Author's Note: The rights and reservations of the Total Drama series are primarily owned by Teletoon and Fresh TV, as are the characters of Chris McLean and Chef Hatchet. The twenty-two new contestants and the location are entirely original, and any comparisons to real-life people are coincidental.
The following is a spin-off of Janey1097's TDI, Season 2! While prior knowledge is not necessary, it may help you to give it a scan for some backstory (I must agree with the author that it has not aged as well as her other stories, though it still beats about eighty-five percent of what else you'll find here).
The camera opened to a shot that would make most wince in disgust. A gigantic junkyard stood in the middle of a metropolitan area, towers of garbage on each side. Tires, old computers, and VCRs were scattered on the ground, patrolled by ferocious-looking guard dogs. Oddly enough, a pair of rickety shacks also stood in the midst, though they appeared to be in just as bad a shape as the other contents of the junkyard.
Of course, the object in the junkyard that would make the viewing audience wince the most would be Chris McLean, who quickly flashed his infamous grin.
"You're looking at one of the most disgusting, trash-filled junk heaps in all of Canada, where few would dare to enter, and nobody would ever want to live. Of course, that's the exact reason why we've chosen it for the next location of the Total Drama series!
"We've got twenty-one... excuse me, twenty-two new competitors for this season, each of them ready to get at each other's throats for the sake of our grand prize; a hundred grand, cash, tax-free. But it's not gonna be easy; they'll have to survive dangerous challenges, dangerous meals, and the biggest danger of them all - each other - if they want to stand a chance here.
"But now, it's time to see who'll be competing, and get this latest season underway. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome... to Total!
"Drama!
"Junkyard!"
During the conveniently-placed theme song montage, Chris had relocated himself to the front of the junkyard. Surprisingly, the weather was rather nice for the occasion, with a good amount of sunshine and a slight breeze. A few miles over stood a large black cloud over Camp Wawanakwa, much to both the surprise and the glee of the host.
"Welcome back to Total Drama Junkyard. Our twenty-two competitors will be showing up via limousine, so if they're having a tough time with the transition to their new home, we're doing our job right. Speaking of which, here comes our first worker!"
The limousine's door opened to reveal an excited-looking young man with a buzzcut. His eager brown eyes darted around the junkyard's entrance, which coupled with his near-manic grin made Chris more than a little uncomfortable. The boy wore a striped red t-shirt, a pair of shorts, and a pair of tennis shoes.
"Oh... goodnesh... gracioush," the young man said, his verbal tic in full swing. "It'sh really you! Chrishtopher McLean... it'sh an honor and privilege to be able to shee you in pershon like thish!"
"Welcome aboard, Howie," the host greeted. "Make yourself comfortable around here, but no peeking before the others."
Howie did not move.
"Um... you doin' okay, dude?"
"I'm shorry, it'sh jusht... I've never been sho ecshited!" Howie exclaimed. "Do you realizhe that I've been doing intenshive reshearch on thish show for yearsh now, and I'm finally going to take part in an official sheashon?"
"Living the dream, aren't we," Chris muttered, trying to push the young man to the side.
As Chef Hatchet was called to pry away Howie from the host's personal space, the second limousine arrived, dropping off a large capsule-like object with a metallic surface. A small glass window was near what was technically the front of the machine, where a furious-looking woman's face was exposed. Her eyes were extremely narrow, though a faint trace of red emerged when the sun's rays caught it just right. A blue wool hat covered a majority of her hair, save for a few white locks that went down the sides.
"Everything fine, Lorelei?" Chris asked the machine.
"Didn't ask you," she grumbled, her voice echoing through the machine.
Lorelei pressed an unseen button, and a small set of wheels popped out from the bottom, letting her navigate to where Howie was moved.
"A pleasure to make your acquaintanche," Howie said with a wave.
"Don't talk to me," Lorelei grumbled in return.
