OK, first official fic! Now, as if it needs to be said, I don't own Total Drama at all. If I did...things would be radically different, mainly in who won what seasons and such, BUT that's neither here nor there.So, some important things to consider for this fic are that: 1) There will be some shipping type romance (mostly with DxC but I'm not limiting it to that alone) 2) This is rated T because it's not too violent or anything, but there WILL be character deaths. You have been warned. This is a more serious fic; guns, swords, bombs, death, abuse (in a non-sexual way) are all fair game...not saying they'll be used but... With that out of the way, i think the only thing left to say is: Enjoy! :D
3)Reviews are welcomed! I would like them to be nice and what not, but if I'm screwing up, let me know! How else will I get better? Speaking of which, some characters in this fic aren't featured too much on the show, so my writing of them might be a little off, just because there isn't a whole lot to take from.
Rain drops pelted the roof of the building fiercely as the thunderclouds roared from above. From his knees, the sopping wet, lone fighter breathed deeply and focused his mind and willpower on the task before him as blood ran down his face and out of his mouth, tainting the puddle of rainwater beneath him.
"Give up," the female assailant commanded from the air just above him, "I've already won!"
"Maybe...but there will be more of us…"
"So I'll crush them too," the female shot back and descended onto the rooftop to apprehend the injured fugitive.
Trent, knowing he could not escape but unwilling to let himself be taken, got to his feet and stumbled forward a few steps, but was ultimately unable to keep himself off his knees.
Heather apprehended him from behind and turned him around, grasping him by the throat and lifting his entire body off the rooftop. Her eyes glowed red and her expression of contempt and annoyance made it clear she would show no mercy.
Trent couldn't help but chuckle as she continued to gradually cut off his air supply; Heather's hand began to glow red and Trent gnashed his teeth as the smell of charred skin and roasted flesh penetrated the cold night air.
Just before he faded into unconsciousness, or maybe even death, she threw him into a puddle on the middle of the rooftop and she once again began to hover above him.
"Since I have to ask you about the location of the High Emperor's property, I will. But only once. So, will you tell me where the transporter is, or do I get to have fun?"
Trent coughed out a mix of blood and muscle tissue, along with a dose of phlegm and spittle, and struggled to inhale with his mouth before answering, "You'd...'have fun' with me...either way...so you can tell McLain...to go to hell!"
Within the blink of an eye Trent threw out a small device from his back pocket onto the rooftop and a supersonic ringing assaulted Heather's ears before she could react. Her hands clenched the side of her head and she dropped to her knees, screaming while Trent used the last of his stamina to lunge forward with a knife in his hand.
She saw it coming and was able to force herself to roll to the side and towards the device, making a move to crush it as Trent followed her movements as best he could. Her foot crushed it with a red glow and an insane amount of malice imbued passion just before Trent's blade reached her.
Heather shot a red blast from her hand that rocketed straight through Trent's chest, leaving a gaping hole of black skin where portions of many of his vital organs once were, and he fell onto his chest at once. The knife fell right beside Heather's foot and she melted it with another red beam, torturing and teasing Trent with every passing second as the smell of blazing energy filled the air around him.
"Too bad," Heather feigned dismay, "I was hoping to make it last longer, but you're about to pass out now. Oh well...at least we both know you won't be coming back. So much for saving the timeline, huh guitar-boy?"
Trent wished he could shed a tear or let his body flow into a sorrow inducing muscle spasm, but he was too near death for such things. He had failed, his entire generation had failed. There was still hope...but they had let down the world, peoples and cultures from the beginning of time, to the end of it. They were unable to stop Chris McClain's plot and he was the last of them to reach the threshold of death.
'I'm sorry everyone...Geoff...DJ...Mike...I'm so...sorry...I'm so sorry...everybody...'
Heather smirked as Trent died before her; the rainwater came down even harder now and the clouds rumbled with thunder and lightning above her as she looked out into the city of Wawanakwa.
Somewhere out there, in that great expanse, was a piece of stolen equipment that sure to bring another "generation" of "heroes" to her time. She and the others would hunt them down, capture and kill them, and stop this threat once and for all...sooner or later...it was all just a big matter of time.
