me, that self-expression is considered unprofessional. Like what's up with that?"

"I have no idea. The worst part is my tattoos. God forbid I ever wear anything short sleeved ever again while I'm working."

His entire face drops with surprise. "You have tattoos?!"

"Yeah!" she laughs. "Yeah, I have several tattoos. They're not like badass or anything, they're just some artsy watercolor ones my friend did for me. She actually used me as practice, which was kind of scary, but they turned out really well."

"Wow. That's incredibly brave of you. I don't think I could do that." He hesitates, "Um, could I see them sometime?"

She gives him a sly grin. "You can see some of them."

"Oh. Oh." A pink flush creeps up his neck. "Okay. Some of them."

"Oh my God, Trent. Are you blushing?"

"You have to be careful with me, I am, I am a delicate flower here."

She wheezes with laughter. "What? Trent."

"I'm- I'm gonna, I'm just gonna shut up and go," he points to the other side of the campground, tilting his head for a better view of her laughing face, "I'm gonna go while I'm still kind of ahead. Okay? I'm gonna go."

"That might be a good idea."

He starts walking backwards. "Okay, I'm going."

She grins widely. "You're going. We're going."

"Yeah, we're going." He backs into a bench. "Fuck. Uh, bye!"

She waves, amusement clear. "Bye!"

INT. CONFESSIONAL - GWEN

"He seems a lot more self assured now, and a little less needy, which is good. I mean he's still obviously a giant dork, and I think he still probably has a crush on me, but he's like the Trent I first knew. Maybe even better. And I didn't really give him a chance, with the whole nine thing, it just, looking back at it, it seemed like it was OCD. So, I'm glad we resolved that. And I, uh, I feel good." She smiles dreamily. "I feel really good about it."

(static)

INT. CONFESSIONAL - TRENT

(One straight minute of unabashed fist pumping)

(static)

"Alright, here's the deal. In true summer camp form, we're going to play a little capture the flag."

"Yes!" cries Duncan, punching the air. "I kill at this game. Prepare to get rekted people!"

"Haha, yeah man!" Geoff holds his hand up for a high five. "You're all totally screwed!"

Courtney groans. "Ugh, what are you, ten? You're not even on the same team!"

BLLLLARRRRRRRREEEEE! The foghorn honks shortly.

"Can I talk, please?" bellows Chris. "Shut the hell up!" He clears his throat loudly, daring anyone to open their mouths. "And now for the team breakdown, Team one, from this point you will be known as the PUMMELING PUMAS, and will face off against Team three, who henceforth will be called the AVENGING ARMADILLOS!"

"Oh yeah! We get to be named after a kitty!" Sierra bounces excitedly. "I love kitties!"

Sam raises his hand. "Okay, cool, but what's so vengeful about armadillos?"

"SHUSH! Don't question the host!" Chris shakes his head. "You think you all would have learned some respect by now! Team two, henceforth know as the BRAWLING BADGERS, will be the challengers of Team four, the OUTRAGED OSPREYS!"

"A grumpy, oversized weasel. Thrilling," Courtney mutters.

"Aww, I think badgers are sweet," Zoey coos.

Scott scoffs. "You've obviously never had to beat one out from under yer front porch. They're vicious little bastards."

"What the bloody hell is an osprey?" Jasmine asks.

"I think it's a cat?" offers Mike.

"No, you're thinking of an Ocelot," corrects Cameron. "A small wild cat located primarily in South America. An Osprey is a bird of prey, found across the majority of the world."

Chris thunks his head against the megaphone. "Can we please stop with the Biology lesson and focus here, people?"

He motions Chef forward. "Each team will get three flags emblazoned with their team's mascot," Chef hands out three rolled pieces of cloth to each team, "and must strategically place the flags across their territory, which will be mapped out by markers. As I'm sure you all know, the flag must be visible from at least one angle and cannot be tied down or stuck somewhere unreachable. That doesn't mean you can't make it difficult," he grins, waggling his eyebrows, "it just means you can't make it impossible. Which means no hiding your flag on the mountain, team one. You can hide it in the crevices and caves below, as long as you can see it, just not on the mountain itself."

"In this game, tackling, instead of two handed tagging, from the opposite team lands you in jail." He laughs wickedly. "Just to add a little pain and make it more interesting. Jails will be in-between each team's territory. You must stay in that jail, until one of your own teammates releases you."

"Sweet! Jail break, man!" Duncan calls, high-fiving Geoff again. They both begin chanting. "Jail break, jail break, jail break, jail bre-"

"Only one person can be released at a time!" Chris interrupts.

The boys slump in disappointment. "Aw, damn."

"For strategic playing, you will need to divide your teams into guards, who protect the flag and the territory, and attackers, who forage into enemy lines and attempt to find the flags. The first two teams to get all the flags from the opposing team will be given immunity. While the two loser teams will be forced to battle it out in a special challenge! Any questions?"