Surprisingly, no limousine came, but the third worker simply approached the host from the sidewalk, holding herself up with a large stick. Her dirty-blonde hair sat atop her head in no particular fashion, giving her a slightly boyish look to match her tired-looking brown eyes. Her outfit, if you could call it that, was nothing more than an oversized brown tunic and a pair of brown work boots.
"Looks like you're in the running for most surprising entrance, Sheba," Chris said. "Why wouldn't you take the limousine ride?"
"Eh. I never really trusted those things, if you can believe it," Sheba said with a half-smile. "These legs have gotten me around for so long, it'd be a sin to just rely on something else to do the deed, no matter how short."
Chris gave a kind-hearted laugh, a rare sight from the host. "Guess that means you'll be more than ready for whatever we've got to hand you, then."
Sheba nodded as she paced her way to Lorelei's side, holding the stick with both hands.
"Nice machine," Sheba commented.
"You don't mean that," Lorelei mumbled. "You're just trying to get on my good side. Well, here's a free piece of advice; I don't have a good side. Now leave me alone."
Sheba raised an eyebrow. "Being a hardass won't win you many friends, you know."
Lorelei scoffed. "If I wanted friends, I'd have joined a different show. I'm here for the money, kid, and you know just as well that you are, too. Now, again, leave me alone."
The stick-wielder shook her head, but complied to Lorelei's demands.
Another limousine approached, and out stepped not one but three young men, who seemed to be related. The two smaller brothers were chatting idly, one in a red suit with a goatee, the other in a green suit with some stubble. Both of them had a strange slick to their hair, as if they had put grease in it to make it stick.
The third brother was quieter, but also much taller. His suit was a bright yellow, though unlike the brothers, he did not have a beard of any sort, instead settling on a modest mustache. His hair was also more unkempt, most likely because he didn't use any grease. All three of the brothers had quick hazel eyes, though the red-suited one's eyebrows were lowered, the green-suited somewhat sympathetic, and the yellow-suited relatively unemotional.
"The Verano brothers in the flesh! Ron, Reg, Franky, how are you doing?" Chris greeted.
"Hey, let me tell you, you might wanna just call the contest off right now, because the boys and me are gonna give 'em a licking they won't forget anytime soon," Ron, the one in red, said. "Ain't that right, boys?"
"Sure thing, boss! We'll knock 'em down a peg!" Reg, the one in green, replied.
Franky did not respond.
"Um... please excuse my little brother here. He's a bit new," Ron apologized to the host before turning his head up. "Oi, Franky! Show some respect when your boss is speaking! You're as yellow as that suit of yers!"
Franky blinked a few times. "What? Oh, right. Sure thing, boss. Teamwork and all that," the youngest brother said half-heartedly.
"Reg, somethin' tells me we need to give Franky a bit of a lesson later today, get the hint?" Ron asked his same-sized sibling.
"Yeah, I got ya, boss," Reg replied. "Um... but are we allowed to give him a lesson on public television?"
"I'm still here, you know," Franky said, tapping his foot impatiently. "The least you could do is wait until I'm gone before you start talking about how much you're going to beat me up."
Ron's face turned red. "Franky. You listen, and you listen good. I know you're new to the family, but never, under any circumstances, address your boss without respect. You understand?"
Franky sighed, but gave a slight nod.
"Good. Now then, let's find us a place to wait for the other suckers to come in," Ron said, waddling over near Howie. Reg and Franky followed suit, one much more enthusiastic than the other.
As the brothers left, the next limousine arrived, carrying a young woman with a comically large chef's hat on her head, making her leave from the vehicle a bit awkward. The young woman was clearly flustered, her hazel eyes blinking rapidly and sweat pouring down her head, dodging her brunette bangs. She wore a maroon sweatshirt with a large white apron over it, which also covered a majority of her blue jeans and tennis shoes.
"Nice to have you hear, Sammy," Chris said with a nod. "I take it you are aware of your recent update to your contract, right?"
"Update?" Sammy asked. "What update?"