….
The dark alley's calm was broken by the shattering lights and sounds of gunfire and many police sirens. The getaway car was only down the block and the loot was in his hand. Duncan was going to make it this time. No more prison, no more screw ups. He was in the big leagues now; he couldn't afford to fail.
One of the policemen fired a shot that grazed his suit and tore at the fabric, but he ran on. The people living nearby began to wake and turn on the lights, hastening his legs and spurning him forward while the law enforcement officers released the dogs on him.
He spun his upper body around and pulled the trigger several times but he doubted he was able to hit any of the officers or dogs. A police car nearly crashed into the building to his right in order to block his exit way several meters down the alley; he was able to dart to the right and jump over a wooden fence, giving him another chance and setting him on a cop-free course.
Given the rare moment of relief, he took the opportunity to speed himself up and take a less direct route to the car where his boss's men were waiting for him. If Mr. Maroni found him in jail, it would be his end for sure.
He had one last corner to turn and then he would be on the same street as the car. The cops were still trying to catch up. He did it.
His heart soared for a minute, and then he tripped over a metal trash can on the turn and rolled out into the middle of the street right as a duo of policemen rounded the corner behind the one he had just taken.
"Duncan Drake," one of them shouted, "Stop immediately!"
Duncan responded by scrambling to his feet and firing his gun at them as the getaway car turned on its lights and sped up towards him.
The door swung open and he was one leap away from making it inside with the bag of jewels, but then he felt a surreal and painful feeling in his legs, causing him to fall flat on his face.
Of all the times to have something go wrong, now was the worst, and he knew it, so he ignored the pain as best he could, even as it was racing up through his arms and chest, and right as his hands began to pull him inside he heard the gunshot that was dead on and he felt it go through his chest…
….
"Help! Fire!" The cries of frantic panic rang out across the beach and penetrated even into the waters of the ocean.
Bridgette sped up her pace as the figures above the water became more and more defined and detailed. "Fire" was an understatement; it was more of a flaming inferno, and she was the only one who could stop it.
She breached the water's surface and leaped up onto the burning dock in Malibu. With her trident, she conjured a plume of water which she hurled at the blaze, but it was only a small start of a very big and arduous job.
"Everyone get away!" She called as some of the beach-goers stopped to watch her work.
The fire seemed to have started at a hamburger shack or some other kind of food stand, but it quickly spread to most of the nearby shopping stands, and of course because the entire structure was made of wood, it was now raging out of control.
She continued to make plumes and waves to put out the devouring flames, but it was a slow progression and she could hear sirens in the background with the calls of police officers and Malibu sheriffs. Then an idea struck her.
Bridgette knew that some damage was inevitable, so instead of doing what she could to douse the flames as they were, she jumped up and landed at the edge of the blazing storm of fire and used her trident to cut the dock in two. It was a good start, but to make sure the fire couldn't spread anymore she dove back into the water to cut down the support beams on the burning section.
It took her less than a minute and the flaming mess that was once called a dock was now sinking into the water, leaving the un-charred portions of the pier safe enough for the time being.
The sheriffs began to open fire on three masked figures who were retreating into the beach town, doing their best to blend in with the mass of civilians and escape the law.
She swam to the shore to begin the chase, passing by a small child and her mother as she ran forward.
"Thank you for saving us!" The mother called as she and her daughter watched Bridgette, or as she was otherwise known as, Sea Siren, going off to help others in need.
Sea Siren, however, didn't get very far before a shooting pain began in her legs and shot up to her hips, then into her abdomen and arms until she was in complete agony, and then, she felt as though she had ceased to exist.
….
Agent A was led down the hall and into a small, homely office that smelt of files and paperwork. Behind the large, mahogany desk sat an elderly lady and standing beside her was an equally aged man; both had snow white hair and more than a few wrinkles, but their spirits seemed as young and cheery as his own.
"I really must thank you again, Agent A, for pulling through on the behalf of all free countries in the world."