"Yes," says Heather. "How the hell are supposed to get across the rapids to get to the Avenging Armadillos flag without ending up like Alejandro?"

"Easy. The river will be temporarily bridged for this challenge."

Heather's eye twitches. "Are you telling me, that it was entirely possible, to get across the fucking river, WITHOUT DROWNING MY FUCKING EX!?"

Chris squeaks. "The game will begin when the siren goes off, make your way to your designated locations and hide your flags youhavethirtyminutes," he reels off, already heading towards his cabin as Heather advances on him. "CHEF YOU HAVE THE CON!" he yells back. [1]

Chef puts out a massive forearm to halt Heather. "Alright, you heard him maggots! Get your rears in gear and hide those flags. And remember to keep your eyes peeled for the other missing contestants. Move, move, MOVE!"

EXT. THE RIVER'S RAVINE - AFTERNOON

"You okay there, short stack?" Eva asks with concern, noting Shawn's pallid complexion and heaving breaths.

He wheezes. "Not really. I'm pretty sure my heart and stomach jumped out of my body and drowned back there." He waves a shaking hand in the general direction of the giant waterfall they had tumbled over the night previous. "Can we please stop and rest for awhile? I'm pretty sure we've been over every inch of this ravine. I'm starting to think there isn't a way out."

"Never say die, that's my motto," Eva says, her eyes narrowing in determination. Glaring all around them as if daring the ravine to be unforgeable.

"Well, I'm not going to be saying it, I'm going to be doing it." Shawn gasps, flopping down on a rock shaded by the towering walls. "This must be how the living dead feel all the time."

Eva looks over his prostrate form, noting the genuine exhaustion in his features. She sighs, and grumblingly sits next to him. "Fine. Five minutes. Then we're back on track."

He sighs in relief and smiles at her tiredly. "Thanks, Eva. I'm really sorry, by the way, for, uh, pushing you into a potential watery grave? I just, I didn't know what else to do."

"No problem, string bean," She replies gruffly. "It was a ballsy move. I admire that."

He laughs. "You're a strange one, aren't you? Just like me and Jasmine. I think you two would get along great."

She kicks at the rocky ground in front of her. "Uh, thanks. Normally people don't see my "strangeness" as a good quality."

"That's because people have been conditioned into believing that "normal", or at least appearing "normal", is the best way to live." He sits up, cracking his neck and stretching. "The truth is, there in no such thing. The pre-conceived notion of normal only exists to force us as a society into trying to fit a certain mold." He gives her a pointed look. "To even to pretend to be someone we're not, in order to avoid making "normal" people dislike us."

Eva blinks at him slowly. "You're one of those conspiracy theorist nutjobs, aren't you?

He shakes his head. "It's not a theory, Eva. The truth is that people fear what they don't understand, and therefore shun it, because that's what we've been conditioned to do. Which can lead to all kinds of unhealthy attitudes; racism, xenophobia, sexism, etcetera." He smiles again. "You're just right the way you are. Well," he pauses, and frowns, "except for the rage bits, but you seem to be doing fairly well with that."

She shifts uncomfortably. "How do you know about that?"

"Oh, Jasmine and I watched all the old seasons. It was too bad Heather got you kicked off, you're a really fierce competitor."

"Uh, thank you, again." She's not sure what else to say, she's not used to this kind of praise.

"You know," he muses, brow furrowing, "if you think about it economically, insecurity has almost been commercializ—"

Eva puts a blunt finger to his lips. "Shhhh!" she hisses. "Did you hear that?"

He shakes his head, and her finger drops. "What did you hear?" he whispers.

"Sounded like a groan." She stands slowly, hunching her back into a stealthy crouch as she pads forward. "It came from over here."

They approach a circular outcropping of rocks, with each step closer, a continuous rasping wheeze vibrating off the stones becomes more audible.

Eva wedges herself in-between two great stones, halting instantly at the sight before her. "Well fuck," she curses.

Shawn stands on his tiptoes, trying to peer over her shoulder. "What is it?"

"Not an it, a who," she replies, stepping aside to unblock his view. "Alejandro."

The injured Spaniard lies on his back, arms crossed over his eyes to block the sun. Deep cuts crisscross over his forearms, blood matted with dirt and tiny flecks of gravel. One of his knees is twisted almost backwards, his entire leg nearly turned towards the ground. His tattered shirt stretches across his heaving chest, wracked coughs jerking his frame, struggling to get air in past bruised ribs.

"Oh, this is definitely not good," Shawn says, turning to Eva. "How in God's name are we going to get him out of here?"

(25 minutes till the challenge)

INT. AVENGING ARMADILLOS (TEAM 3) - RAINFOREST BUNKER - AFTERNOON

"Since Shawn and Eva are missing, I'm clearly the obvious choice for team leader!" cries (unsurprisingly) Jo.

