Last time on Total Drama Island…
The campers had their survival skills put to the ultimate test when they were forced to spend an entire night camping out in the deep, creepy woods. Lincoln once again proved his strength and reliability, which—big surprise—earned him more side-eye from Courtney. Meanwhile, Katie and Sadie's legendary friendship hit a snag when Katie's "expert" sense of direction got them hilariously and totally lost.
Duncan's ghost-story telling skills scared the Killer Bass silly, while Izzy pulled a classic prank—dressing up like a bear to terrify her own team. Her antics earned her a flying sneaker to the face. But then… a real bear showed up.
Cody peed his pants. That was embarrassing.
But somehow, the bear was scared off—by Ronnie Anne, of all people, in a jealous rage. That girl? She terrifies me. Like, in a "don't sleep with both eyes closed" kind of way.
Thanks to Ronnie Anne's fury and Lincoln's survival smarts (and tarp), both teams managed to get some shut-eye under makeshift tents despite the sudden downpour. Once again, the Americans saved the day—shocking absolutely no one.
But in the end, it didn't matter. The Killer Bass faced the campfire once again after Katie and Sadie bailed on the challenge, leaving Sadie without a marshmallow.
Yup. The challenge was brutal. And today's challenge? Oh, it's gonna be even worse. Why? Because I say so.
Find out what fearsome test awaits them next, right here on…
Total. Drama. Island!
⸻
The soft lap of water echoed around the dock as Katie sat curled up, her body wracked with sobs. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks, and her wails echoed across the still lake.
"Ahhhh hahhhhh AWWWW!!!!"
Nearby, Lincoln and Bridgette stood awkwardly close, unsure of how to help the distraught girl but trying their best.
"Sadie would want you to keep going," Lincoln said gently.
"Yeah, Katie, if you spend the rest of your time here crying, you'll never win," Bridgette added, trying to be encouraging.
But Katie wasn't listening. She continued bawling, shoulders shaking, eyes squeezed shut as the sorrow overtook her. Lincoln and Bridgette exchanged a glance—this wasn't going to be easy.
"Haaa… Come on. Let's go back and join the others."
Bridgette reached out, patting Katie on the shoulder. Lincoln, kneeling beside her now, tried again, his voice kind but unsure.
"Anything we can do to help you?"
Katie blinked up at him through watery eyes, and then—without warning—lifted her arms in a silent request.
⸻
Lincoln had done a lot of things during this competition, but this hadn't been on his bingo card.
"You're doing a good thing, Linc," Bridgette whispered, offering him a small smile.
Still, Lincoln looked like he wanted to disappear.
Katie had asked—no, insisted—that he carry her bridal style all the way back to the fire pit. And now, she sat on his lap like it was her personal throne, arms looped tightly around his neck, head pressed against his chest.
"Can I put you down now?" Lincoln asked, his voice quiet and desperate.
Katie's only answer was to cling tighter. Defeated, Lincoln slumped back onto the bench, Katie still nestled against him.
The rest of the Killer Bass gave them looks that ranged from puzzled to full-on disturbed. Bridgette plopped down beside Lincoln, pretending not to notice the awkward tension.
"It was a long goodbye."
"A very long goodbye," Lincoln muttered, awkwardly shifting as Katie's weight pressed firmly into his lap.
Across the fire, Duncan sat watching, trying not to laugh—and failing.
"Ronnie Anne is gonna blow a gasket when she sees you with another girl on your lap, grandpa."
Lincoln didn't say a word. He just extended his hand and flipped Duncan off without even turning around.
Almost like a cue, the Screaming Gophers arrived, strolling into the clearing with bags of leftover junk food from their tuck shop haul.
"What do you guys want? Come by to rub it in?" Bridgette asked, a bit defensively.
Ronnie Anne stepped forward. "Chill out, Judge Judy, we came by to—"
Her words cut off like someone hit pause on her vocal cords.
Ronnie Anne's eyes locked on the sight of Katie—still sitting on Lincoln's lap, still clinging to him like a koala bear. Her expression didn't shift, didn't twitch. But her eyes… shrank into pinpricks.
She was frozen, rage boiling just beneath the surface, masked only by her silence. The rest of the Gophers blinked, confused by the sudden halt in her sass, until Trent stepped in.
"We got you some extra dessert after our tuck shop party. Thought you might want some," he said, holding out a bag of chips and a bottle of soda.
Courtney raised an eyebrow.
"So what? You're just being… nice?"
Gwen stood next to Ronnie Anne, glancing between her and Courtney before answering for the group.
"Okay. Owen stank up our cabin, and we need some time to air out."
Almost on cue, Owen let out a loud squeaky fart. The Gophers recoiled.
"Eww. Dude."
"Boy, you are straight nasty."
Even Trent and Leshawna moved away from him, shifting closer to Ronnie Anne—who hadn't moved a muscle.
Leshawna waved a hand in front of her friend's face. Nothing. Ronnie Anne was still staring daggers at Katie.
Cody approached, smiling nervously as he offered a plate of green jelly—complete with a gummy worm inside. Courtney flinched.
"No! I mean, no thanks. I'm good."
Duncan snorted. "What, are you on a diet or something?"
Courtney collected herself with a huff. "No! I just don't like green jelly, okay?"
Cody, still trying to be friendly, offered the jelly to DJ. But as DJ peered inside—
"Snake!"
DJ slapped the jelly from Cody's hand like it was radioactive. The cup splattered across the ground.
"Chill, dude. It's just a gummy worm."
DJ shook his head. "Sorry for trippin'. Snakes just freak me out."
Cody gave him a supportive pat. "It's cool, bro. Don't worry."
But Ronnie Anne? Still hadn't blinked. Still hadn't spoken.
"Girl, what is the deal?" Leshawna whispered.
Then Owen, cheerful and oblivious as ever, sealed everyone's doom.
"Hey Lincoln, why's Katie sitting on your lap?"
Silence.
All the Gophers turned to look. Ronnie Anne's friends followed her gaze—finally realizing what had her frozen. Katie blinked innocently at the eyes on her, while Lincoln groaned inwardly.
"Katie is having trouble dealing with Sadie being voted off, and she will not let go of me."
Leshawna saw the storm gathering in Ronnie Anne's eyes and acted quickly.
She turned to DJ with a smile. "You know, baby, being afraid of snakes ain't bad. I'm terrified of spiders."
—————-
Gwen – CONFESSIONAL
Leshawna's plan actually worked. Suddenly, everyone was sitting around the campfire in an impromptu fear-sharing session. Beth rambled about her absolute terror of being covered in bugs. Harold admitted he was afraid of ninjas—which, honestly, wasn't that surprising. Eva, fierce as ever, confessed her greatest fear was looking stupid in front of others. And even Heather—of all people—let it slip that sumo wrestlers freaked her out. But despite the openness, Ronnie Anne still looked like she was ready to explode. Yeah… she wasn't over it.
⸻
The flickering light of the campfire painted long shadows across the campers' faces as the Gophers and Bass, now momentarily united, continued revealing their deepest fears.
"What's my worst fear? I guess being buried alive." Gwen said, her tone unusually serious as the firelight reflected off her dark eyes.
"Walking through a minefield. In heels," Lindsay added, as if she'd just survived such an ordeal herself.
Next to her, Owen hunched his shoulders, visibly recoiling just at the thought.
"Flying, man. That's some crazy stuff."
"Hah. I would never go up in a plane. Never!" Izzy chimed in with a manic grin, as if she meant it literally and had fought off a pilot once.
Geoff adjusted his cap slightly as he revealed his fear. "I'm scared of hail. It's small but deadly, dude."
Bridgette hugged her knees to her chest, her voice quiet. "Being left alone in the woods."
Lincoln glanced at her, surprised. "So that's why you were so freaked out last challenge."
She gave a small nod. Just the idea of solitude out there clearly unnerved her more than she let on.
Still seated on Lincoln's lap, Katie finally loosened her clingy grip, though she remained on him like he was a security blanket. "Ugly clothes."
Lindsay perked up immediately. "Oh, okay. I change mine! That's so much scarier than a minefield!"
Cody scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Having to diffuse a time bomb under pressure."
All eyes eventually shifted to Courtney. Arms crossed tightly over her chest, she looked more irritated than frightened. "I'm not really afraid of anything."
A deliberate fake cough came from Duncan's direction. "Ha ha. Bologna."
Courtney's eyes narrowed, but she smirked back with practiced poise. "Oh really? Well, what exactly is your phobia, Mr. Know-it-all?"
Now under the full spotlight, Duncan shrank slightly in his seat, but still answered, albeit reluctantly. "Haaaaa… C-Celine Dion music store standees."
There was a beat of stunned silence.
The others blinked.
Even Ronnie Anne, still quietly fuming beside Leshawna, was jolted from her jealousy spiral.
"Haha, ex-squeeze me? I didn't quite get that." Cody cupped a hand to his ear.
"Dude, did you say Celine Dion music store standees?" Trent asked, grinning from ear to ear.
"That is too priceless," Lincoln chuckled.
"Ooh, I love Celine Dion!" Lindsay squealed. "What's a standee?"
"You know… that cardboard cutout thing that stands in the music store," Trent explained casually.
"They put them up when a new album drops, or during autograph signings," Lincoln added helpfully.
"Don't… say it, dude," Duncan muttered, visibly distressed.
"It's pretty much like a life-sized, but flat Celine," Lincoln continued, unfazed.
Courtney smirked devilishly. "So if we had a cardboard standee right now…"
"Shut up!" Duncan snapped. "What about you guys? What's your fear, grandpa?"
Lincoln rubbed the back of his neck.
"Art the Clown."
"Wait—did you say Art the Clown?" Gwen asked, suddenly intrigued.
"Yep," Lincoln confirmed, clearly embarrassed.
Duncan burst out laughing. "Dude… HAHAHA!! Wow, you're scared of a horror movie? HAHAHA!!"
Lincoln rolled his eyes but Gwen immediately defended him. "Dude, have you seen Terrifier? Art was brutal even for a slasher. Remember that one scene where he cut that girl in half—from her groin to her neck?"