"Well, the thing is, the higher-ups are a little worried that just being a good chef isn't enough to make you work well with the viewers, so we struck a deal. You've got to say at least one food-related pun a day, otherwise... you're out of here."
Sammy's eyebrows skyrocketed. "What? Food isn't a joke to me, Chris, it's my life. I'm not going to just garnish... I mean, tarnish it just for the sake of some prize money!"
Chris grinned.
"...Please don't tell me that counted."
"It sure did!"
Sammy slapped her face as she went over near Sheba, though she took a double-take as she passed Lorelei.
"Um," she began.
"Trust me, you don't want to ask," Sheba responded. "Something tells me it'll be easier to not know in this case."
"I'll take your word for it," Sammy said, casting another glance at the machine.
Meanwhile, another limousine dropped off another female contestant with an exceptionally curvy figure, much to the excitement of a few of the boys who had arrived. Her hair was brunette, shoulder-length, barely touching the dark-blue windbreaker she had on. She also wore a white tube top that surprisingly didn't show any cleavage, a pair of modest shorts, and a pair of dark brown sandals.
"Aren't you familiar with the phrase 'flaunt 'em if you've got 'em', Topaz?" Chris asked.
"All too well," Topaz responded as she rolled her eyes. "So I have big boobs, great. It doesn't mean I need to draw attention to them all the time."
"Even though you just did?"
Topaz responded with a quick slap to the face as she walked away, fuming.
"If it makes you feel any better, he tricked me as well," Sammy commented, though Topaz didn't seem to notice.
Again, a limousine came by, though voices could be heard even within.
"Well, this ought to be interesting," Sheba mumbled, adjusting her grip on her stick.
"-and now you know just how serious I'll be. Bark like the bitch that you are, bitch!" a sharp woman's voice yelled.
The unmistakable sound of a whipcrack sent shock waves through the air as a howl of pain echoed from the limousine's interior.
"That's better. Now drive off back to your pathetic home, you sniveling worm! I never want to see your sorry face again!"
With that, the mysterious woman exited the car. A beehive of red hair sat on her head as her black eyes looked over the rest of the members. Her outfit was completely made of black leather, even including a pair of gloves; only her face remained uncovered. In her right hand she held what the other contestants predicted; an extremely large bullwhip.
"Lucy," Chris remarked with a finger-point. "Great to have you he-"
The host could not finish his sentence, as he was interrupted by a crack to the face.
"Who said that you could call me by my name, you miserable cockroach?" Lucy sneered, a frightening grin spreading across her face. "You'll be able to call me that when and only when I tell you; otherwise, you're going to call me master, and I'm going to call you my bitch!"
A chorus of "ooohs" resonated from the other contestants (save, of course, for Lorelei).
"Do not speak unless spoken to!" Lucy shouted, cracking her whip once again. "I'll have you learn respect the hard way, you slugs. Make a mistake, and you'll be joining that mangy mutt as another bitch. Understand?"
Nods.
"Better."
With that, Lucy whipped Chris once again.
"Get up, you putrid slimeball. I'm feeling generous, so you're off the hook this time."
Chris dusted himself off as he got up, his eyes wide with fright.
"Duly noted," he whispered when she was out of reach. Lucy raised one of her thick eyebrows momentarily, though kept walking afterwards.
Fortunately, another limousine arrived to reduce the elephant in the room. A sharp-dressed young man stepped out, wearing a top coat with a white long-sleeved undershirt, matching slacks and shoes, and a stylish top hat. A pair of circular sunglasses covered his eyes.
"Nice to have you here, Louis," Chris said, grateful that he was guaranteed to not be whipped twice in one hour.
Louis nodded, before reaching back into the limousine to pull out a somewhat faded saxophone. He played a few practice notes on it before removing the mouthpiece for a spit-shine.
"Looksh like a mushician," Howie commented.
"No doubt. He's quiet, though; probably likes to communicate through song more than anything," Topaz added. "I guess he's a jazzman, from the looks of it."
Topaz's guess was confirmed as a soulful melody burst from Louis' saxophone.