"It was nothing," the Latino secret agent replied with a suave smile, "I was glad to be of help to those in need."
"Well our thanks isn't the only reward you'll be receiving," the older, white man assured him.
"Yes, we've put a bountiful sum of money into your account and you've more rewards on the way," the old lady assured him.
"Gracias, my friends, it is always a pleasure to have your blessings on my work."
"It isn't as though you haven't earned it, my friend," the man thanked as he moved to shake Agent A's hand, "and I think a bottle of 1947 scotch might better show you just how thankful we are!"
"Oh, please, that is just too kind!" The agent feigned; the elderly couple swallowed it readily.
"We insist, just stay right here and we'll bring it back in a moment," The lady told him as the two went into a back room and shut the doors, concealing their actions and the room's treasures from Alejandro's keen eyes.
The old ones were sappy and over joyous, but they could be tolerated, especially when what benefited them also benefited Alejandro. He helped himself to examining the pricier decorations and trophies that sat on the table and on the shelves behind the desk.
Much of it held only sentimental value to the old couple, but there were also some very expensive and rare items to be had. It wouldn't have been difficult to simply take them and leave the couple confused, but Alejandro didn't work so shamelessly; he was a master of his trade, and he was, by nature, a jack of all trades.
He could woo them into bestowing him an object of great value, or he could outright ask to buy it. Really, though, he wanted a challenge. Fighting off enemy nations as a spy was fine and well, but most of that work was physical and mental prowess at work. His social skills were really being wasted.
He decided upon the object he would seize and began to move over to the door to check on the couple, but before he made it there a gripping spasm erupted in his legs, and he could almost feel himself melt inch by inch as the world around him went white.
….
All Duncan could hear and see and feel was a blinding and numbing white light that completely consumed him. The getaway car had vanished, as had the loot and the sounds of the pursuing law enforcement. He wondered if he was dead, but he decided he wasn't when his body began to hurt once more as a deep ache set in all across him.
"What's….going on!?" He yelled through the agonizing experience, but he never expected an answer.
"Who is that? Who's there?" A female voice called out, seemingly in just as much suffering as Duncan was in, if that was possible.
Duncan wasn't sure if he should respond or not, or even if he could respond. The only thing going on in his mind was the same, intense thought. 'Make it stop! Make it stop! Make it stop!'
To his surprise and immense relief, the pain did begin to subside and the brightness that pained him began to fade into a soft shadow. He could at last see his own arms again and he could feel through a hazy tingling sensation, that his body seemed to be physically okay. Somehow the bullet hadn't injured him.
The world around him was fuzzy and bleak, but shapes were beginning to better form and colors began to bleed into existence and fill the morphing shapes.
When he was finally fully conscious again and in control of a pain-free body, he immediately froze in place. He was laying in some alien, cold plane of existence. He seemed to be in some kind of large dome that was trapping him inside. Was this a bad joke? Did he actually die after all?
It was then that he realized he was not alone. Beside him there were many other who appeared to be recovering from symptoms similar to those he had just endured. The first to awaken fully was the owner of the female voice, as he found out when she promptly asked him, "Where am I? Who are you?"
"Hey, I don't have anything to do with this, doll. I have no idea what's going on."
Somehow saying that made Duncan feel a lot better about himself. He knew nothing whatsoever about this woman, but here they both were, in a strange environment with no idea how they got there.
It was the kind of bond Duncan was familiar with. In the underworld, it doesn't matter, sometimes, who you are or what you've done, so long as you're running from the law you have allies in certain places. Granted, that rule didn't easily apply to everyone, after all, who would intentionally want a mass murderer as an ally, except for perhaps another mass murderer? There were definitely times of worry in that kind of "forced" bond, but they didn't occur too often.
Besides, this wasn't one of those times of unease or tension; they were in the same boat and they were, as far as he could tell, equally innocent...or guilty. Either way, there was at least one thing about this scenario that Duncan knew, and that was enough to improve his spirits.