Most of the campers recoiled, disturbed. DJ in particular looked like he was about to be sick.
"Oh, I've seen both," Duncan said with glee. "Can't wait for the third. My favorite kill? Gotta be the acid and spiked bedpost combo. Then he ate her heart."
DJ's face turned a shade paler.
"And don't forget the Clown Café!" Gwen jumped in. "Razor wire cereal, cockroach milk, and that girl set on fire while playing the banjo."
Duncan grinned, eyes gleaming. "The scalping torture scene, though? With the mom walking in on it? Man…"
"Mooooommmmm…" Gwen echoed, almost lovingly.
"Oh but the scene that almost made me sick was when Art skinned that homeless woman and wore it like a shirt, that scene almost made lose my lunch." Duncan and Gwen laughed as the girls around the fire looked freaked out.
The group collectively recoiled. Even Izzy looked disturbed. DJ, on the other hand, had fainted, slumping to the side with a soft thud.
"Soooooo. Everyone else see why that clown freaks me out?" Lincoln asked, gesturing toward the unconscious DJ.
Everyone nodded vigorously.
"Okay, well my fear isn't gruesome," Trent
piped up. "But I hate mimes. Like, a lot."
"All right, Courtney, you're afraid of something. Spit it out," Lincoln prompted, side-eyeing her with a smirk.
"Nope. Nothing."
"Bull crap," Lincoln shot back, deadpan.
Duncan snorted. "Yeah, that's not what she said last night."
Courtney rolled her eyes again. "Duncan, did you ever consider that maybe I was just humoring you and your stupid story?"
"Sure, sure, princess. Whatever floats your boat."
"Shut up!" she shouted, cheeks flushed as she folded her arms with a huff.
Then came the question that redirected the group's attention.
"Anything you afraid of, Ronnie Anne?" Lindsay asked innocently.
All heads slowly turned toward the girl, who hadn't taken her eyes off Katie since this began. Her glare hadn't softened, her jaw was still clenched, and her pupils were nothing but sharp little pinpricks of focused fury.
"Soooo… I'm guessing that's a no," Lindsay whispered nervously.
———————
The next morning dawned quietly over Camp Wawanakwa, the early sunlight peeking through the mist and casting long shadows across the clearing. A damp chill lingered in the air from the night before, and a groggy group of campers trudged up the steps of the main lodge, eyes half-lidded and stomachs growling.
The line for breakfast was moving at a sluggish pace. Inside the lodge, the campers slowly shuffled forward to collect their daily serving of suspicious-looking "food," courtesy of Chef Hatchet. Among them, a certain Latina tomboy stood silently, arms crossed and brows low. Her usually sharp glare was focused straight ahead.
"Girl, are you okay? You've been quiet since the bonfire."
The voice came from beside her. Her friend's tone was curious but concerned as she stepped forward in line, casting a sideways glance.
"I'm okay, L," she replied with a weak smile, not making eye contact. "I just had a headache, and that was why I was angry last night."
Leshawna raised an eyebrow at the excuse. Her arms folded under her chest, and her eyes narrowed, clearly not buying it.
"Was the headache caused by seeing Katie's skinny butt on your boo's lap?"
The tomboy flinched. Her head snapped to Leshawna, eyes narrowing into a venomous glare.
"Not. My. Boo."
Before Leshawna could reply, a cheerful voice rang out from further up the line.
"Hey Lincoln!"
Both girls turned. Katie came bounding over, clinging to Lincoln's arm with a bubbly grin that made Leshawna smirk and Ronnie Anne tense on instinct.
"Thanks for everything last night," Katie said sweetly, her smile as warm as the sun.
Lincoln, still somewhat drowsy but always polite, smiled back. "No problem, Katie."
That was all it took.
Ronnie Anne's pupils shrank to pinpricks again. Her jaw clenched. With a twitch in her hand, she reached for the closest object within grabbing distance—which, unfortunately, happened to be a long-handled metal ladle sitting in a tub of questionable oatmeal.
"HEY!!!"
Chef's voice barked out across the lodge. He turned to see Ronnie Anne gripping the metal ladle with both hands.
Before anyone could process what was happening, Ronnie Anne folded the ladle. Not bent. Folded. Like a towel. The metal let out a strained creaaaaak as it contorted unnaturally in her grasp.
Chef's eyes widened. "Ahhh… You know what? You keep it."
The grizzled cook immediately backed away, intimidated by the boiling rage that radiated from the girl. Her eyes still hadn't left the scene in front of her.
Katie was still chatting with Lincoln.
And Ronnie Anne? She was two seconds away from launching the world's deadliest soup spoon.
——————-
All the campers sat at their tables with Ronnie Anne still glaring at Katie—who remained blissfully unaware of the fury building across the mess hall. The tension thickened until Chris finally made his appearance.
"Campers, your next challenge is a little game I like to call… Phobia Factor! Prepare to face… your worst fears!"
Leshawna held up some charred, unidentifiable lump on her tray.
"Worse than this?"
"We're… in trouble," Gwen muttered, dragging her hand down her face.
"Why the (BLEEP) did I sign up for this show again?" she added, clearly over it.
Ronnie Anne rubbed the bridge of her nose, already feeling a headache forming.
"A hundred grand." gwen muttered under her breath.
Chris smirked and turned his attention to the next unfortunate campers.
"Now for our first victims—Heather! Meet us all in the theater! It's… Sumo time!"
Heather spat out her water, accidentally splashing Gwen with it. Beth, Cody, and Lindsay gasped at the outburst.
But Chris kept going.
"Gwen. You, me, the beach. A few tons of sand."
"HAAAA!!!" Gwen gasped, already panicking.
"Wait," Lindsay asked, blinking in confusion, "how did they know those were your worst fears?"
Ronnie Anne groaned and muttered:
"Maldita sea la hoguera."
"What did she say?" Lindsay asked, puzzled.
Gwen wiped her face, exasperated.
"I barely got a C in Spanish, but I think she said we told Chris all our fears."
"At the campfire last night," Trent added, realization dawning on him.
"Wait. They were listening to us?" Lindsay gasped.
Ronnie Anne dragged her palm down her face.
"Remember what Chris said? 24/7—the cameras will be on us."
"It's a reality show, Einstein. They're always listening to us," Gwen added, shaking her head.
Lindsay gasped again like her world had just collapsed.
"That's like… eavesdropping!"
At that moment, Ronnie Anne covered her eyes, Leshawna covered her ears, and Gwen covered her mouth.
The holy trinity of "We cannot with this girl right now."
————-
A giant vat filled with bugs and worms sat ominously beneath a tall diving board, where Beth stood, knees shaking.
"If Beth can jump into this vat of insects, she scores the first point for the Gophers!" Chris announced.
Beth looked down, gulping as she stared at the squirming mass below. With a determined breath, she leapt—
SPLASH!
She landed square in the middle of the writhing bug soup. A collective "EWWW!" rang out from several campers watching from the sidelines.
Cody, Gwen, Ronnie Anne, Heather, Leshawna, Lindsay, and Owen all began cheering from the benches.
"And Beth sets the bar way up there!" Chris grinned.
Score:
Bass – 0
Gophers – 1
Beth resurfaced with worms clinging to her hair and face… and then slurped one into her mouth with a loud squish.
The crowd of campers recoiled.
⸻
Lincoln – Confessional
"Uph!"
Lincoln gagged, trying to compose himself.
"Beth… you freaking sick liar!!"
His cheeks puffed up as if he were about to be sick again, and the screen quickly cut to static.
———-
Back at the cabins, three unlucky girls were preparing for their worst fears: Lindsay, Katie, and Eva.
Inside the cabin, the atmosphere was tense. A pile of garish, mismatched clothing sat in the center like a cursed treasure chest. Feathers, sequins, neon lace, and clashing patterns spilled out in every direction.
"I can't believe this," Katie groaned, holding up a glittery green tube top with faux fur sleeves. It shimmered aggressively in the morning light, like it was trying to blind her.
Katie, already wearing a pair of pink camouflage capri pants and a lime green turtleneck with sequin shoulder pads, adjusted a tangled beaded belt around her waist.
"These are so ugly!" Katie moaned, cringing as Lindsay handed her a skirt made from layered denim, tulle, and what looked like leftover upholstery fabric.
Lindsay beamed, already twirling in her own monstrosity — a neon orange poncho with purple zebra stripes, paired with rhinestone-studded jeans that flared like umbrellas at the bottom.
"I call this one… 'Electric Disco Safari!'" Lindsay posed proudly in front of the cracked mirror.
Katie stared at the horror in her hands: platform sandals covered in googly eyes.
"Why does my fear have to be ugly clothes?" she whimpered.
From across the room, Eva crossed her arms, unimpressed in her assigned outfit — a puffy pink tutu over camouflage cargo shorts and a crop top with a unicorn breathing fire.
"Because," Eva growled, "life is cruel. Now stop whining and dress up, Barbie."
Katie buried her face in a jacket made entirely of fake roses and glitter tinsel, wishing this challenge would just end.
—————
Now it was time for the Gophers' craziest couple: Owen and Izzy. Their shared phobia? Flying.
"Flying, man! That's some crazy stuff!"
"Hah! I would never go up in a plane. Never!"
They'd said it loud and proud by the fire the night before. Big mistake.
Chris smirked devilishly as he led the group to a hidden runway behind the camp.
"Well, time to face that fear head-on! Welcome to your in-flight nightmare!"
The "plane" sitting on the cracked runway was more rust than metal. It looked like a World War II reject, held together with duct tape, zip ties, and pure denial. One of the wings wobbled in the breeze, and a broken propeller spun lazily as if already giving up.
"THIS IS THE PLANE?!"
Owen's voice cracked as he clung to Izzy in terror. Even Izzy, the usual adrenaline junkie, took a nervous step back.
SCREEEEEEEAK!
The rickety door groaned open, nearly falling off its hinges, revealing Chef Hatchet inside… dressed in a faded stewardess outfit. Blonde wig, blue skirt, plastic wings on his chest.
"Buckle up, weirdos."
Chef snapped his gum and yanked them inside with zero remorse.