The song continued to play as the halfway point was reached. Out from the next limousine stepped a young woman with a fairly athletic build, though she was far from being as busty as the likes of Topaz. Her raven-colored hair was tied in a loose ponytail, though a good amount of it also spread across the rest of her scalp. Her brown eyes had a sort of cheerfulness to them, matched well by her wry smile. She wore an off-white sweatshirt, a pair of black exercise shorts, and a modest pair of running shoes.
"Foxglove St. Claire, ready and willing," the girl said with a wave. "Hope you guys are ready to play some hardball, 'cause I'm not holding back!"
"Oooh, I like this one," Sheba said, unable to hold back a wide smile of her own.
"You're not bad yourself," Foxglove commented as she jogged towards the smaller girl. "A bit of a tomboy, are you?"
"Well... let's just say I'm quite used to playing with the big boys," Sheba responded, looking a bit less excited. "It's a long story, and to be frank, I don't think I'll be able to tell it when she's around here," she finished, jerking a thumb towards Lucy.
"Well, enemy of my enemy and all that. Here's hoping we're on the same team," Foxglove said with a thumbs-up.
"Knowing Chris, something tells me you've just jinxed it," Sheba replied, looking back at the front of the junkyard. Foxglove cupped her chin in suspicion, unsure of if her new friend was joking or not.
As Louis' tune died out, the next limousine arrived, and a bored-looking young woman stepped out. Her eyes were a dull blue, showing no emotion whatsoever. Her blonde hair was parted to the sides of her head, only being adjusted when it got stuck in the young woman's face. Even her outfit was unexciting; a solid black t-shirt, a pair of brown jeans, and two bland sandals.
"Welcome to the competition, Meredith," Chris said, back in his role of greeter. "How was the trip?"
Meredith blinked.
"...You okay, dude?"
"Yes, I'm okay," Meredith responded, her voice as monotonous as the rest of her. "I was simply ignoring the question so as to avoid giving away anything. I know your tactics, Mr. McLean, and I will not fall for them. This is a reality show, and I intend to prove that, like all reality shows, there is one true way to win it."
With that, Meredith meandered over to the rest of the group, getting more than a few odd stares from the rest of the cast.
"Listen, boys, she's nothin' but bad news," Ron muttered to his brothers. "Don't give her any trust at all."
"You bet, boss!" Reg replied.
"Mmm," Franky grunted, still uninterested.
The next limousine came and went, leaving a wild-haired young man with a jovial grin and a pair of excited brown eyes. He wore a coffee-colored shirt with long sleeves, cargo shorts, and for some reason a pair of bright pink bunny slippers.
"Great to have you here, Tom," Chris greeted, offering a high-five.
"No, sir, it's great to BE here!" Tom said in reply, accepting the high-five. "It's been far too long since I've faced some real danger, and I know you're just the man who can dish it out!"
"I'm flattered, really," the host said with a slight laugh. "Finally, someone who can appreciate the hard work we put into our death traps."
"Believe me, I've tried, but you're the master of the art," Tom said, joining the rest of the competitors before stopping next to Lucy.
"A whip, eh? You just might be what I've been looking for, my friend!" the daredevil mentioned with a hearty laugh.
"Don't speak out of line, you insolent scum!" Lucy shouted, cracking the whip at Tom. The daredevil smirked, leaping out of harm's way.
"You've gotta try a little harder than that if you want to take me down!" Tom said, more joyous than insulting.
Lucy's eyebrows furrowed. "You may have escaped momentarily, but you'll soon learn to show some respect. It's not a matter of if you're a bitch... but when."
As Tom moved back in with the crowd, the fourteenth limousine came, carrying a taller boy with a long-billed white baseball cap, a large red "P" stitched onto the front of it. A smirk crossed his face as he walked forward, his blue eyes giving a mischievous vibe as his eyebrows danced around. His get-up was relatively predictable; a striped baseball jersey with the number "43" on its back, a pair of sweatshorts, and two short-spiked cleats.