"Izzy must be leader. For Izzy is great chieftain!" Izzy jumps to the top of one of the bunks and begins chanting.

"We're down five players. We need someone who isn't completely off her bird to lead this team! You couldn't strategize to save your life!"

"Alright, we get it, Beatrix Kiddo, [2] you're the most badass of us all," Noah quips. "I don't care who leads, just so long as I get to be a guard and don't have to do any running."

Izzy jumps down from the bunk and onto his back, pretending to nom on his brains. "Traitor Noah. Izzy eat traitors."

Noah sighs. "Izzy can stay with me, I'll sic her on anyone who comes near our border. Won't that be fun, Izzy? You get to eat the bad invaders instead of me, one of your only friends."

Izzy props her elbows on top of his head. "Izzy agrees. Your life will be spared."

"Gee, thanks."

"Just great," Jo huffs. "That leaves me, fatso, and couch potato to retrieve the flags. Technically it would be better strategy to send crazy girl after the flags, but I'm afraid she'd get sidetracked. You can keep her in line, right?"

"Jesus Christ, woman, she's not a dog," Noah snaps.

INT. CONFESSIONAL - NOAH (AVENGING ARMIDILLOS)

"Okay so, yes, Izzy and I are fairly close. I can't tell you how many times across the years she's climbed up my apartment complex and into my window, battered, bruised, or with broken bones, running from the cops, or the Navy, or the Feds, for stealing weapons, or impersonating someone at the embassy, or hacking into a space satellite, or whatever. And every time I help her. I get her out of the jam or hide her, and I patch her up. Which is why sometimes, and only sometimes, she listens to me. Because she trusts me. Yes, Izzy is insane. There's no doubt about that. But she's an adult, and she can take care of herself. I'm not her fucking handler. Where does Jo get off calling her a nut case anyway? She doesn't even know Izzy. Izzy is a little nuts, sure, but she's not stupid, nor is she a threat."

(Outside the confessional: Sam: "PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF THE NINE DIVINES PUT THE FIRE DOWN!" [3]
Owen: "Hahha! Where did you even get that, Izzy? Do you have matches? AHH! AHHH! MY HEAD, MY HEAD'S ON FIRE! AHHHH! PUT IT OUT! PUT IT OUT! PUTITOUTTTTT!")

Noah's lips press into a thin line. "Or not."

(static)

(20 minutes till the challenge)

INT. PUMMELING PUMAS (TEAM 1) - MOUNTAIN BUNKER - AFTERNOON

Heather slams her hands down on the foldout table in the middle of their bunker. "I'm not going to fucking argue with you about this!" she growls at Duncan. "I don't care if you don't want me to be team leader, I am, and that's final."

"Girl, this is not a dictatorship," Leshawna says. "I want my man Lightning to have a go at being team leader. What does your preppy ass know about sports anyway?"

"Capture the flag is not a sport!" Heather hisses in frustration. "Lightning is a moron, Duncan is reckless, and I'm the best chance we've got. So shut your ghetto trap, and listen."

Leshawna shakes her head. "Biotch, you have not changed a single bit since I last saw you. Normally I'd be reachin' about now, but I just feel sorry for you. You must have a sad, bitter life."

"Thank you, Leshawna, for that wonderful insight. Tune in next time on the ghetto show to learn how to best roll your blunts."

"Why you racist fucking—" Leshawna starts for the table, already taking out her hoops.

Duncan puts out a restraining arm. "Yo, it's not worth it, sister. Just let it go." He winks at her. "We've got plenty of time to get her back. So, Heather, what's the plan?"

Heather smirks at Leshawna's red and fuming face before turning to Duncan and shoving the flags into his arms. "You're fairly diabolical, hide these where anyone will have a hell of a time getting to them. Then join the rest of the attackers, who will be comprised of myself, Lightning, Sierra, Tyler and you. The rest of you, Cody, Leshawna, Trent and Tyler, shall guard the flags. Also, keep your eye out for Alejandro at all times. I saved us from being part of the elimination ceremony last night, so you all owe me." She glares, meeting each person's gaze one by one. "Everybody clear?"

She doesn't wait for the answer, supremely flipping her hair and descending into one of the bunker's tunnels.

INT. CONFESSIONAL - LESHAWNA (PUMMELING PUMAS)

"One of these days I'm gonna rip that hoe's head clean off!" (Leshawna makes clawed hands, grasping at an unseen neck.) "Just you wait queenie, you're gonna get what's coming to you! Your type always does!"

(static)

(15 minutes till the challenge)

EXT. OUTRAGED OSPREYS (TEAM 4) - RAINFOREST - AFTERNOON

"We cannot put a flag in the middle of a bog!" Cameron cries. "It's completely immoral! Someone could die!"