Seconds later, the pilot revved the engine — the whole plane coughing like a dying lawnmower before lurching down the runway like a zombie with a limp.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Owen and Izzy screamed in perfect harmony as the plane somehow left the ground. Barely. It rattled and shook like a soda can full of marbles, clouds of smoke trailing behind.
Back on the ground, the campers watched in stunned horror. Lindsay clutched Beth. DJ covered his eyes.
Ronnie Anne whispered under her breath:
"That's not a plane. That's a flying coffin."
The whole thing groaned in protest as Chris ordered it to looped in the air like he was trying to write his name in the sky — which he actually was.
Inside, Izzy clutched her seat while Owen screamed into a barf bag… and then barfed into it.
——-
The faint echo of a toilet flushing filled the otherwise quiet bathroom. Harold stepped out of the stall, casually adjusting his hoodie and brushing his bangs back into place. He reached for the sink, but before he could even turn on the faucet, several masked figures dropped silently from the ceiling like shadows made solid.
Ninjas.
Armed with wooden swords, throwing stars, and intense glares, they surrounded Harold with practiced menace.
Harold blinked.
Without flinching, he reached into his hoodie and pulled out a pair of well-worn nunchucks.
The lead ninja flinched. "WHOA, WHOA—DUDE! We're interns! Chris just wanted us to scare you!"
But Harold's face remained stone-cold. He began twirling the nunchucks with silent precision, his expression unreadable.
"I'm not falling for that excuse again," he muttered flatly.
Then—THWACK!
The nunchucks whipped back and smacked him square in the face.
Harold's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed like a sack of bricks, sprawled out cold on the tile floor.
A long pause followed. One of the ninjas cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Well… I guess that counts as a win?"
From somewhere backstage, Chris watched the feed from a hidden camera, shrugging with a satisfied smirk.
"Not exactly graceful," he muttered, "but a win's a win."
⸻
Bass – 1
Gophers – 1
⸻
Back in the bathroom, the "ninjas"—really just underpaid interns in discount ninja costumes—gathered around Harold's unconscious body.
"So…" one of them said, still holding his prop sword loosely, "anyone seen any good movies lately?"
A shorter intern with a high ponytail nodded. "Saw that Madame Web flick last February."
The first ninja winced. "Any good?"
She shook her head solemnly. "The ticket stub would've been more useful as kindling."
The others murmured in agreement, stepping over Harold as they drifted toward the exit.
Harold, still out cold, muttered something incoherent in his sleep.
—————
With the score tied, it was up to Leshawna to push the Gophers ahead.
Chris stood smugly in front of a wide tunnel framed with a crooked wooden arch that read: "HALL OF SPIDERS" in glittery black letters. Inside, the dim hallway was choked with cobwebs—some fake, some very real—and crawling with countless eight-legged horrors.
"Leshawna," Chris announced, grinning with sadistic glee, "your task is the Hall of SPIDERS!"
Leshawna's eyes widened as she took in the fifty-foot gauntlet. The walls were thick with hanging webs. Tiny plastic spiders dangled on fishing lines—but so did real ones, scuttling over dusty corners and into shadows.
Chris continued, voice dripping with faux encouragement, "In this hall, you'll find fake cobwebs… real cobwebs… fake spiders… and real spiders!"
Leshawna took a step back, her confident posture crumbling.
"If you can make it through, you might just help your team win~!" Chris sang, stretching the last word like a taunt.
Ronnie Anne quickly stepped up, putting a steadying hand on Leshawna's shoulder. "L, you don't have to do this."
Gwen joined them, folding her arms and frowning at the sight. "She's right. No shame in backing out."
"Oh yes she does!"
All three girls turned. Heather stomped up, scowling.
"I'm not losing another challenge because Sistah Supersize is afraid of a little spider!"
Ronnie Anne immediately shoved her, her eyes blazing with fury. "¡Perra fea y chinche palo!"
Heather and Ronnie Anne glared at each other, the tension crackling. But Leshawna pushed forward, lifting a shaky hand.
"I'm doing this!"
Without another word, she charged into the tunnel.
"AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
Her screams echoed down the hallway as she sprinted at full tilt, swatting at every web and shape that brushed against her. Her hands covered her mouth in terror as she ran headlong into cobwebs both fake and real.
"GET THEM OFF! GET THEM OFF!!!"
She exploded out the other side like a cannonball and immediately dove onto the grass, rolling and flailing to shake off imaginary spiders.
Ronnie Anne and Gwen rushed to her side, swatting at her arms and legs.
"ARE YOU OK?!" Ronnie Anne shouted, prying plastic bugs from Leshawna's hoodie.
"GET 'EM OFF! GET 'EM OFF!!" Leshawna sobbed, flailing in panic.
"Relax," Gwen said, pulling a fake spider from Leshawna's hair. "I think they're all fake."
Leshawna stared at the plastic insect in Gwen's hand, breathing fast. "Fake… all fake…"
SLAP!
Leshawna flinched and yelped as something struck her backside. She twisted around in panic, only to see Ronnie Anne grinding the heel of her boot into the grass.
With a sickening crunch, a real spider was squashed beneath her sole.
"Looks like they weren't all fake," Ronnie Anne muttered, flicking the remains off her boot.
Leshawna pressed a hand to her chest, heart pounding.
"Ronnie… ha… normally… I pop any girl who touches this bootay… ha… but you the exception…"
Ronnie Anne smirked and held out a hand. "Well, I'm honored. Come on, let's get you some water."
Gwen helped her up as the three made their way to the main lodge, leaving behind a slightly traumatized but victorious scene.
Gophers – 2
Bass – 1
————
"That was brutal," Lincoln muttered, watching Leshawna being helped away by her teammates.
"Big time," DJ agreed, still wincing from secondhand fear.
Suddenly, a slow, exaggerated voice broke through the tension.
"Ohhhhhh, Liiiincoln~"
The way Chris sang his name immediately sent a chill down Lincoln's spine. He stiffened as the host strutted into view with that trademark, smug grin plastered across his face.
"I've got a special challenge just for you," Chris announced, twirling his mic. "An ART-ful friend is going to make an appearance. But here's the fun part—"
He leaned in, just enough to make Lincoln uncomfortable.
"—you can't rush a performer. So he might pop up… when you least expect it."
Lincoln's face went pale. His eyes darted around, already imagining where the psychotic clown from his nightmares might spring from. He took a cautious step back.
"Aw, man…"
Before his nerves could get the better of him, DJ placed a reassuring hand on Lincoln's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"Come on, bro. Let's not think about it till it happens."
Still tense, Lincoln nodded and let DJ guide him back toward the others, doing his best not to check over his shoulder every two seconds.
———
The next challenge belonged to Heather, whose deepest fear—sumo wrestlers—was about to become very real. The amphitheater served as the ominous stage for her Challenge of Fear.
Heather stood at the center of the stage, looking visibly shaken as a towering sumo wrestler loomed on the opposite side. The man let out a thunderous shout.
"AAHHHH!!!!"
The ground almost seemed to shake from his voice. Heather froze, panic in her eyes.
On the sidelines, both the Killer Bass and Screaming Gophers watched with anticipation—and, in some cases, amusement.
"I honestly hope she loses," Ronnie Anne said flatly, arms crossed as she stood beside Gwen and Leshawna.
"AHHHHHHH!!!!!!"
With another roar, the sumo wrestler charged across the stage. Heather ducked just in time, and the massive man flew past her, slamming headfirst into the ground with a sickening crack. He was out cold.
"Heather stepped up to the plate, scoring the Gophers their third point on the board!" Chris's voice boomed from the amphitheater speakers.
Gophers – 3
Bass – 1
The Gophers erupted into cheers. Well—most of them did. Ronnie Anne, Gwen, and Leshawna all stood there, less than thrilled.
"That was a letdown," Ronnie Anne muttered.
"Yeah, but the day is young. Maybe you could get a Luchador challenge?" Gwen offered with a smirk.
Ronnie Anne seemed to consider it, but then shook her head.
"I'd love to, but if I keep acting like that, I'll get eliminated. The others are starting to get scared."
Leshawna's brow furrowed. "Girl, you know we'd never vote for you."
Ronnie Anne gave her a soft smile. "I know. And same. But the others? They don't know me like you do… I know what a bad impression can do to someone."
Gwen and Leshawna exchanged a look, surprised by the weight in Ronnie Anne's voice.
Before they could say more, Chris's voice rang out again.
"ON TO THE NEXT CHALLENGE OF FEAR!!!"
Ronnie Anne turned and walked away with the rest of the campers, her posture calm but reserved. Gwen and Leshawna stayed behind a few seconds longer, concern etched on both their faces.
⸻
Leshawna – CONFESSIONAL
"What was that all about? I mean, I get it. Making a bad impression is real. But Ronnie's been nothin' but upfront and sweet since day one. Okay, yeah, she kicked Heather's scrawny butt, and she did chuck Cody outta the cabin… oh, and scared off a bear. Ooooh, I see what she's talkin' about…"
⸻
Gwen – CONFESSIONAL
"I know Ronnie Anne is tough and could most definitely kick my butt, but she wouldn't. Because she's a good person."
She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.
"I've dealt with bad impressions before. If you wear black, read books, like heavy metal, or don't want to hang out with people 24/7, you're suddenly a satanist or a serial killer. Bunch of small-minded (BLEEP)ers."
———
In the quiet of the forest, Bridgette sat calmly on a tree stump while the remaining campers gathered behind Chris. The host gave his signature smirk as he announced her task.
"Now Bridgette begins her six hours of solitude in the woods. Are you feeling pretty confident?"
Bridgette stood tall, raising her arms in a show of boldness.
"I'm not scared. Six hours out here is nothing!"
Just then, a nearby chipmunk chirped. Bridgette turned toward the sound, her confident expression cracking into wide-eyed fear.
"Ahhh… just fine."
Lincoln and Geoff stepped forward, concern written across their faces.
"Are you sure about this, Bridge?" Lincoln asked.
"Lincoln's right, babe. No reason to just sit out here for hours," Geoff added.
Bridgette offered them a warm smile, then steeled her gaze.
"You two are sweet, but I can do this."
Lincoln smiled back as Bridgette turned to Geoff and hugged him tightly.