"The name's Bastion. I'm sure you'll remember it for a long while," the boy said, tipping his hat to show his black hair.
"Care to explain why?" Sheba asked.
Bastion gave a sinister chuckle. "Because it'll be perfect, just like everything else I do. This is all a big game, right? Well, let me tell ya somethin'; if it's a game, I'll be the one who ends up on top, no questions asked. You might as well just drop out right now before you hurt yourselves!"
Bastion paced forward confidently, stopping to wink at Topaz, who winced in disgust.
"Is he honestly trying to flirt with you?" Foxglove said with her arms crossed. "God, what a freak."
"Couldn't say it better myself," Topaz agreed. "All I know if that his hands even get remotely close to my boobs, he won't be using them for a lot longer."
"Ha ha, nice!" Foxglove complimented with a fist-bump. "Hey, maybe you, Sheba, and I will all be on the same team! That'd be cool."
"Yeah, but you heard what she said; Chris always plans ahead, so he'll have us separated for sure. Guess we've just gotta last until the merge, huh?"
"I'm in. Sheba?" Foxglove turned to her other friend.
"Yeah, sounds good," she agreed, though her thoughts were clearly somewhere else.
Meanwhile, the latest limousine arrived, and a plain-looking young woman stepped out, making sure to close the door on the way. Her orange hair was converted into a pair of braided pigtails which bounced as she stepped forward, her green eyes half-awake as if she would fall asleep at any moment. She wore a lime-green t-shirt with an orange star on it, a plaid skirt that dropped down to her knees, and a pair of long white socks that met two brown slip-on shoes.
"Good to see you, Ellen," Chris said with a half-wave. "Anything to say to your soon-to-be rivals?"
"No, not really!" Ellen chirped, skipping off to join the crowd. Chris scratched his scalp in confusion.
"Shay... you look shurprishingly shimilar to shomebody I think I've sheen onshe..." Howie uttered as Ellen approached him.
"Oh... well, uh, if that's the case, you're probably mistaken!" the girl responded, though she appeared a bit frazzled. "I'm just a boring, ordinary girl, wanting to get some excitement out of life through some competition! That's me!"
Howie's eyebrows lowered, though his eyes were still wide. "If you shay sho. I shtill think I've sheen you, though, and if I remember, you shpill your shecretsh. Not to everybody, but at leasht to me. You can trusht me, right?"
Ellen hesitated to answer as she stared at Howie's trembling eyes.
Fortunately, she was interrupted when another limousine approached, with a young man standing on top of the hood. A pair of rectangular sunglasses rested over his eyes, though they were far from able to compliment his shaggy brown hair. He wore an open purple jacket with no undershirt, promoting a necklace with a bomb-shaped medallion. He also donned some hole-ridden jean shorts and a pair of sandals.
The young man leaped off the moving vehicle, landing semi-gracefully. He snapped his fingers, and the limousine (now a few meters off) shattered with a powerful explosion. The boy removed his sunglasses, somehow revealing an identical pair underneath, and tossed them behind.
"Way to make an entrance, Arnold!" Chris said as he clapped his hands. "Guess it's safe to say you're the bomb?"
"Heard 'em all before," Arnold responded. "Puns don't make the man. Explosions do."
"I can get behind that one!" Tom commented with a hearty laugh, his blond hair now dusted in black soot from the explosion's shock waves. "Life with you's gonna be a blast!"
"As I said, heard 'em all before," Arnold repeated, snapping his fingers again as a nearby construction site suffered a minor explosion. The pyrotechnician threw another pair of sunglasses onto what remained of the site.
"How does he DO that..." Tom whispered, awe-struck.
As the rest of the cast dusted themselves off, the next limousine left a tall, dark-skinned teenager. Her facial features - serious dark-brown eyes, a crooked nose, an emotionless mouth - were highlighted by the fact that she was entirely bald, though it helped in showing off a large pair of hoop earrings that drooped from her lobes. Also odd was her choice of attire- she wore a large, off-white robe, which she consistently adjusted. She wore no shoes.