"Relax, mate," Jasmine replies. "It'll only be for a bit. We can pull 'em out when it's over and they'll be Apples."

Geoff comes running up, panting and wincing. "Okay, that's the last of the flags. There's one in the rotten tree, one in the middle of the bog, and I threw one into that tangle of thorny vines."

"You all right there, surfie?" Jasmine questions concernedly.

He bends over, chest heaving with exertion, and puts his hands on his knees. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just give me a second."

She raises her brow in doubt, but shrugs. "Alright. Are the other drongos in place?"

"Yeah. Anna Maria, Cameron, Dawn and DJ are all hidden near the flags. Dakota, Harold, Mike, and I are ready to move." He straightens up, his face twinging in pain again.

Jasmine places a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Maybe you should stay here, cobber. We've got enough people squizzing for the flags."

He smiles at her gratefully. "Thanks, brah. I guess I'm just outta shape."

"I still say this is immoral," Cameron mutters.

"Oh, pull ya head in, little man. Let's win this!" She punches her fist in determination. "And let's bloody well find my husband."

(10 minutes till the challenge)

EXT. BRAWLING BADGERS (TEAM 2) - FIERY DESERT - AFTERNOON

"Uh, Courtney?" Bridgette asks, eyeing the flag thrown into the middle of a leaping ring of fire. "That doesn't look very safe."

Courtney rolls her eyes. "This is war, Bridgette. It's not supposed to be safe."

Someone chuckles darkly behind them. "She's right, blondie. This is war. And I think I just found us a weapon."

Courtney whirls, already glaring— and stops. "How? Where? What— what happened?" she stutters, incomprehensibly gaping at the now feral Ezekiel held by the scruff of the neck in Scott's hand.

"Found 'em wandering around while I was placing my flag." Scott smirks. "He can scurry up even the biggest sand dunes without slipping, y'know. I told him he could have some food if he got a flag up on the highest one I could find and planted it there."

Bridgette raises an accusatory brow, glaring and crossing her arms. "Do you actually have food?"

Scott laughs. "Of course not. But I know where the mess hall is and he doesn't, so I don't think he'll be turnin' on me."

Courtney's eyes are narrowed and calculating. "You're right, Scott. He could be an excellent advantage."

Bridgette mouth widens in disbelief. "You're not seriously considering using him while he's like this?"

Courtney shrugs. Scott's grin sharpens.

"That is so messed up!" Bridgette throws her arms in the air. "I want no part of this." She waves a finger at Ezekiel. "And if you know better, which I'm not sure you do, you'll stay out of it too."

She stomps off, fuming and muttering under her breath.

Courtney and Scott eye each other for a moment, and a softer version of his grin replaces the previous.

"Ya know I missed this. I missed you," he says earnestly.

"Well, you should have thought of that, before you fucking accused me OF LYING!" She kicks sand in his direction and stalks away, sending Ezekiel into a screeching fit, and leaving Scott choking.

INT. CONFESSIONAL - COURTNEY (BRAWLING BADGERS)

"Okay, look. I know what you're thinking. "Courtney, why are you being such a bitch to Scott?" Here's the thing. I liked Scott, I genuinely did. I liked how he complimented me, I liked how he treated me like I was special. But then the little fucking weasel did a complete about-face and accused me of lying and cheating! If there is one thing in all this world I hate, it's being unjustly accused of something. And God knows I can hold a grudge. On the list of my numerous talents, that is in the top five."

"It's just so frustrating because we could have been great allies, friends even! We think alike, we have the same ruthlessness. But no, God forbid hetero male/female friendships exist. The writers just had to give us a shitty three episode romance! So yeah, I like Scott alright, I see some of myself in him. And yeah, I'm probably being a little too harsh, considering this happened years ago, but I'm still fucking pissed about it and I don't see that changing anytime soon."

(static)

EXT. LOCATION UNDETERMINED - TIME UNDETERMINED

A peaceful breeze ruffles the calm waters of a cove, the sun glinting off the water in shards of light.

All is calm, the chirp of the birds cheery and soft in the background. The animals hidden among the foliage sunbathe under the warm brush, contentedly tucked into the sand.

The calm is shattered all at once, as a green, two headed monster rises from the waters!

It groans with two voices, arms flailing about, and cursing.

Wait…cursing?

"Oh my God, help me get this stuff off!" cries a female voice, the shorter head on the right.

"I would, but I can't see through it!" replies a male voice, the taller head on the left.

"Hang on," says the shorter head. The head disappears as she ducks under the water, emerging forth as a very disgruntled Beth. "God, that is so icky."

The tall head copies her, bursting forth from the water in a shower of brilliant, glittering beads.

"Much better," Justin says, stretching forth his arms and smiling relaxedly.

Beth gapes. "How are you so beautiful all the time? I look like garbage!"

Justing tilts up her chin, and she can see drips of water framing the contours of his face. "Impossible, dear Beth. Impossible."