"Thanks for worrying about me."
Geoff blushed but returned the hug.
"Always, Bridgette."
Bridgette then gave Lincoln a friendly hug, which the white-haired boy returned. From the crowd, Ronnie Anne watched with clenched teeth, her jealousy bubbling just beneath the surface.
"Anytime, Bridge," Lincoln said with a warm smile as they separated.
Just then, the rest of the "fashionable" girls emerged from the trees—Eva leading the way with Katie and Lindsay trailing behind. The Killer Bass chuckled quietly at their getups, but before anyone could say a word, Eva glared at them with enough fury to freeze lava.
"Anyone laughs, and you'll be in the GROUND."
The threat silenced both teams immediately. Katie looked absolutely devastated.
"I. Look. Ugly!" she cried, covering her face.
Lincoln stepped forward once again, his voice calm and reassuring.
"Don't think like that, Katie. You're doing this to help win, and I think you pull it off."
Katie peeked down at her clothes, uncertain, then looked back at him with a soft smile.
"Oh thanks, Lincoln."
She hugged him. Hard.
Ronnie Anne's glare intensified, her eyes narrowing like laser beams.
Chris clapped his hands together.
"Now that the fashionistas have returned, we head to the beach for your Challenge of Fear!"
Gwen flinched at the announcement, visibly anxious. Trent gently placed a hand on her shoulder to comfort her as the campers started walking out of the forest.
Bridgette, trailing behind, caught a glimpse of Ronnie Anne's expression and took note of just how furious she looked.
⸻
Bridgette – CONFESSIONAL
"I dunno… maybe I'm just overthinking it, but Ronnie looked super ticked. I hugged Lincoln for, like, two seconds — as a friend! But still… I hope she knows that."
She sighed, then added with a thoughtful shake of her head.
"But I've never seen Ronnie Anne that angry before — and honestly? Kinda justified. Katie's been way too clingy. I get it, her best friend just left, but latching onto a guy you barely know? That's not cool."
She paused, her expression suddenly shifting to worry. Bridgette brought her hands to her face.
"She must totally hate me for hugging Link like that."
Lowering her hands, she looked directly at the camera with quiet conviction.
"I love Lincoln like a brother. He's a sweet guy, but I see him more like family than anything romantic."
—————-
At the beach of Camp Wawanakwa, Gwen lay inside a transparent glass coffin as Chris nonchalantly shoveled sand on top of it.
"If you can survive being buried for the allotted time," Chris announced with a grin, "you'll probably cinch this challenge for your team."
Gwen looked pale, practically frozen with fear. She clutched a walkie-talkie tight to her chest, her only lifeline. Trent stood beside the coffin, visibly tense, while Ronnie Anne crouched close, trying to offer reassurance.
"There's enough air in there for an hour. You only need to do five minutes," Trent said softly, trying to calm her.
"You got this, Gwen," Ronnie Anne added, her tone firm but kind. "This won't be awful. Just hold on."
Chris grinned wider.
"As long as we decide to dig you up."
Trent and Ronnie Anne both shot daggers at him.
"Not funny, you anfitrión de radio mediocre con tapones de pelo cheap," Ronnie Anne snapped.
Chris gave her an exaggerated offended look.
"Okay, the second I finish that Duolingo course, your butt is deep water, chica."
He continued to pile sand over Gwen's coffin, the glass fogging slightly from inside. Trent knelt down, still gripping the walkie-talkie, hyper-focused on Gwen's voice. Only her face remained visible now, peeking through a thin layer of sand.
"I'll be listening the whole time," he told her. "Just yell if you panic, and I'll dig you out."
"Stay strong, Gwen," Ronnie Anne added.
Gwen exhaled slowly, her face pale but calm.
"Goodbye, cruel world," she said dramatically — half-joking, half-praying.
As the last handfuls of sand fell and completely buried the coffin, Ronnie Anne and Trent stayed right there, kneeling beside it.
"I'm not leaving till she's back up," Trent said, his voice steady.
"Same, guitar man," Ronnie Anne agreed. "I'm not going anywhere."
But Chris wasn't done being Chris.
"Oh yeah, Ronnie Anne," he said with a wicked smile. "Your challenge awaits."
She raised a skeptical brow.
"I don't have a fear. I never shared anything at the campfire."
Chris gave a dark chuckle.
"Oh, but you so do. See, we're always watching everything you do and say. And since you've been an audience favorite since day one…" he leaned in with a smug grin, "the cameras are always on you."
A flicker of worry crossed Ronnie Anne's face.
"Your challenge is over near the totem pole. Better hurry~."
And with that, Chris walked off whistling.
Ronnie Anne stared after him, tense. Trent noticed the worry in her posture.
He didn't say anything — but his concern deepened.
————
Back at camp, DJ stood frozen in place, staring wide-eyed at the small garden snake slithering calmly on a flat rock.
"This is it, DJ!" Chris called out with flair. "All you gotta do is pet the little guy, and boom — one point for the Bass!"
"Hey, you can do this, buddy!" Duncan shouted from the sidelines, giving DJ a supportive fist pump.
The rest of the Bass team echoed encouragement, except for Katie — still dressed in her outrageous "ugly" outfit — who squealed at the snake's twitch.
"Ahh! It blinked at him!"
"That's supposed to mean she likes you!" Courtney snapped, rolling her eyes before turning toward DJ with a voice sharp enough to cut glass.
"It's the smallest snake ever, DJ! Come on! Man up already!"
The sudden scream made several teammates flinch — all except one.
"Okay, that's it, Courtney."
Lincoln marched forward, not even hiding the frustration in his voice.
Courtney spun around with a scoff. "Oh, don't start with me, rabbit hair! He needs to man up for once and help us win!"
Lincoln stepped up, nose to nose with her.
"WELL YELLING AT THE GUY ISN'T HELPING!"
His sudden shout stunned the group. Courtney blinked, taken aback.
Turning away from her, Lincoln approached DJ, who was still trembling. He placed a gentle hand on the bigger teen's shoulder.
"DJ, it's a harmless snake," Lincoln said, steady and calm. "One little pet and you're done."
DJ shook his head, panicking. "Yeah, but it's slimy… and scaly! And slithery!"
Courtney scoffed again from behind. "We need this point, DJ! Suck it up!"
The rest of the Bass team glared at her, fed up. She just shrugged like she hadn't done anything wrong.
"What? We're heading back to Loserville, people."
Lincoln clenched his fists. He exhaled slowly, then said it.
"Courtney. You need to shut. The. BLEEP. UP."
The team froze. Even Duncan raised an eyebrow, impressed.
Lincoln turned his full attention back to DJ.
"You're a strong and brave guy, DJ. You've got this."
Those words sank in. DJ nodded nervously, then approached the snake like it was a bomb. With his eyes shut tight, he reached forward… and gently patted the snake on the back.
The snake flicked its tongue and curled up happily.
DJ jumped up, fists raised in triumph.
"WOO-HOO!"
Bass – 2
Gophers – 3
His team cheered behind him. Duncan clapped him on the back. "That's what I'm talkin' about!"
The celebration was short-lived, though, as Courtney strutted up proudly.
"See? Fear is only in the mind," she said smugly.
Lincoln's smile dropped like a rock.
"Oh please — you didn't help at all."
Courtney's jaw dropped. "Excuse me?! I was a CIT! I think I know how—"
Lincoln cut her off without hesitation.
"You didn't help in the diving challenge. You didn't help in dodgeball. You didn't help when we were out in the woods. Honestly, Courtney? You're dead weight on this team."
Gasps echoed from the Bass team. Courtney looked mortified.
"CIT?" Lincoln continued. "More like C-U-N—"
"TIME FOR THE NEXT CHALLENGE!!!" Chris shouted over the loudspeaker, practically diving in to cut him off before things escalated any further.
—————-
Lincoln walked alongside DJ as both teams began making their way toward Ronnie Anne's upcoming challenge.
"Thanks for the encouragement, Linc," DJ said with a grateful smile.
Lincoln bumped his fist against DJ's. "Anytime, man."
The calm ended abruptly.
HONK. HONK. HONK.
The unmistakable sound of a bike horn made them both flinch. They turned… and froze.
Emerging from the trees was a clown. Not just any clown — one dressed in a black-and-white harlequin outfit, dragging a garbage bag stuffed to the brim with who-knew-what. He held the tiny horn in one gloved hand… and honked it again with eerie glee.
"Oh BLEEP," Lincoln muttered, slowly backing up.
DJ took a nervous step backward as the clown crept closer, honking with every few steps.
"L-Link… maybe he's not that bad," DJ offered weakly. "Can't be as scary as the real thing, right?"
The clown suddenly stopped. He stared at DJ — no emotion, just a tilt of the head.
Then he snapped his fingers and dropped the bag with a thud.
Rummaging inside with theatrical flair, he pulled something out — something white, round, and—
DJ caught it on reflex.
It was a human skull.
His eyes widened. His knees buckled.
THUD.
DJ fainted.
Lincoln stood alone. The clown looked at him and placed a gloved hand over his chest as if to say, "Why, thank you."
"I-I know you're not Art the Clown, but seriously dude… you are terrifying."
The clown smiled — or at least, Lincoln imagined he did. Slowly, he reached into the bag again.
This time, he pulled out a gleaming butcher knife. It caught the sunlight like a beacon of doom.
Lincoln's face went pale.
"Oh BLEEP!!!"
He spun on his heel and sprinted, arms pumping like mad.
Behind him, the clown gave chase — honking, giggling silently, and swinging the bag of horrors as he ran.
_________________________________________________________________________________________
"Still alive in there?" Trent knelt beside the sand-covered glass coffin, speaking softly into the walkie-talkie. "Only three more minutes."
Gwen's muffled voice crackled through. "And then you'll dig me up, right?"
Trent smiled faintly. "Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere. I promise."
Suddenly, a scream pierced the calm.
"AHHHH! GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU FREAK!!!"
Trent's head snapped up just in time to see Lincoln bolting across the beach — being chased by a black-and-white clown, honking a tiny horn like some twisted nightmare.
From under the sand, Gwen's voice came back.
"…What happened?"