"Looking sharp, Angela," Chris greeted. "Care to enlighten us on why you look like that?"
Angela's eyebrows twitched. "Enlightening is far from what you will be receiving. Enlightenment can only be reached through meditation, and meditation can only be perfected through balance."
She clapped her hands together, raising them above her head. "Through many years I have maintained this balance and reached a higher level of meditation, far beyond the imaginations of my ancestors. For you to reach this enlightenment in mere moments is unthinkable."
"Well, fine. Rub it in, why don't you," Chris grumbled, clearly peeved. "What makes that enlightenment so incredible, anyways?"
Angela's mouth formed the faintest trace of a grin as she sat on the ground, closing her eyes and maintaining lotus position.
Miraculously, she managed to float several feet above the ground, moving forwards to the sixteen other contestants.
"What... but..." Sammy stuttered.
"Do not worry, child," Angela replied. "What you see before you is merely an illusion created through harnessing the powers of meditation. It shall disappear soon."
"Can it be quick? I'm really unsure about talking with someone who doesn't move her mouth."
"As you wish."
With that, Angela reverted to her normal state, or at least as normal as she got.
"Feh. That ain't anything compared to what I can do," Bastion bragged before getting socked in the face by Foxglove.
As the jock tended to his bruised nose, a young man departed the latest limousine. He had a mousy look to him, with grey eyes, patches of hair that lost any real color it had, and a pair of thin, round spectacles that rested on the tip of his small nose. His loud, cyan t-shirt proudly proclaimed "WORLD'S BEST WORST" in purple, much to the confusion of the other workers; aside from that, he wore a set of hideous bermuda shorts and a mismatched pair of flip-flops.
"Isaac! Welcome to Total Drama Junkyard!" Chris said, raising his arms to indicate the (nonexistent) grandeur of the location.
Isaac stared at the site for a few minutes. "No... no, 'snot a yard. You... you said it's... it's a yard?"
"A junkyard, yeah."
Isaac's eyes twitched as he put his hands on his head; he seemed to be writhing in agony.
"No, no, yards have swings. There are no swings. Where are the swings. Swings, slides, children... not here, not a yard, not a yard!"
"Slow down there, kid," Topaz spoke. "There's a difference between a yard and a junkyard. It's perfectly normal for there to not be any swings."
Isaac's hands lowered as he gazed at Topaz.
"You... you mean it? It's... it's not a yard? Then... why did he say it was? Why did he lie? Liars are bad. Can't trust then, won't trust them..."
Topaz gave a kindhearted laugh. "Well, if you already don't trust Chris McLean, I think you're on the right track. C'mon, let's head back to the entrance so we can chat."
"I'm right here, you know..." Chris muttered, pouting his lips.
While Chris attended to his wounded ego, the next worker arrived. She was a fair-faced young woman with green eyes and a bright smile, whose dark-blonde hair waved around in the breeze revealing a small pair of orb-shaped earrings. She wore a light-grey sweatshirt, a pair of preworn jeans, and sandals, though she also wore socks to protect her feet.
"Jane!" Foxglove shouted, running forwards to hug the newcomer. "God, I'm glad you made it all right."
"I take it you two know each other?" Chris asked.
"Yeah, we're best friends," Foxglove replied. "You wanna introduce yourself, Jane?"
Jane nodded, and proceeded to move her hands and arms in an elaborate fashion.
"Hey, what is this, charades?" Bastion complained.
"It's sign language, smartass," Foxglove said with a sigh. "She says it's nice to be here... and that you, Bastion, should try to work harder on your social skills. Well put, Jane."
"Wait, how did she know what Bastion said?" Ellen spoke up.
"She's mute, not deaf," Foxglove responded. "If anything, I bet she can probably hear better than the rest of us!"
Jane rubbed the back of her head sheepishly as she proceeded to the rest of the cast. Louis gave her a thumbs-up, supportive of another silent contestant. Jane gave him one of her own in response.