Besides, she was a cute doll. Her attire was one of the most bizarre things he'd ever seen, but the tight aqua attire that fit her as some sort of strange outfit certainly made her seem attractive. He usually wasn't one for blondes, but she pulled it off well.
"What about these people, do you know them?" She asked, oddly bravely, and in a noticeably different tone than before.
"No clue who these people are, sorry."
There were, in total, eleven people who suffered from the odd pains and the confusing side effects that stemmed from them.
Not counting Duncan and the blonde haired girl, there was a Latino man in a formal suit who called himself Alejandro, albeit the style of his apparel was a bit off from what Duncan would expect. Beside him, a pale woman in a black corset (at least he thought it was a corset) and a feminine but ghastly black cape. Her hair was an odd blue color. Strangely, she was more attractive than the blonde haired girl. She only mentioned that her name was Gwen, and her tone was a bit sourer than Duncan expected.
Another woman wore a red shirt and brown pants, but where exactly this red headed girl came from he hadn't the slightest clue. Zoey was her name. Sam introduced himself as an overweight young man who fiddled around with strange things Duncan had never seen before, nor did he have any clue as to what they did, how they were made, or where they came from. Harold rubbed Duncan the wrong way, but claimed himself a ninja warrior. Well, skinny and frail as he looked, he had an air of genuinity about him. Duncan still didn't like him. Not one bit.
Jasmine was supposed to be a great hunter, and she at least looked the part of her "profession". Duncan would have believed her if she told him she had just come from the plains of Africa. The most notable quality with her was her unmistakable height; she towered over everyone else there.
Shawn was an averagely built guy, seemed capable enough. Claimed to be a survivor of some apocalyptic event. What a pack of freaks. Leonard really got to Duncan, proclaiming himself a wizard and a great warrior. He might actually be worse than Harold. He'd believe it when he saw it.
But the absolutely shocking individual was the final stranger, a young woman who introduced herself as Courtney. She was easily the most attractive among the bunch, and she said she was involved in politics for her profession. Duncan refused to believe it, but she seemed like a political type alright. Her body was fine and appealing, but her attitude was equally disgusting and repulsive to him.
"So, now that we've gotten along to introducing each other, what are we gonna do about the whole 'not knowing where we are and why we're here' deal?" Jasmine questioned in a thick accent.
"If we can find something to plug my laptop into I can find out in seconds!" Sam bragged.
"You can do what you want...I'm leaving," Gwen announced and began to walk off without waiting for a response.
"Now hold on just a minute," Jasmine called out, but it was clear Gwen didn't care for her words.
"I'm actually with the ghostly-girl," Shawn commented as he took a step back, "where I come from, it's every man for himself. I don't know any of you nearly enough to trust you."
"There's still the problem of actually finding a way out, though." Zoey pointed out, "I think we'd have a better chance if we worked together to figure it out."
Shawn seemed to consider the point, but Gwen did nothing more than stop walking away. She appeared to be examining the layout of the place, yet she still didn't seem to acknowledge the others.
"I won't stand for this. I demand an explanation," Courtney declared in a slightly agitated way, which only served to irk Duncan, who quickly responded to her comment.
"A bit hard to do when we don't even know who brought us here or why, isn't it?"
"Well for your information the world has become a bit more civilized than it was in the Jazz Age, in case you didn't know."
"What kind of trash are you talking now?" Duncan asked, and looked towards the others for some kind of help, though they largely seemed to be ignoring them.
"If only I had the saliva of wild boar to mix with the enchanted stone of the white castle-then I'd be able to get us out of here without a problem," Leonard told the others regretfully.
"I think it's pretty clear. The only thing to do now is search every inch of the place until we find an exit," Harold announced as he began to poke around the wall for a secret switch.
"I guess that's better than doing nothing," Sam concurred and followed Harold's example.
Any possible sense of unity, aside from the common threat of being trapped somewhere unknown against their collective will, was lost. They grouped up and focused on something in particular or, as was seemingly the case for Gwen at least, appeared to have fallen into despair and given up.
Nothing about the room had changed since they all awoke, and nothing about them could possible be similar aside from this odd experience. It was more than little depressing, really.