Trent pressed the button. "Link's running from some black-and-white dude with a horn."
There was a pause before Gwen replied. "Can't blame Lincoln for that. Art's one of the most brutal slashers ever."
"Art?" Trent asked, glancing uneasily at the clown, who was still tailing Lincoln in a silent, chaotic zigzag.
"Yeah," Gwen replied. "That's his name. Art. He's from Terrifier. It's pretty brutal."
Trent visibly shuddered. "Yeah, okay… I get it why Lincoln's scared of him now. Dude looks like a mime."
"Wait," Gwen said. "Are you afraid of mimes?"
Trent sighed and sat down next to the grave. "My mom took me to a carnival once when I was four. I wanted to see the elephants — I was stoked!"
Gwen's voice softened with interest. "Yeah?"
"I was so busy watching them I lost track of her for like, a minute. I started calling out. And when I turned around…" Trent's voice dropped. "There he was. This horrible white face with black lips, pretending to be me. I screamed and tried to run, but every time I turned, he was there, doing this creepy fake run and scream routine—"
Unbeknownst to him, a real mime had crept up silently behind him.
The mime tilted his head… then squatted when Trent did, lifted an invisible walkie when Trent did, even gasped silently when Trent did — completely synchronized.
Trent turned his head slowly… and froze.
The mime stared back, wide-eyed, perfectly mirroring Trent's expression like a reflection in a haunted mirror.
"AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
Trent launched off the ground with a panicked scream, sprinting in a zigzag pattern down the beach like his soul was trying to leave his body. The mime paused for a beat — then mock-sprinted after him, miming exaggerated terror as if he were the one being chased.
"AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!"
Trent took off running as Gwen's concerned voice crackled back from the walkie talkie.
"…Trent?"
Chris's voice blared over a megaphone.
"Just talk to him, brah! Ask him to go away or something! Okay, we've got two minutes left before Gwen's done. Cody, you're up!"
—————-
On the grassy edge of the camp clearing, Cody stood stiffly in front of a makeshift metal contraption that looked like a garbage can had mated with a washing machine… and then exploded. Wires jutted out in all directions. A digital countdown blinked 10:00 in ominous red.
Chris stood beside it, holding a thick roll of blueprints with one hand and pointing to the bomb with the other.
"All right, Cody," Chris said with a smirk. "This garbage bomb's going off in exactly ten minutes. Everything you need to know to diffuse it is right here in these… totally legit schematic blueprints."
He slapped the papers against Cody's chest.
Cody looked down at the mess of confusing diagrams and barely legible scribbles. "Wait—what?! No way! I can't do this!"
Chris just laughed and started backing away like he was afraid the whole thing might detonate at any second.
"Then, uh… I'd suggest you find a safe place to hide, brah," Chris said, already halfway down the trail. "Later, dude!"
"Wait!" Cody called after him, panicked. "You're not gonna stay and watch?!"
Chris stopped only to flash a thumbs-up from a safe distance.
"No way, man! That's a live bomb!"
And with that, he vanished into the trees, leaving Cody standing there — blueprint in one hand, sweaty screwdriver in the other — while the timer ticked down behind him.
9:57…
Cody whimpered.
—————
Lincoln sprinted through the woods, heart pounding like a jackhammer in his chest. Twigs snapped underfoot as he bolted toward the mess hall, desperate to get away from the silent nightmare chasing him.
He didn't stop running until he was inside the dimly lit building, breath ragged. Glancing around, he backed himself toward a corner, hoping to buy a moment of peace.
BUMP!
"Ahh!"
"Whoa!"
Lincoln and another person collided back-to-back and spun around, startled out of their skin.
"Trent?" Lincoln asked.
"Link?!" Trent responded, just as surprised.
The two stared at each other in disbelief, both wide-eyed and pale.
"What are you doing here?" Trent asked between breaths.
"Me? I'm hiding from the psycho clown with a butcher's knife," Lincoln replied quickly, his voice tight with panic. "Why are you here? I thought you were on the beach with Gwen."
Trent's face shifted instantly. His eyes widened with horror as realization hit him like a slap to the face.
"Oh crap—Gwen!!"
He turned toward the door with a gasp, panic completely overriding his fear of mimes… which unfortunately reappeared at that exact moment. Standing just outside the mess hall window was the same silent mime, watching them with a fixed, unsettling smile.
Trent didn't hesitate. With a shout of fear-fueled determination, he swung his fist and slugged the mime square in the face. The mime dropped like a sack of potatoes, arms and legs stiff as he hit the ground without a sound.
Trent bolted, tearing down the path toward the beach and the girl buried beneath the sand.
DING!
A triumphant chime echoed from the camp's intercom system.
Bass – 2
Gophers – 4
Lincoln stood frozen for a moment, staring in stunned silence. He couldn't believe what he'd just witnessed—how Trent, someone just as scared as he was, had shoved aside his own fear without hesitation. All for Gwen.
Maybe… maybe it really could be that easy.
VRRRMMMMMMMMM
A loud mechanical roar filled the room, sharp and sudden. Lincoln stiffened, the blood draining from his face. Slowly, he turned around.
Standing at the far end of the mess hall was Art the Clown, now holding a chainsaw. Its blade gleamed in the dim light, revving like a metal beast hungry for blood.
Art gave Lincoln a playful little wave and made a mocking "found ya" gesture with a tilt of his head.
Lincoln didn't wait. He turned on his heel and bolted once more, screaming as the clown gave chase, chainsaw snarling behind him.
——————
Back at the cabins, the campers who had completed their challenges—or were still waiting for theirs to be set up—lounged around in the fading daylight. Some were resting, others chatting quietly, mentally bracing themselves for whatever twisted stunt Chris had planned next.
Across the clearing, Lindsay, Katie, and Eva were still stuck in their humiliating outfits. The mismatched mess of neon tights, clashing floral prints, rhinestone tops, and oversized accessories looked like a fashion apocalypse had exploded on them. Lindsay fiddled with a dangling earring the size of a doorknob, while Katie sulked in silence.
Heather, reclining nearby with her arms behind her head, couldn't resist letting out a smug little chuckle.
⸻
Heather — CONFESSIONAL
"My plan to get rid of Rageholic Eva didn't work last time because of that stupid albino." She rolled her eyes with a scoff. "But looks like I've got a second chance."
⸻
Heather stood up, stretching with an exaggerated yawn before casually sauntering over to Eva. She wore a sweet smile that didn't reach her eyes, her voice syrupy with fake warmth.
"Wow, Eva. You look so good," she said, the word practically dripping sarcasm. "It's nice to see you put effort into your looks for once."
Eva's jaw tightened. Her hands clenched into fists as Heather circled her like a vulture.
"I mean," Heather continued, "it must feel so empowering to try on something new. Instead of, you know… wearing the same sweaty gym clothes you've had since the Stone Age."
Eva's body trembled with restrained fury. Her nostrils flared.
"BLEEP YOU, HEATHER!"
The dam burst. Eva lunged at her with a roar, but Geoff, Duncan, and Courtney quickly rushed in, barely managing to hold her back.
"EVA, STOP THIS!" Courtney shouted, struggling against the brute strength of the furious girl.
But Heather wasn't finished.
"I mean, come on," she said with a condescending smirk. "You can scream all you want, but it's never gonna land you a boyfriend, Eva."
That was it.
Eva let out a primal scream and tossed the campers holding her off like they were stuffed animals. Her hands ripped at the tacky clothing as she tore it off piece by piece, revealing a navy blue sports bra and matching underwear. She stomped forward like an enraged beast, her muscles flexing and veins bulging.
With a roar that sounded more animal than human, Eva charged forward like a gorilla on the warpath.
Chris, who had been watching nearby with far too much glee, reached calmly behind his back and pulled out a tranquilizer gun.
"I knew this would come in handy," he said with a smirk, pulling the trigger.
THWIP!
The dart hit Eva square in the butt, causing her to stagger mid-charge. Her eyes rolled back and she dropped like a sack of weights, hitting the dirt with a thud.
Chris spun the tranq gun around his finger like a Wild West gunslinger.
"Beautiful," he said, just before accidentally pulling the trigger a second time—firing a dart into a random intern, who collapsed behind the camera with a soft groan.
Chris blinked.
"…Oops."
————
At the beach, Trent dug furiously into the sand, his hands blistering as he clawed away at the mound where Gwen had been buried. His face was pale with guilt and panic.
"Gwen! You're alright!" he gasped as he uncovered the glass panel and saw her face, slightly red from heat but alive.
Before he could celebrate, Gwen hurled her walkie-talkie at his face. It bounced off his nose with a thud.
"YOU LEFT!!" she screamed, fury blazing in her eyes.
Trent staggered back, clutching his face. "I'd never leave you! That mime showed up and chased me—I was so scared, I panicked!"
His voice cracked with genuine remorse, but Gwen wasn't convinced.
"Oh yeah? Right. I bet you—"
"WHAT THE HELL, MAN?!"
Both teens turned to see the mime stomping up the beach, his pale face now sporting a swollen cheek and a clearly broken nose. He no longer looked like a silent performer—he looked pissed.
"I'm doing my mime act—and you punch me in the face?!" the mime shouted, his voice raspy from injury and indignation.
Trent blinked, utterly nonchalant. "Well… I told you to stop."
The mime threw up his hands. "I TASTE BLOOD!!"
Trent shrugged. "Well, there's a lot of it."
The mime looked like he was about to scream again—but instead, with an angry growl, he turned and stormed off toward the woods, muttering curse words in French.
DING!
The scoreboard updated with a loud chime:
Bass – 2
Gophers – 5
Gwen blinked from under the remaining sand. "Wait… did we just get a point for me not suffocating and Trent committing assault?"
Trent dusted sand off his jeans. "Guess so."
————-
At the totem pole, the Gophers — now joined by Gwen and Trent — stood alongside most of the Bass team, all gathered in an open field. Lincoln was noticeably absent.
Ronnie Anne looked around the clearing, raising an eyebrow. "So this is my challenge?"
A loud WHUP-WHUP-WHUP cut through the air as a helicopter appeared overhead, descending quickly while carrying a large, white shipping-container-like box beneath it.