Another contestant arrived, following Sheba's example by walking up instead of taking the traditional limousine. His brown eyes were bloodshot and half-open, leaving him about as messy as the curly black hair on his head. His dark skin was semi-complemented by a dusty red shirt, and an even dustier pair of black slacks. The brown shoes he wore weren't in much better shape.
"Another walker, eh, Zachary?" Chris asked semi-smugly.
"Booted out. Driver said he didn't want to ruin his ride. Of course, with him driving, it already was," Zachary muttered. A few of the other workers chuckled.
"Life hard in the streets?" Sheba spoke up.
"Looks like we've got a real contender for the coveted 'most obvious answer to the most obvious question' award," Zachary replied, not missing a beat. "Is there any other reason I would go to this hellhole other than escaping the one I'm from?"
"Cash money," Sammy said.
"Sweet, sweet victory," Bastion said, pumping his fist.
"The shenshation of following in the path of your idolsh..." Howie said dreamily.
Zachary cocked an eyebrow. "Well, from the looks of it, this'll be the easiest mint I've made yet."
As the next limousine came and went, a very shy young woman exited, her eyes widening at the sight of the twenty other contestants. Her blue eyes, covered by a thin pair of round glasses, widened at the sight, and her relatively long light-blonde hair practically stood on end. She cowered in fear, clutching her knees close to her.
"Um... my part of the deal really doesn't involve things like this," Chris spoke, looking more than a little confused. "Could someone handle this? Chef, maybe?"
"I'm not a damn nanny!" the large man called out from within the junkyard. "Do your own dirty work!"
Both men, however, ignored the person who did approach her.
"Hi. I know you must be uncomfortable, but would you mind telling me what's going on?" the person asked.
"It's... so many people. I'm not... comfortable with them... all watching me, all expecting something of me, and if I do something wrong, I'll just... I'll just...!"
"Shhh, it's okay. Look up for me, could you? Just look at me, and me alone. There's not gonna be anyone else here."
The newcomer shook slightly, and glanced up at none other than Franky, who gave her a warm smile.
"See, now it's just me. Just focus on that, and you'll be fine. All right?"
"All... all right..." the newcomer replied, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks. As she stands, her outfit is revealed; a modest yellow sundress decorated with roses, flesh-colored stockings, and a pair of simple black flats.
"My name's Franky, by the way. I'm afraid I didn't catch yours."
"It's Largo... Largo Young," she said. "It's... very nice to meet you... Franky."
Franky grinned. "Nice to meet you, too."
As they walked back to join the rest of the cast, Ron grabbed Franky's cuff and dragged him downwards.
"Look here, lover boy. I'm not sure what went through that melon of yours, but you follow the boss first, and your gut second. I don't want to see you anywhere close to that dame, and if I do, you can bet that I'll have your sorry ass off of here before she can finish a sentence," the older brother threatened. "Sound good?"
Franky shook off his brother, not bothering to answer.
"Well, looks like everybody's here, then!" Chris said, back in his best authoritative voice.
"Not likely," Meredith's monotone voice chimed in. "You've specifically stated that twenty-two contestants will compete, while you have introduced only twenty-one. Where is the last contestant?"
"That would be me," an unknown voice said from atop a junk pile.
The contestants looked up to see a lanky young man with brown hair, divided into widely-arced spikes. A pair of incredibly thick, rectangular spectacles rested on his nose, covering his hazel eyes. The boy wore a tan greatcoat over a solid black shirt, a pair of khaki pants, and two incredibly worn-out black shoes. His arms were crossed as the breeze blew his coattails around; save for his pale complexion, horrid shoes, and geeky glasses, some may have said he looked cool.
"Mine is the name that you shall learn to soon fear!" the newcomer shouted. "My presence shall turn this entire game on its head before it even begins! Look upon me, contestants, for I am-"
It was at this time, unfortunately, that the young man's grip on the pile was lost.