She blushes bright pink, swinging her arms by her sides abashedly. Recollecting herself, she clears her throat. "Ahem, we should probably figure out where we are. We were in the ocean for a long time."

"Yes," Justin shudders. "Blasted mosquitoes." He takes a preliminary look around. "It doesn't look to be a very dangerous island."

"No," muses Beth. "It's much smaller than the other one. It's almost like Boney Island without the scary, you know?"

Justin nods. "Yes, I see what you mean. Perhaps the island hasn't been set up yet?"

"You mean Chris hasn't prepared it for a challenge?"

"Yes, exactly. Which means we can safely wander without fear of harm."

"Look!" she points, spotting a structure in the distance. "What do you think that is?"

"Let's find out, shall we?" He smiles, offering his arm to her as before.

"Last time you did that we almost got blood sucked by mosquitoes when they circled back around." She points out.

"Yes, I know," he grimaces. "Not my plan, I assure you."

She eyes him excitedly. "You have a plan?"

"Why yes, my dear," he smiles down at her as she takes his arm. "Would you like to be a part of it?"

"Would I ever!" she exclaims, then coughs. "I mean, yes. An alliance would be advantageous for the both of us."

Moments later they arrive at the foreign structure, a poorly made sign reading 'Skull Island'.

"Really, Chris?" Beth questions. "You couldn't do better than that?"

She gasps suddenly. "Justin, look!" Falling to her knees next to a large crate sitting beneath the sign, she pries off one of the boards on the side, and slips out a small object.

Justin's eyes widen in astonishment as he realizes what it is. "An immunity statue! They must not have gotten around to hiding them yet!"

"We should each take two, so as not to arouse suspicion. If we take too many Chris is sure to notice."

"I agree," Justin says. He smiles gleefully and rubs his hands together. "We're going to win this for sure."

(5 minutes into the challenge)

EXT. PUMMELING PUMA TERRITORY - FOOT OF THE MOUNTAIN - AFTERNOON

"Dude, hurry up and chuck it!" Duncan urges Lightning. "The challenge's already started!"

"I'm sha-tryin'!" Lightning counters, winding back his arm and throwing one of their green flags, which they had attached to rock, towards an overhanging shelf. "It won't sha-stay!"

The rock hurtles through the air, missing the ledge by a fraction, and bounces clatteringly back down.

Lightning grumbles, bending to pick it up. "Didn't Chris sha-say we sha-shouldn't put our flags on the mountain, anyway?"

"Nah." Duncan grins widely. "He just meant the top, man. Don't worry about it."

"You won't have to worry about it either way, because I'll be taking that now," comes a voice from behind them.

Face tensing in apprehension, Duncan whirls in surprise at the unexpected voice, then smiles. "Captain Butch. Fancy meeting you here."

"Shove it, Dudcan," she growls. "Make this easy on both of us and just hand over the flag."

"You mean sha-this flag?" asks Lightning, throwing it up and down teasingly. "Well, you're outta luck cuz this sha-flag just got sha-chucked!" He twists his mouth in determination, leaning back at an impossible angle and sending the rock hurtling upwards.

The rock shoots towards the ledge and surpasses it, heading up, up, up, until— it loses momentum and plummets straight back down from where it came.

It THUNKS Lightning on the head, sending him careening to the ground.

"Shit," Duncan swears, catching Jo's eye.

She's grinning maniacally, laughing gleefully at Lightning's idiocy. She starts forward, and Duncan assumes she's going for the flag. He dives towards it— but Jo dives towards him.

With a tackle that makes his ribs feel like powder, she pins him to the ground, and reaches past him to grab the rock out of his hand.

She leans down right next to his ear, mockingly mussing his mohawk. "Nice try, cockatoo. How's it feel to be going back to jail?"

"Fuck you," he grits out, the pain in his back nearly unbearable.

She laughs, standing up and juggling the rock between her hands. "Who needs a team?" she says to herself. "This time I'm winning for sure."

INT. CONFESSIONAL - JO (AVENGING ARMIDILLOS)

"I mean that, you know. I'm back to win this time. I don't need teammates, or friends, or alliances. I'm going to crush this." She crumbles the rock in her hand. "It's not so much for the money as it is for the winning. I'm pretty well off, won plenty of matches. But I've got scores to settle. Watch out, Total Drama, cuz Jo's comin' atcha!"

(static)

EXT. OUTRAGED OSPREY TERRITORY - BOGGY SWAMP - AFTERNOON

Scott sneaks through the mucky, suctioning dirt of the swamp, skillfully avoiding bogs and stepping only on safe spots.

INT. CONFESSIONAL - SCOTT (BRAWLING BADGERS)

"I grew up on a dirt farm, people. Of course I know how to maneuver peat bogs!" He rubs his hands together in anticipation. "This is gonna be a piece of granny's spicy cornbread."