"Well we can't just stand around forever!" Courtney finally exclaimed, and in a coincidental moment, a hidden door opened in the opposite end of the room, and out stepped a woman in a red skirt and top came out.
"I'm sorry for making you all wait," she greeted with an awkward air about her.
"About time," Duncan huffed and approached with everyone else.
"Are you the one keeping us here? The one who abducted us?" Courtney demanded, "I want to see my lawyer!"
"Uh, no! No! I actually just got here too, for reals!" The woman in red defended.
"So who are you then?" Zoey inquired.
"I'm Samey-Sammy! You can call me Sammy."
"So why is it that you got to come in of your own free will?" Gwen questioned, eyebrow raised.
"Well I'm really not the one who brought you all here, honest."
"Okay, but then why did we have to endure all that?" Bridgette, still dressed as Sea Siren, asked.
"You might want to prepare yourselves for this," Sammy warned, and continued on, slowly becoming more confident and sure of herself, "You were all pulled from different times, so you could come here and fight against the High Emperor and save the world, because the people who have already tried have failed."
A pause ensued and none of the strangers were quite sure how to process that story. And yet, the more some of them thought about it, the more it began to seem possible. Not necessarily plausible, but possible.
Courtney began to look around at some of the other strangers in the room, 'Leonard looks like he came straight from King Arthur's Court...I mean would it have killed him to fix up how he looks a little? But then...Bridgette looks like she's from another time, or at least another world where...that...passes as a suitable outfit. And where to start on Mr. Thug over there?'
"I don't suppose you could run through that again for us?" Zoey asked in a slow and gentle appeal.
"Well, this is the year 2200, and you've been pulled from different times because you all have some connection to 'High Emperor' McLain; he used his money and power to take control of 2200, but things are so advanced that he was able to gain influence over other times too. If we don't stop him, well...no one can be sure what might happen to the world."
Once more the strangers stared her down, and while most of them had ruled out the possibility of this being a sick joke, quite a few were wondering if Sammy was, to be gentle, some kind of crazed fruit loop.
"So...we travelled in time to stop a threat from destroying all of space and time?" Sam asked with a special kind of innocence laced in his voice.
"Well...yeah, that's about it," Sammy confirmed.
"Awesome!" He replied, raising his arms above his head and going into a small daydream while the others continued to take it all in.
"Even if we believe all of this, where do you fit in? If you didn't take us here, why are you here?" Gwen asked, still suspicious, though she seemed to be doubting the story less than most of them were.
"Well, I kind of...sort of...used to work for High Emperor McLain-but then I quit and found the last group of time travelers who came to stop him. I've only been working against him for a little while though…"
"And let me guess what happened to the last group," Duncan interrupted when Sammy paused, "they're dead now, right?"
Sammy nodded rather than speak up and waited patiently for the time travelers to get acquainted to the scenario.
"Well," Harold spoke up after another short pause, "I only have one question: What connection do we have to Emperor McLain?"
"I honestly don't know that either, but when you were pulled here you were all chosen for a reason," Sammy explained, "You all come from different time periods and have different skills, don't you? It was the same with the last group."
"OK, OK, sure, but who exactly brought us here then if not you?" Jasmine questioned; a look of stress and confusion had begun to set on her face.
"When this concept of taking people with connections to Emperor McLain first began it was organized in secret by another agent of the Empire who defected. Her name was Blaineley, but she disappeared before I defected; I don't think anyone still alive knows what happened to her."
"That's all well and good," Courtney replied, "but you haven't answered the question."
"Sorry. Before you guys showed up today the only resistance members were me and the person who controls the time traveling device; I don't even know his, or her, real name or where he or she is. I get contacted and do as I'm told."
At that moment a digitized voice broke through the room, "Yes, it brings back a nostalgic feeling, doesn't it Samey?"
"Hey, I have a question," Duncan broke in, "What if we don't want to help fight the big bad Emperor?"
"I'm afraid I cannot send you back until you give this task your all," the digitized voice answered, "it is in your best interest after all, and if I sent you back, I'd have to put you right back where you were...would you prefer getting shot in the back today, Duncan?"