"Shit!" he shouted as he tumbled to the ground, landing flat on his face.
"What do you know. You are shit," Bastion snickered.
"Everyone, this is-"
"Oh my goodnesh gracioush it'sh actually you I can't believe it!" Howie said in a single breath. "You're Raphael R. Forresht, the conteshtant who wash conshistently bombarded with dodge ballsh and who placed ninth overall in an unaired sheashon of Total Drama Island!"
"That was supposed to be a surprise, Howie," Chris grumbled, still peeved that he was interrupted yet again. "But hey, can't change things now. You doin' all right, Raphael?"
"Oh, don't mind me," Raphael replied, his voice muffled by the dirty ground. "I'm simply learning about all the myriad ways there are to humiliate yourself on national television."
"International, dumbass," Lucy said before whipping the veteran.
"All right, workers, get in position; we've got a promotional picture to take!" Chris announced.
The contestants meandered over to the center of the junkyard, though Zachary stopped near where Raphael had fallen.
"Hey, between you and me, you were pretty badass up there," the slumdog mentioned.
"Really?"
"Yeah. Your performance was bad, and you looked like an ass."
"Eh. I've heard worse."
"Hey, Zack, get your butt over here! And bring Raphael with you!" the host shouted.
Zachary rolled his eyes, but offered a hand to the fallen Raphael. As the veteran grabbed it, he was not brought to his feet as he expected, but was simply dragged along as Zachary jogged to where everyone else was.
"All right, get in position... okay! Smile for the news sites!"
Chris' camera flashed, and the workers looked around in anxious anticipation for a full minute.
"Huh. Could've sworn something embarrassing would have happened to you guys by now," Chris commented. "Doesn't matter. Just follow me, workers; it's gonna be a long season!"
The Promotional Picture
Top Row
- Bastion attempts to look down Topaz's tube top as he gives a perverted grin.
- Jane sits on Foxglove's shoulders, giving a big smile and a wave to the camera.
Middle Row
- Zachary looks at the camera in complete seriousness, unaware that Topaz was giving him bunny ears.
- Topaz gives a raspberry and a wink, making bunny ears over Zachary and holding Isaac's shoulder.
- Isaac peers at Topaz with both fear and respect, though his hands are clenched together in a display of anxiousness.
- Lucy grins evilly, raising her bullwhip to the sky.
- A jovial Tom pumps a fist in the air as he gives another massive grin.
- Angela stands with her hands clasped together in a meditative pose; unsurprisingly, she manages to maneuver herself directly in the middle of the photo.
- Arnold frowns at the camera; in his hands you can barely see another pair of sunglasses.
- Foxglove balances Jane on her shoulders as she smiles to the camera.
- Ellen looks around nervously, as if someone had just confessed to a secret that she has.
- Franky rests a hand on Largo's shoulder, staring at her with a small smile.
- Lorelei's capsule stands strong. Lorelei herself still looks incredibly angry.
Bottom Row
- Raphael, his face still in the ground, gives an incredibly sarcastic thumbs-up to the camera.
- Howie gives a manic grin, his eyes especially wide.
- Sammy looks a little defeated as she tries to rub a dirt smudge off of her apron.
- Louis plays his saxophone as he sits on the ground.
- Meredith looks at the camera dead-on, her stoic look unchanged.
- Sheba supports herself with her stick as she gives a half-smile to the camera.
- Largo peers up at Franky, still blushing.
- Ron glares at his youngest brother, arms crossed in defiance.
- Reg scratches his head, slightly upset at the clash between his brothers.
Author's Note: And so it begins! If this looks familiar, it's because it's a reboot of an earlier story of mine that I wasn't at all satisfied with. Here's hoping this time things go better!
While Raphael is, admittedly, kind of the focus of the story, don't worry; every worker will have some time in the limelight, and Raphael's veteran status won't make him any more or less susceptible to the tricks of the others.
I thank you very much for reading, and urge you again to check out the works of Janey1097 if you haven't already.