(static)

He steps over a particularly large, mushy patch, wobbling precariously backwards.

"Wah-wah!" He pinwheels his arms frantically, and manages to steady himself.

"Whew." He wipes his brow in relief, then slowly pulls his hand from his forehead as he sights a bright white flag ahead.

The side of his mouth comes up in a sly grin. "Gotcha," he whispers, starting towards the tangle of vines that it's resting in.

"Ohhh, Scott," calls a sweet voice off to his right. He spins, walking backwards instinctively—right into a trap.

A vine noose catches round his leg, and pulls him straight up, slacking as soon as he's at a certain height and dropping him straight into the tangle of brambles.

"GAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" he screams. "SO. PINCHY!

The voice giggles, and Dawn steps out from behind a tree with Cameron in tow. "Is it wrong that I found some small satisfaction in that?" she asks her friend.

"Nah," Cameron replies, smiling at the glaring Scott, "I think you're justified."

Scott struggles forward, immediately rescinding as the pain rockets a tenfold. "Owwwieee. Let me out of here you freaks!"

Dawn shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Scott, but I can't do that. This is your punishment for accusing me of stealing. While you're in there, I suggest you think about what you did and how you hurt people with your words."

She turns to go, Cameron waving playfully at him from behind her. "Bye Scott!"

"Just you wait till I get out of here you little weirdos! I'll—" He tries to shake his fist threateningly, but just manages to stab himself in the palm. "Yeowww! Goddamit!"

INT. CONFESSIONAL - JASMINE (OUTRAGED OSPREYS)

"Yeah, the booby traps were my idea. Didn't actually think anyone would fall for it though. That Scott guy isn't the full quid, is he?"

(static)

EXT. AVENGING ARMADILLOS TERRITORY - RAINFOREST - AFTERNOON

"Izzy, would you please get off my shoulders?" Noah pleads. "You've been up there for a half an hour. I'm starting to cramp."

"No. Izzy lookout," she replies, shading her eyes and peering into the distance. "Izzy must watch. For watching, must have high vantage point."

Noah blinks, shrugging in concession. "Well, you're not wrong. I just wish you could find a vantage point that wasn't me. Like a tree or something, y'know, higher?"

"Izzy stay with Noah. Protect him. For Noah is small and weak."

The corners of his mouth turn down. "Okay, that's it, off, off, off!" He bends over, trying to shake her from his back, but falls forward with the weight and slams headfirst into the ground.

"Jesus fucking christ," he spits, dirt clinging to his tongue.

"Weeeee!" Izzy cries, clapping excitedly. "Do it again, do it again!"

Unexpectedly, a weight slams into them, sending Noah further into the dirt.

"Haha!" cackles an all too familiar voice. "A twofer! Maybe if you two spent less time dry humping and more time focused on the challenge you wouldn't be in this predicament!"

"Heather," Noah groans, prying himself out of the ground, sending Izzy rolling off his back. "Vulgar and bitchy as always. How I've missed your melodious voice."

"Shut it, Sarcrates." She kicks him in the side. "Where's your stupid flag?"

"I'm amazed, Heather. You do read. Tell me, where did you read about Socrates? Cosmo, perhaps? How-To-Be-a-Bitch Digest?"

She kicks him again, repeating with each word. "Where. Is. Your. Fucking. Flag?"

Noah cries out in pain. "Ow! Okay, okay. They're over there, in those vines."

"Seriously?" she scoffs. "You put them all in the same place? I thought at least you would be smarter, Noah."

"I'm flattered," he replies, quietly rising to his feet. He keeps talking as he steps towards her, intent on keeping her distracted. "It's nice to have someone recognize my genius from time to time."

She's carefully reaching a hand into the thorny vines to grab their red flags when he places his hands squarely on her shoulders and shoves her into the thicket.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" she screeches, tumbling forward into the vines pointy embrace. "OW! FUCKING HELL! WHAT ARE THESE?"

Noah grins. "Lawyer vines. Also known as 'wait-a-while,' a prickly climbing plant with hook-like spines that attach themselves to anything… or anyone." [4]

"Let me out of here you little weasel!" she growls. "These hurt! If this ruins my skin, I swear to God—"

"You'll what?" he mocks. "Vote me off? Sorry to burst your bubble, but I'm not too concerned about that. Your little high-school shenanigans and power plays are outdated. You're not the queen bee anymore, Heather. As the saying goes, you're old and washed up."

She screams with fury, daring the pain in order to kick out at him.

He easily moves out of the way, that shit-eating grin still implacably placed on his face.

He waves a finger at her. "Now you be a good girl. Sit there and think about all you've done."

"You'll pay for this, little man. I don't know how or when, but I am going to fuck your shit up. Then we'll see just how "old and washed up" I am."