"NOPE, THIS IS!" Chris shouted, his voice gleeful over the roar of the rotors.
The chopper lowered the container onto the ground with a heavy thunk before flying off, leaving the campers staring at the box.
Chris knocked on the side with exaggerated flair. "Ronnie Anne, your fear isn't exactly easy to replicate like everyone else's. But this baby makes it no problem."
He tapped the metal again for emphasis.
"This is a sensory isolation and VR experience device. It'll scan your mind and drop you into a simulation of your worst nightmare. All you have to do is last five minutes. If you can't… you forfeit, and your team loses a point."
Ronnie Anne's eyes narrowed at the box, her jaw tense. But after a moment, she nodded, steel in her gaze. She stepped forward and entered the container.
Chris promptly shut the door behind her with a clang.
Inside, it was sterile — just four white walls, a roof, and a single VR headset dangling from the ceiling.
Ronnie Anne raised an eyebrow. "If I end up in some kind of TRON thing, I'm gonna be pissed… though those light cycles were pretty awesome."
She chuckled to herself, then slipped the helmet on.
.
.
.
Nothing.
"Chris got so ripped off," Ronnie Anne muttered.
She yanked the helmet off and opened the door — only to squint at the blinding sunlight outside. The camp was… deserted.
No campers. No staff. No noise.
Just silence.
"…What the hell?"
She stepped out slowly, eyes scanning the eerily empty field.
"HELLOOOOO?! ANYONE HERE?!"
"Yo."
Ronnie Anne turned, startled by the sudden voice.
Lincoln stood a few feet away, casual and calm.
"Hey Link, where's everyone at?" she asked, heart pounding slightly.
He shrugged. "Gone."
"I don't get it. Why is everyone gone?"
Lincoln's expression shifted. Cold. Dismissive.
"Oh. Because no one wanted anything to do with you."
The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She froze, staring at him.
"What?! Dude, what are you talking about?!"
"You were never gonna make it," Lincoln said bluntly. "You're too weak. Too soft. And too freaking unattractive."
Ronnie Anne's mouth parted, stunned and hurt. "What…?"
Behind Lincoln, two more figures appeared — Katie and Bridgette. Lincoln casually slung an arm around each of them.
"I mean, like, it totally tracks with how you've been," Katie said with a mocking smile.
"For real," Bridgette added.
Before Ronnie Anne could even react, Lincoln leaned over and kissed Katie. Then Bridgette. Both girls giggled.
"WHAT THE BLEEP?!" Ronnie Anne shouted.
Lincoln smirked, his arms still around the girls before they started to circle Ronnie Anne like lionesses.
"Oh, I got tired of waiting for you to grow a spine and ask me out. These two? Way better. They're cute. Girly. And not so fat their butts expand out of their pants."
As if on cue, Ronnie Anne yelped as a hand grabbed her butt — hard.
She turned to see Bridgette making a groping gesture.
"Soft yet firm," Bridgette taunted. "If you weren't so stingy, that fat ass of yours might've gotten you a boyfriend."
Ronnie Anne's fists clenched.
But she didn't have time to react — her pants were yanked down from behind, exposing her pink underwear.
"¿¡¡QUÉ DIABLOS??!!"
Ronnie Anne was knocked to the ground as She spun to see Katie grinning behind her.
"Who could ever love a bully who thinks pantsing her crush is how to show affection?"
Lincoln laughed coldly as Katie and Bridgette walked back to him. He wrapped his arms around them and leaned close.
"Took the words right outta my mouth, Katie. I'd never date that abomination. I'd sooner lick the bathroom floors than date her."
"WAIT, LINCOLN!!"
Ronnie Anne pulled her pants up, desperately chasing after him.
But with a WHOOSH, Lincoln and the two girls disintegrated before her eyes like ash in the wind.
"WHAT THE F—?!"
Suddenly, the sky turned black, the world around her glowing with a sickly red hue. Dread rose in her chest as dozens of whispering voices echoed around her from the void.
"You're gonna die alone."
"You'll die alone."
"Nadie te extrañará…"
Ronnie Anne dropped to her knees, gripping her head as the voices grew louder, more mocking, more vicious.
And then, for the first time in a long time, she screamed.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"
——-
Lincoln sprinted through the woods near the totem pole, still desperately fleeing the looming presence of Art the Clown. Panic gripped every muscle in his body, his breath sharp and uneven as he dared not look back.
Then—
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"
The bloodcurdling scream echoed through the trees, cutting through Lincoln's fear like a knife. His heart dropped.
"Ronnie Anne!!"
The second he heard her voice, something shifted inside him — panic was replaced by urgency. He pivoted, turning toward the sound, but doing so put him directly in the clown's path.
Art lunged — but Lincoln didn't stop. His eyes darted to a nearby rock. Without hesitation, he scooped it up and hurled it.
CRACK!
The rock hit the clown square in the head, disorienting him. Seizing the moment, Lincoln charged in, wrestling the chainsaw from Art's grip. With a strength fueled by adrenaline and desperation, Lincoln leveled the roaring weapon right at the clown's chest.
"WHOA! WHOA! DUDE, I'M NOT ART!!!"
The clown suddenly spoke — voice cracking with panic.
Lincoln froze. His brain caught up with his body as he blinked in shock. "Oh. OH! Oh my god, dude, I'm so sorry."
He immediately powered down the chainsaw and stepped back, offering a hand.
The man took it, wincing as Lincoln helped him up. "Nah, you're fine, kid. I knew this whole setup was messed up — but the job paid too well. Sorry for chasing you all over camp. Chris is a sociopath."
Lincoln nodded slowly, breath still catching up with him. "It's no problem. Hey, wait — are you the actual guy from the movies?"
The actor smirked and shook his head. "Nope. David's working on a music video for Terrifier and prepping the next film. I'm a film student. Studied all his performances, nailed the mannerisms. Plus, I work for less than David… so here I am."
Lincoln raised his brows, impressed despite everything. "Pretty cool. And uh… sorry about the whole chainsaw fiasco."
He looked off in the direction of the totem pole, worry creeping back in. "But my friend needs me. So… later."
Lincoln took off running, cutting through the trees like a blur, leaving the actor behind.
The man watched him go with a crooked smile. "Nice kid."
He exhaled, shoulders sagging in exhaustion as he turned to leave, already picturing peeling off the makeup and cashing the check from Chris. He just wanted to go home.
DING
Bass – 3
Gophers – 5
———-
At the metal box, everyone — both Bass and Gophers alike — jumped at the shrill, haunting scream echoing from the metal box.
It was Ronnie Anne.
The timer on the machine finally buzzed. Chris, suddenly looking a little pale, stepped up and flipped a few switches. The device powered down with a heavy thunk, and the door creaked open.
A long, tense moment passed.
Then — slowly, unsteadily — Ronnie Anne stepped out.
"Ronnie Anne, you braved your worst nightmare," Chris announced with forced enthusiasm. "And you might've just cinched the victory for your team! How do you feel?"
Bass – 3
Gophers – 6
But Ronnie Anne didn't respond right away.
She staggered forward, like she'd just taken a blow to the head. Her eyes were glassy, her steps uneven.
"I… feel… what?" she mumbled, clutching her head. Tears began welling in her eyes, her breath hitching.
Leshawna, Gwen, and Trent exchanged concerned glances.
Then came a voice — urgent, panicked.
"Ronnie! Are you okay!?"
Lincoln sprinted over, his expression full of worry. Ronnie Anne blinked, eyes wide.
"Lincoln… is that you?"
Lincoln slowed, confused. "Yeah, it's me. What happened?"
That confirmation — that reassurance — made something inside Ronnie Anne break.
"Heh… heh…. AHHHHHAAA!!!"
She ran forward and collapsed into Lincoln's chest, throwing her arms around him and sobbing uncontrollably.
"LINCOLN! DON'T LEAVE ME! NEVER LEAVE!!"
Lincoln held her tightly, eyes wide with shock. Her whole body trembled against his. The rest of the campers watched in stunned silence.
Even Heather — usually amused by others' pain — looked on with a cold, calculated satisfaction, but said nothing.
Gwen and Leshawna hurried up, trying to help calm the distraught girl as Ronnie Anne cried harder, clinging to Lincoln like her life depended on it.
Chris, for once, was speechless. The depth of her breakdown — the sheer emotional rawness — had even rattled him.
Then Lincoln's head snapped up.
His glare burned into Chris like a laser — sharp, intense, furious. The kind of glare that said: If you come near her again, I'll kill you.
Chris instinctively stepped back… then ran. Several other campers followed, murmuring uncomfortably and giving the scene a wide berth.
Left in silence, Lincoln cradled Ronnie Anne gently.
"Let's get you to bed," he whispered.
He picked her up in his arms — bridal style — and started toward the Gopher cabin. Gwen and Leshawna followed closely, concern etched deep into their faces.
No one else spoke.
Not even the cameras.
——
Lincoln - CONFESSIONAL
Lincoln sat in the confessional, arms folded, his usual relaxed posture replaced with something heavier — more serious. The camera flickered on.
"Okay… that was actually scary," he admitted, his voice low.
He looked off to the side for a moment, collecting his thoughts before glancing back at the lens.
"That was the most afraid I've felt in this whole challenge. Not because of the killer clown or the chainsaw or anything like that."
He paused, eyes narrowing slightly with worry.
"It was seeing Ronnie Anne like that — completely broken. Crying. Panicking. I've never seen her like that before. Ever."
His voice cracked slightly near the end, and he exhaled hard through his nose.
"I didn't know what they showed her in that freaky simulation… but whatever it was? It messed her up."
Lincoln looked down at his hands for a beat, then leaned forward.
"Whoever thought that was a good idea — they better hope I never find them alone."
———
Bridgette - CONFESIONAL
Actually, I'd like to thank the producers for making me face my fear. I'm proud of myself. There's really nothing to be afraid of."
———
Lincoln had just reached the cabins when a massive explosion rocked the sky. The blast echoed like thunder through the trees.
He turned to the woods just in time to see Bridgette bolting out in full panic mode, screaming at the top of her lungs:
"AHHHHH!!!!"