The mobster glowered and mumbled something and they took turns asking the enigmatic voice different questions they still had.
Upon confirming that they were from different eras in time and getting them acquainted with the base they realized they were in the voice parted with a final message.
"Samey, you have the tape, don't you? Play it for them. I'll contact you all again tomorrow. We're running out of time, but you should all get used to this new adventure, seeing as you're all stuck in it."
Sammy showed them the taped message and a holographic image of a young man in a green shirt and black pants.
"I'm making this message because I'm alone now. Last night Geoff and Owen were captured and taken somewhere hidden...they're probably already dead. The only thing I can do now is go on by myself...not that I'll last too long now. I guess we can always bring in a new pack of time travelers.
Huh. Its funny to think we were taken from our times...what has it been...six or seven months ago? Yeah...it's been a wild adventure. I'm glad I was able to do my part, and that I can still do it, but...I'm pretty sure no one's betting on me winning this war...or even surviving. I guess that's how the song plays right? We all have to go sometime…
Well, if the next 'generation' is seeing this, then I want you guys to know that this is pretty serious and I hope you all decide to make this your biggest priority. I don't think any of you asked for this, but I'd like to believe you'll all do it anyways. I mean, the fate of human existence is in the balance, right?
So...a misfit team with people from all across time goes up against a technologically advanced empire that controls the world. Doesn't seem fair, I know, but I honestly wouldn't have it any other way, not at this point. I met a lot of great people here, and I'm proud to have known them before they were taken captive or killed in the field. It might all come to you guys. It's a lot of pressure I know, trust me, I know...but if you don't, then I'm not sure anyone can.
So, good luck to you guys and if you're seeing this...it probably means I'm dead or dying...here's to hoping you don't end up the same way. Trent signing off."
Sammy noted as it stopped playing that Trent was killed in a battle the previous evening.
"This is crazy...I can't believe I'm believing all this," Courtney told herself.
"Never really thought of myself as the good guy...still, I guess it beats going to prison, or worse, facing down Maroni's men," Duncan admitted with a sigh.
"We get weapons and upgrades and stuff, right, I mean we don't have to rely only on our physical skills, do we?" Sam questioned, and once again entered a state of bliss when Sammy affirmed his notion.
"Well, no matter what time you're from you're all probably really tired," Sammy told them, "so I'll show you the rooms in a minute."
With that she left them to do as they pleased for the time being while she tried to slip into a back room, but was stopped by Alejandro before she could get in.
"Senorita, can you spare a moment?"
"You need me?" Sammy asked, almost in surprise.
"I think we all need you," Alejandro replied with a smile.
Sammy felt her cheeks warm up and stuttered out her response, "Oh...well...well thank you…"
"If I may ask, you insisted your name was Sammy, and yet the voice called you something different...what was it again?"
"Oh, you mean Samey?" She answered with a head hung low.
"That's the one! Does it bother you?"
"Well...my sister used to call me that all the time because I'm the 'spare Amy' and I'm never 'as good' as she is…"
"If you ask me, it connotes a sort of mystic beauty; I like that name a lot...do you mind if I call you Samey?"
The warm feeling that had vanished for a moment had returned and Sammy was sure she was blushing.
"O-Oh...well...I guess that's okay…"
"Great," Alejandro replied, "I'm a spy in my own timeline, working for the...betterment of the world. This is all so natural to me, but I never get to work with such a pretty, and may I say, intelligent woman. I'm very much looking forward to fighting the Emperor with you...Samey."
"T-Thank...you…" was all Samey could get out as Alejandro let her return to what she was doing, a grin on his face.
Lives had been uprooted for the sake of a common goal, but even in dire times, some priorities remain the same.
So? Was it good? Leave a comment and let me know!I'm not sure when I'll next update, and I'm a pretty busy person, but the more love this gets the more motivated I'll be to keep working on it, so it's not just on me, people! :) Hope you enjoyed and will tune in for part 2 when I get it in!