"I guess we will." He turns from Heather's seething glare, putting his hands on his hips as he stares testily at the still unmoving Izzy. She's lying on the ground, in the same position she had landed in. "What happened to protecting me, huh?"

"Izzy dead," she whispers. "She was tackled. Can't move."

Noah sends his eyes heavenward. "You're not dead, we just have to go to jail, you dummy."

She bounds up immediately. "Oh, well, that's good. I was getting really tired being down there, my muscles were all cramping and stuff, did I ever tell you about that time I got a charlie horse while I was swimming the English Channel? It was so terrible I got disoriented and drowned of exhaustion, because the stupid boat guys couldn't decide who was in charge for ending the swim, and my trainer was a total dickhole who ignored my signs of distress, so I was like the reason they created the rule that the pilot was the one who makes the final decision about whether a swimmer should remain in the water, and it was really sad because I was only twenty-five years old."

Noah sighs. "Izzy, you're twenty-five now."

A blank look crosses her face for a moment, her brows creasing in confusion.

Noah is inexplicably frightened by her expression, the panic in her eyes making him uncomfortable. He puts out a hand, resting it on her forearm, which are crossed protectively over her chest. "Izzy? What's wrong?"

She meets his eyes and he nearly startles back. Her eyes—her eyes are brown. He shakes his head, and when he looks back, her expression has reset to her usual cheery self, and her eyes—her eyes are once again green.

"Whatsa matter, Noah?" she asks, leaning in to peer into his own eyes. "You see a ghost or something? Ooh, I hope you did! Did I tell you about that time when I went hunting for ghosts and I found this poltergeist and it tried paralyze my lungs, and then I fell over the balcony—"

"Izzy!" Noah interrupts, still shaken by what he's seen. "Please, no more stories. Just, not for right now."

The look she gives him is surprisingly understanding, a heavy sadness weighing on her face. "Okay." She rests her head on his shoulder, entwining her fingers with his. "Okay."

EXT. BRAWLING BADGERS TERRITORY - FIERY DESERT - AFTERNOON

He had told them, but they didn't believe him. He had told them he would become the greatest ninja this world has ever seen, a master of the martial arts, stealthy as a night shadow, silent as a room after he'd rambled on too long about D&D. And he had.

Creeping through the sand dunes, he has, so far, remained unseen. He pops his head over one low rise hill, peering with narrowed eyes over the perilous landscape. There! A few dunes ahead, shining bright like a sapphire gem among the sands, the flag!

He crawls forward, chin nearly scraping on the gritty dirt beneath him, heat burning through the thin material of his pants.

He stands, gaze traveling the massive seventy-five degree dune, the flag waving mockingly above.

With each flap it seems to taunt him. "You can't reach me, you can't reach me!"

"We'll just see about that," Harold mutters to himself.

He jumps forward onto the shifting sands, as high as he can— and slides back down at an alarming speed. He thumps onto his back, groaning from the pain.

He tries again. And again. And again. But to no avail. Each and every time he gets half way up, then slides down, screeching and flailing, and thuds to the ground.

An idea dawns on him. He takes out his nunchucks from his back, and stabs each end into the sand, using them like picks.

He still slips and slides a bit, but he's moving! He's actually making progress!

He resists the urge to fist pump.

A tingle down his spine, previously unnoticeable, shivers through him, this time severe enough for him to pay attention. He knows that tingle. His ninja senses are telling him somebody has been watching.

He turns his head slowly, careful not to jar any of his precariously balanced body, and screeches like a four year old at the sight of Ezekiel/Gollum's gruesome face a few inches from his own.

"H-hi, Zeke, man," he stutters. "How's it goin'?"

Ezekiel/Gollum growls, showing his sharpened yellow teeth.

"You need some toothpaste? I can g-get you some toothpaste!"

Ezekiel/Gollum glares, then flings himself at Harold.

"NOOOOOOOO!" he screams, as they tumble to the ground.

They hits the dirt with maximum impact, but Ezekiel/Gollum doesn't even seem to notice. He tears at Harold's clothes, growling ferociously, trying to come in for a bite.

"No! Dude!" Harold protests, batting him away. "Not my Dojo outfit!"

Harold springs to his feet, his pants falling halfway off his ass. He scurry/runs away, holding them up in one hand and clutching the nunchucks in the other.

Satisfied that he has driven off the intruder, Ezekiel/Gollum climbs back up to his perch on the dune, ready and waiting for the next victim.

Settling on the top, he curls up into a ball and growls contentedly to himself— chewing on a pair of Harold's bright pink underwear.

EXT. OUTRAGED OSPREY TERRITORY - BOGGY SWAMP - AFTERNOON

All is still in the middle of the swamp, the occasional ribbet of frogs the only interjection into the silence.

A figure suddenly stumbles into frame, covered all over in little prickers sticking out of their skin.