She sprinted past them, covered in filth and fear. Lincoln blinked in stunned confusion. Leshawna, however, connected the dots almost immediately.
"Ohhhhhh. I guess Cody failed that bomb thing of his."
Sure enough, Cody limped into view, coated in garbage like a human landfill. He staggered once, groaned, and collapsed face-first into the dirt.
"Jesus," Lincoln muttered. "That kid cannot win."
Then—
"AHHHHHHH HAAAAA AAHHHHH!!!"
This time it was Geoff, screaming and running as a sentient cloud buzzed after him. Right behind the chaos, Chris strolled along casually, remote in hand and laughing like a madman.
"What the heck is that?" Gwen asked as she joined Lincoln.
Chris smirked. "Oh, that? Some little girl in America built it. Same one who made the VR box."
Lincoln slowly turned to stare directly into the camera, deadpan.
He knew exactly who that "little girl" was.
But he shoved the thought aside. Ronnie Anne was what mattered now.
⸻
Inside the Gopher cabin, the air was still and heavy. Gwen and Leshawna followed close behind as Lincoln gently pushed the door open.
He still carried Ronnie Anne in his arms, bridal-style, her face buried in his chest. Her sobs had quieted, but her body still trembled as she clung to him.
"Which one's hers?" Lincoln asked softly.
Gwen pointed to the bunk she shared with Ronnie Anne. Lincoln nodded and stepped over, kneeling beside it.
With careful, gentle hands, he laid Ronnie Anne down, making sure her head rested on her pillow. As soon as she touched it, she grabbed it tightly and buried her face in it, her cries muffled but still heart-wrenching.
Gwen and Leshawna watched silently. Leshawna finally stepped forward, placing a hand on Lincoln's shoulder.
"Link… me and Gwen got this. You should head back to your team."
Lincoln looked at her, surprised.
Gwen added, "It's just… if you stay too long, your team might think you're helping Ronnie Anne too much. They'll need you."
Lincoln hesitated. He looked back at the trembling form on the bed. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"…If you need me," he said softly, "call for me. I'll come running."
Leshawna smiled faintly. "Appreciate ya, Q-tip."
"Thanks, Link," Gwen echoed.
Lincoln gave Ronnie Anne one last glance — then stepped out, leaving the girls to take care of her.
———-
Back inside the Gopher cabin, the soft creak of the bunk beds and the hum of crickets outside were the only sounds—except for the muffled sobbing from the corner.
Ronnie Anne lay curled on her side, her face buried deep into her pillow. Her body trembled, and her shoulders jerked slightly with every stifled sob. Leshawna sat beside her on the bed, gently rubbing her arm in slow, comforting circles.
"We're here when you're ready, baby," Leshawna murmured softly.
Near the foot of the bed, Gwen leaned against the bedpost, her tone calm and grounded.
"We're here for you, Ronnie Anne."
Ronnie Anne didn't respond at first. Her face was red and puffy, her eyes raw from crying. But after a few hiccuped breaths, she managed to whisper:
"Hic… thank you… both of you… that machine… it…"
Her voice cracked as fresh tears welled. Leshawna didn't hesitate. She wrapped her arms around Ronnie Anne and pulled her into a warm hug, holding her like she was trying to piece her back together.
"You don't have to share if you don't want to," Leshawna said.
Gwen sat down on the other side of Ronnie Anne and rested a hand on her back, rubbing slow circles with the same care.
For a moment, the tomboy just sat there in their embrace. Then, slowly, she broke away and wiped at her eyes.
"Thanks, you two… but I should talk about it. That machine showed me this… hell world, where the camp was deserted. But Lincoln was there… and he told me no one wanted me. That no one would ever be with me. That I was gonna die alone…"
Both Gwen and Leshawna froze, stunned. Gwen's lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Leshawna just clenched her fists, her jaw tightening.
⸻
Leshawna – CONFESSIONAL
Leshawna stared directly into the camera, her eyes ablaze with fury.
"Whoever decided to use that torture machine—your days are numbered. You shouldn't have done my girl like that."
⸻
Back in the cabin, Ronnie Anne stood up slowly and walked over to the mirror on the far wall. She stared at her own reflection, her expression twisted in pain and confusion.
"I know Lincoln would never say any of that… but I keep thinking that's what will happen. I hate my body…"
She swallowed hard before gesturing toward herself.
"Once I hit puberty, every douchebag in Great Lakes started to hit on me. It made me think all people cared about was these."
She pointed to her chest, then turned slightly and motioned toward her backside.
"And this. Once I got this worthless fat ass, everyone just wanted to get their hands on it—never caring about the girl it's attached to."
Her voice cracked again as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest, trying to make herself smaller.
"I'm so sorry about that, Ronnie," Gwen said, stepping forward. Leshawna joined her, voice full of heat and heart.
"Look, I've dealt with stuff like that too. They're a bunch of horny morons—you can't let them hold you back."
Ronnie Anne gave a shaky sigh.
"I know that, L… but it's like, a double-edged sword. When I got older, Lincoln never treated me different. He was still the same goofy, sweet, big-hearted dork he's always been. Always kind. Always respectful. But after this girl, Christina, broke his heart, he just… stopped looking at me like I was a girl. It made me feel like he never saw me that way. And that confused me."
Gwen and Leshawna exchanged a glance—equal parts sympathetic and frustrated on their friend's behalf.
"Girl, tons of girls go through this. Lord knows this bootay caused a mess of trouble back home," Leshawna joked, giving her hips a sassy shake.
Ronnie Anne let out a snort. A real one.
"But girl… Lincoln does like you. I've seen him checking you out every chance he gets."
Ronnie Anne blinked. "Lincoln… looks at me?"
She sounded stunned, like someone had flipped the world upside down.
Gwen stepped in. "I've heard guys will always act more kind and respectful toward girls they want to be with. Like, super kind. Because they don't wanna lose her. They don't wanna mess up."
Ronnie Anne thought about that. Her eyes softened.
"My cousin Carlota told me something similar… said the best guys are always the most clueless when the girl likes them."
Both Gwen and Leshawna laughed—it was too true.
"You think… me and Lincoln could be…?" Ronnie Anne trailed off, her cheeks flushed.
Leshawna and Gwen answered in unison.
"Of course."
"Never a doubt."
Ronnie Anne let out a quiet laugh before pulling both of them into a hug. In that moment, all the stress, fear, and doubt started to fade—replaced by the warmth of friendship, safety, and hope.
———
The sound of grinding metal filled the air as the rickety, broken Total Drama plane came limping out of the sky. Its descent was anything but smooth. The landing gear snapped on impact, sending a jolt through the whole fuselage as it scraped and bounced across the runway like a dying animal.
With a loud KICK, the cabin door burst open. Owen and Izzy tumbled out, practically flying down the stairs in a blur of limbs and panic.
"Ha! We did it!" Izzy cried, throwing her arms in the air like she just escaped a war zone.
Owen, on the other hand, dropped to his knees and began frantically kissing the dirt like it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
"Sweet Terra Firma!!!" he sobbed, nearly hugging the gravel.
Behind them, the plane groaned one final time — and then collapsed sideways, one wing sagging like a broken arm.
⸻
DING!
DING!
Bass – 3
Gophers – 8
The scoreboard updated with satisfying chimes, marking the end of another terrifying challenge… though for Owen and Izzy, the real reward was just not dying.
———
Inside the bathroom dressing area, the air was filled with the scent of lavender soap and the faint sound of distant screaming—because of course it was. But none of that mattered to Lindsay and Katie, who emerged from their stalls looking refreshed and victorious, now finally back in their normal outfits.
As they strutted out, the ugly clothes they had been forced to wear all day were unceremoniously shoved into the dirty laundry bin with dramatic flair.
"We did it!" Lindsay beamed, tossing her hair. "We made it through the whole day!"
"Longest day of my whole life!" Katie groaned, slumping against the counter like she'd just escaped a war zone.
Lindsay glanced at her bestie and suddenly gasped. "I totally forgot how cute you are!"
Katie lit up like a Christmas tree. "Oh my gosh! You are too!"
The two girls squealed in unison, instantly returning to their favorite subject—complimenting each other's style.
As they twirled and admired their reflections in the mirror, the challenge scoreboard rang out once again.
DING
DING
Bass – 4
Gophers – 9
————-
Duncan stood alone in a wide, open field.
Completely empty—except for it.
His jaw clenched. His breathing hitched. The delinquent's bravado, usually ironclad, was nowhere to be found.
Chris had gotten her.
⸻
Flashback:
"Well, what exactly is your phobia?" Courtney had asked, her tone caught somewhere between amused and curious.
Duncan hadn't met her eyes. "C-Celine Dion music store standees," he muttered, like saying it any louder might summon one.
⸻
And now one stood before him in all its terrifying glory.
A life-size cardboard cutout of Celine Dion—dressed in a flowing red gown, her frozen smile wide and too perfect, her unblinking eyes aimed directly at him.
It was exactly as he remembered.
It was his worst nightmare.
"She's pretty," Courtney said encouragingly, standing nearby. "She's nice."
Chris smirked. "Just one hug, and you're done." He snapped his fingers for effect.
Duncan didn't budge.
"That looks really… real, man," he muttered, his voice dry.
"You got this, D!!" DJ shouted, cheering from the sidelines.
Courtney stepped closer, voice gentler now. "Hey. It's okay if you can't do it."
Duncan clenched his fists. His shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. "All right…" he exhaled. "I'll try."
"You can do this," Courtney said softly, smiling.
Duncan nodded. "Okay. Okay!"
He marched forward—hesitantly, stiffly—and threw his arms around the cardboard diva like it was a time bomb. For a moment, he stood there frozen… and then slowly backed away.
Victory music played.
DING
Bass – 5
Gophers – 9
"Woohoo! Duncan! You're awesome!" Courtney cheered.
"Ha! I did it!" Duncan grinned, his confidence finally returning.
DJ, Geoff, and Katie clapped and whooped, the mood light and triumphant.
———
Lincoln jogged back into the main clearing just in time to hear a round of cheering. The campers were gathered around, some clapping, some laughing as Duncan threw his arms in the air triumphantly.