"Ooo! Ouch!" cries Mike, fumbling backwards, pulling out cactus needles one by one. "Urgh! Owie! OWwwWww. Aww, this sucks. This is the last time I ever try to steal a flag from a cactus."

"Have a hard time in the desert?" says a voice behind him, He lets out a startled squeak and jumps in the air. "Oh," he laughs nervously, turning to see Anna Maria leaning enticingly against one of the trees, "Anna Maria, it's just you."

"How you doin', Vito baby?" she looks at him seductively. "Long time no see."

"It's just, um, it's just Mike, Anna Maria. I try not to encourage the personalities at all. It's not healthy."

She walks forward, a sway in her hips, obviously not heeding his words. "I thoughtchu was all better."

He gulps, backing away from her slowly, looking back behind him to keep his footing. "Um, no. I though I was, but uh, mental illnesses just don't disappear like that. I was fooling myself."

She raises an eyebrow, giving a sideways smirk. "So, Vito can come out ta play is whatchu sayin'?"

"No, no." He waves his hands frantically in front of him. "I've been going to therapy, I have most of it under control. They have me on medication and everything."

Anna Maria's face falls, anger lighting her eyes. "Well, I wouldn't be too sure about it working."

Mike gulps. "Wh-what do you mean by that?"

"What I want to know, is why did you give the flag away?" she asks, looking at her fingers innocently. "You don't have no reason to," she looks up, eyes sharp, "unless Mal is back."

Mike's eyes go wide. "What? No! I-I put the flag where Jasmine told me!"

"Right in the middle of the clearing? Yeah, that's not where she said to put it. It was supposed ta be by one of her traps, but it wasn't. I ended up defending the wrong area. That goth freak came in here and got it away from me, easy as pie."

"I didn't— I don't remember moving it— I was so sure." He steps backwards waveringly, and then sits down heavily. "I was so sure I put it there."

"Yeah, well. Ya didn't. So you better get your shit together and hope we don't lose this challenge, or you'll be going home," she leans in close, malice lacing her words, "without ya little red hoe. Who I suspect is very vital to your stayin' normal."

She turns and walks away, disappearing into the undergrowth, leaving Mike alone in the descending darkness— in the sky, and in his heart.

EXT. PUMMELING PUMA TERRITORY - ROCKY RANGE AROUND MT. - AFTERNOON

Jo is feeling fucking great. Two flags down, one to go, and she had done it all on her own. Nothing can stop her this season, no one can stop her. She is going to dominate and show them, show them all. She's a winner. She'll always be a winner. She's best on her own. By herself…all alone…for who could stand her? She sighs internally, mentally chasing the threatening thoughts away.

Focus. Time to get back on track— huh? What was that?

"Helppp! Is anyone out there? Help!" The voice comes from a short distance away, echoes distorting its exact location.

"Who's there?" She bellows.

"Here! We're down here! Please help!"

She walks forward, listening keenly. "Say something again!"

"Hello! Right over here! Below you!"

Below? What did he mean belo— "FUCK!" she screams, nearly tumbling into a previously unseen chasm.

It rests near the foot of the mountain, its narrow gap widening as it goes down. Down how deep, she doesn't know. She bends over, careful to steady herself, and yells down into the fissure. "Down here?"

"Yes!" comes the instantaneous reply. "Thank God you found us! We can't get out and we've got somebody hurt down here!"

She groans. Just great. If she stops and helps these maroons there's no way she's winning this challenge. Momentarily, she wishes Brick was here. The dude was basically her moral compass when he was around, he'd make her help them. And now, she has to decide all on her own. Winning, or being a decent human being?

"Please hurry! They're hurt real bad!"

Her shoulders slump and she glares accusingly at the crevasse below. "Fine," she grumbles to herself, then, increasing her volume, "Give me a minute! I'll find help!"

Help, yeah right. She scrunches her brow, thinking intensely. Maybe vines to pull them out? There were plenty in the rainforest.

(10 minutes later)

Apparently the forest didn't take kindly to someone taking their vines. Vines were a terrible idea.

Jo gasps, falling to her knees, clutching at her throat. She can't breathe.

She thinks she's dying.

[1] "You have the con." This is a Star Trek reference, it's what Kirk says when he's handing over command to someone else.

[2] Beatrix Kiddo: A fictional assassin in the movie Kill Bill, played by Uma Thurman.

[3] The nine divines are the nine great faiths and gods of Tamriel in the game Skyrim. They are the Aedra: Akatosh, Arkay, Dibella, Julianos, Kynareth, Mara, Stendarr, Zenithar, and the once mortal god Talos… - The unofficial elder scroll pages

[4] Lawyer vine: Calamus muelleri, commonly known as lawyer vine, or wait-a-while, is a vine-like climbing palm with sharp hooks along its leaf sheath, leaf edged, and along flagella that extend from the end of each vine. - Wikipedia