"Did we win?" Lincoln asked, hopeful but a little winded.
Cody, now cleaned up and brushing dirt off his pants, was the one to answer—deadpan as ever.
"Nope. Your team's at five to nine. Sorry, bro, but looks like us Gophers are the GOATs again."
The smug grin on Cody's face was enough to make Duncan roll his eyes. But before anyone else could respond—
Chris practically materialized between them, his trademark evil grin already plastered across his face.
"Nope! There's still one more challenge to be had," he said with the flair of a game show host.
His gaze turned sharply toward Courtney, who flinched at the sudden attention like a deer caught in headlights.
"Who? It can't be me! But I didn't—" Courtney stammered.
Chris cut her off.
"You didn't have to. We're always watching you… and your reactions!"
————-
Back in the present, Lindsay threw her hands up, vindicated.
"I knew it! Didn't I tell you guys they were eavesdropping?!"
Courtney scoffed and crossed her arms, clearly annoyed.
"Oh, who cares? It's not going to make a difference."
Chris leaned in like a devil on her shoulder, grinning wider.
"Let's make it interesting, then…" he teased. "I'll give you quintuple points if you complete it."
A collective "Oooooooh…" rose from the other campers.
Courtney stiffened. "quintuple points?"
Chris gave her a wink.
"You in, CIT?"
_________________________________________________________________________________________
The two teams stood by as Chef Hatchet poured an industrial-sized vat of neon green gelatin mix into a massive wooden pool. The sloshing, sugary goop bubbled and wobbled like a science experiment gone horribly wrong.
Courtney stood frozen, eyes wide in horror at the jiggling mass.
Lincoln crossed his arms, deadpan.
"You can't be serious."
Beside him, Duncan let out a loud, delighted snort.
"You're afraid of jelly?"
"Shut up!" Courtney snapped, flustered. "Only the green kind! It's like… sugary, jiggly snot!"
Chris stepped forward, clapping his hands with glee.
"You've got two options: face your fear and dive head-first into this booger bath—or let your team lose yet another challenge."
Groaning, Courtney reluctantly climbed the creaky ladder up to the diving board, which sat directly above the shimmering snot pool.
Meanwhile, Lincoln wandered back toward the others and finally noticed that Ronnie Anne had rejoined the group. Her eyes were still a little puffy from earlier, but she stood strong, arms crossed, watching Courtney's challenge unfold.
Lincoln gave her a small wave.
Ronnie Anne's face turned red as she looked away sharply.
Guess she's embarrassed about earlier… Lincoln thought with a slight frown, misreading her reaction.
Back up on the board, Courtney trembled as she looked down at her green, jiggling nightmare.
"This is insane! I could seriously die doing this!"
Gwen winced from the ground.
"Oh, that is just cruel… It's probably warm by now. Warm, green jelly… snotty, bouncy—ugh."
Heather gasped mockingly.
"She's not gonna do it!"
Courtney glared down. "You're not gonna make me quit!"
"Keep climbing!" Duncan called, clearly enjoying this.
"She's just trying to psych you out!" Bridgette added supportively.
"You got this, Courtney!" Lincoln shouted.
Duncan smirked. "Like you said, Courtney—it's okay if you can't do it!"
Bridgette blinked. "Wait… It is? But we'll lose!"
Courtney wavered, breathing heavy.
"Oooh…" she groaned, clutching her head. "I can't do it. I'm coming down!"
The Gophers erupted into cheers as Chris grinned smugly.
"Well, there you have it! The Gophers win invincibility this week… again!"
⸻
COURTNEY - CONFESSIONAL
Courtney sat in the booth, red-eyed and trying not to cry.
"I'm so embarrassed. How could I be so weak? I deserve to go home! Ugh!"
She shook her head furiously and slapped her forehead.
"Okay, stop it! You're pathetic! Show some confidence, Courtney!"
She whimpered and slumped in the chair, defeated.
⸻
Back with the others, Heather was already in full villain mode, laughing her perfectly plucked eyebrows off.
"HAHAHA! This is the best day ever! Grande-butt made herself look like a little crybaby!"
That set the crowd off—but not with laughter. Both teams turned and glared at her.
Ronnie Anne's glare was the hardest of them all.
Heather caught it and grinned wickedly.
"Awww, what's the matter, Ronnie? Gonna cry some more?"
She mock-rubbed her eyes with her fists.
"Boo-hoo, boo-hoo, boo—WHOA!"
Heather's feet left the ground—suddenly and violently.
Lincoln had hoisted her above his head like she was a sack of trash, completely unfazed by her kicking.
"You know, Heather…" Lincoln began, his voice calm but sharp, "you are a selfish, petty jerk."
Heather flailed. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW OR I'LL—"
"But I'll be the bigger person," Lincoln continued, ignoring her, "and do you a favor. You can have dessert before dinner."
Heather's threats turned into screams as Lincoln casually walked toward the pool of jelly.
"No… WAIT!! NO, NO—!!"
SPLAT.
She landed with a jiggly explosion that splashed green glop all over the deck.
Heather popped back up, covered head to toe in sticky jelly, hair clinging to her face like seaweed.
For a second, there was silence.
Then the entire camp burst into howling laughter.
Even Chris was doubled over. Campers from both teams pointed and laughed, but the loudest laughter came from Ronnie Anne.
Lincoln glanced her way, smiling warmly at the sound. She wiped a tear of laughter from her eye and shot him a look of pure gratitude.
__________________________________________________________________________________
The flickering fire pit cast long shadows across the worried faces of the Killer Bass, all nine campers gathered in silence around the flames—soon to be only eight.
Chris stood at his usual post, a plate of marshmallows in hand and a smirk plastered on his face.
"Killer Bass! Sad to see you here again. You know the drill: no marshmallow, no hundred grand. So let's start with the bass who dealt with some heinous stuff today—but managed to deliver some huge laughs."
Chris flicked a marshmallow toward the white-haired camper.
"Lincoln."
Lincoln caught it with a small smile and a nod.
"Duncan, DJ, Geoff," Chris continued. "You three amigos are safe."
Each guy caught their marshmallow with relief, sharing grins with one another.
Across the fire, Bridgette sat with her fingers crossed, praying silently after her rough performance. Her prayer was answered.
"Bridgette."
She caught her marshmallow mid-air with a small gasp of relief.
"Harold," Chris said with a shrug, "You're safe… for some reason."
Harold tried to look cool catching his marshmallow—only to trip, fall, and faceplant. Again.
That left only two Bass without marshmallows.
Chris's tone shifted.
"Campers. Only one marshmallow left."
He turned toward Eva and Courtney, both tense in their seats.
"Eva, you were the first Bass to lose your challenge—not from fear, but because your rage got the better of you. Again."
Eva rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, scowling.
"Courtney," Chris continued, "you had the chance to win this for your team… but you chickened out. Even after telling a teammate to man up."
Courtney hung her head, shame written all over her face. She glanced toward DJ, mouthing an apology, which the big guy accepted with a kind nod.
Chris drew out the moment, then held up the final marshmallow.
"One of you is going home tonight… and cannot return. Ever."
The pause felt eternal.
"The final marshmallow of the night goes to…"
…
…
…
"Courtney."
She barely caught it before tears filled her eyes. She whispered a soft thank you to no one in particular—maybe the universe itself.
Eva had a very different reaction.
"YOU HAVE GOT TO BE BLEEPING KIDDING ME!!"
Chris just smirked. "Would this face lie to you?"
"YES!!" Eva roared.
She took a deep breath, fuming, then threw her hands up.
"FINE. I DIDN'T NEED THIS MORONIC SHOW ANYWAY!!"
A camera got too close to her face.
"HEY, GET THAT CAMERA OUTTA MY FACE!"
CRACK!
Eva punched the lens, sending the feed to static. When it returned, it was from a second camera catching her storming toward the Boat of Losers. The cameraman she'd decked was still on the ground, groaning.
Chris blinked. "What is it with girls breaking cameras on this island?!"
Eva boarded the boat, arms crossed, jaw clenched. With one last furious glare, she disappeared into the fog.
Chris turned back to the camera for the closing. "Another dramatic elimination ceremo—OOF!"
Chris doubled over in pain as a sudden kick landed square in his gut.
Lincoln stood over him, arms crossed.
He stepped forward, facing the camera with a scowl.
"Who will be eliminated next? What team will be at the elimination ceremony next week? And will Chris EVER put Ronnie Anne in that nightmare machine again?"
Chris wheezed out an answer from the dirt.
"Nooo… I won't… I deserved that…"
Lincoln smirked, satisfied.
"Find out the answers to the other questions, next time… on TOTAL! DRAMA! ISLAND!!"
——————————————————————————————————————————————
Afterword
And just like that, Eva is gone. Surprisingly, she handled her elimination better than in canon… for the most part.
Sorry for the long wait—life's been busy, and I've also been deep into working on that Mutant in the Family I've mentioned. I really appreciate everyone's patience. The writing bug bit me hard, and I cranked out that entire fic in about two weeks.
Now, some behind-the-scenes insight:
Leshawna's challenge was inspired by the horror film The Haunt, particularly the tunnel with real and fake spiders. I wanted to give her a moment that pushed her limits while showing how tough and protective she really is.
Art the Clown: In this fanfic, No Such Luck and Brawl in the Family never happened, so I wanted a unique phobia for Lincoln. Price of Admission hinted at horror, and I wanted to expand on that with something fresh. Art the Clown, from Terrifier, is one of the most iconic horror characters in recent years, so he fit perfectly. This fic takes place in the summer of 2024, just before Terrifier 3.
Ronnie Anne's nightmare was one of the hardest things to write. Canonically, she doesn't show a clear phobia—but her behavior, especially during her early appearances with Lincoln, hinted at deep insecurities. I explored the fear of abandonment and rejection, and how her tough-girl act is a defense mechanism. She wants Lincoln to see her as a girl—as a woman—but resents how others only focus on her looks. That emotional tug-of-war gave me the perfect setup for her worst fear.
That's it for this chapter! I'll try to get the next one out soon. Thanks again for the support—and I'll see you next time on Total Loud Drama Island:
Stay loud, stay dramatic.