(A.N.) This most definitely has not been what I've been working on for so long, this is just something for fun. (Yay, mediocrity!) I'm might be merging into a Soul Eater fic soon enough, though…

Okay, in this 'reality' Total Drama Action ended with everyone hating each other. Yup. Not everybody I guess, but for example, Duncan and Courtney stayed broken up, and...well, that's the main difference. Leshawna still hates Beth, Gwen and Trent are still apart, so and so forth.

Enjoy, read, and review, if you wish. I'd say 'if you dare', but I'd rather not scare you off.

"This…this is a disaster."

The alarming statement was said by a man with a handlebar mustache and a remarkably shiny bald head.

This man was in charge of the conference meeting going on. The folks behind Total Drama Island were gathered, to discuss the latest fiasco. Total Drama Action had ended in shambles. All of the couples remained broken up—and many friendships, too. So many angry letters had been sent in, something had to be done—or ratings would plummet faster than American Idol's.

Thanks to the room they were in, it looked as if they were plotting how to take over the world. The men and women who were present sat around a metallic table, while a single light fixture gave the room an eerie look. On one side of the room was a long, rectangular window that gave a view to some undisclosed location. (If you must know, there were buildings and trees and probably a cloud or two in the sky.)

Chris McClain was in attendance, and he leaned over to the man next to him.

"Hey," Chris whispered, in such a loud tone that he might as well have not whispered at all. "Hey, who is that guy?" He nodded towards the bald man sitting at the head of the table.

"It's the new producer," the suited man replied.

"What happened to the old one?"

"Well," replied the other, "after the season finale he was…kidnapped by rabid Duncan-and-Courtney fans. He was held hostage in…" he shuddered. "In Wisconsin."

"And?" questioned Chris.

"Last we heard he became a cheese-head. He's a Packers fan now, for God's sake!" He added, because football humor is still funny during off-season. Really. "To prevent something like that from happening again, we have to be very vague with our location, now. All we're allowed to say is that we're somewhere in Canada."

Chris frowned, looking a little wary. "Are you sure that's not just because of the author's lazine--"

"Chris McClain!" The producer shouted, standing up in a dramatic fashion.

"Oh my God it's a talking mustache!" Chris exclaimed, horrified.

The producer crossed his arms, looking mildly insulted. "Have some more respect for the producer, Mr. McClain."

"I thought," Chris complained, "you were a guy from a barbershop quartet."

"I'm the producer!" Aforementioned producer gritted out, and then added, sniveling, "that dream died long ago…"

"Can we call you something besides 'the producer'?" One worker asked. "I feel like we're starting a potential drinking game…"

"Fine," said the producer (take a shot!). "You can call me Napoleon."

"That explains so much…" Chris muttered under his breath. Napoleon appraised the men and women sitting with him, and sighed, massaging his forehead.

"If we don't find a way to get this sorted out, I'm afraid we might lose our viewers. People seem to want something light-hearted, and they think that our contestants might get bloodthirsty at the start of next season."

"They're teens," a woman chuckled, raising an eyebrow at Napoleon. "How much damage can they cause?"

"Never underestimate the strength of teenage angst," Chris warned.

"Well, there were some friendships kept at the end," someone pointed out, but another rebutted with:

"I think they're outnumbered by the rivalries."

"Well," suggested an employee, "what if we put them in a less stressful environment?" The others stared at him. After a long, awkward silence, the employee wheeled himself out of the room and far away.

"Thank God he's gone," Napoleon muttered. "OK, someone smarter, please."

"A nicer host?" A fellow named Benny suggested, leering at Chris with discontent.

"No way! That's dumb! Chris McClain is hot!" Chris said in a girly, higher voice. Dropping down to his normal voice he announced, "I agree with her."

"Chris," Benny remarked, dryly. "No one's gonna fall for--"

"I agree with the nice lady too!" Napoleon announced clasping his hands together. "Chris McClain stays!" Chris grinned, childishly pumping a fist in the air.

"Well, of course," a different worker agreed. "Chris isn't the problem, after all. It's the contestants. We have to make them respect each other more…and once they do, then it can all fall apart during the season. So there's still drama, we just aren't starting out with it again. It'll have the charm of the first season!"

"That sounds like a good idea," Napoleon mused, "but how would we do that?"

Ideas were thrown around, scattering over the room like bugs skimming over water. (Holy misplaced poetic phrase, Batman!) Only one stood out:

"Therapy!" blurted out someone from outside the room, in the hallway. "I had shock therapy, and now I'm only scarred physically, instead of mentally!"

"Did the best idea just come from our janitor?" Napoleon questioned. "Hm…maybe there's something to be learned by Good Will Hunting…"

"Hey," Chris interrupted, sticking his arm up and waving it around to get Napoleon's attention. "While you're getting a lovely Mr. Rogers' kernel of a moral, I have to ask…who's gonna be in charge of the 'therapy'?"

"Why were there quotation marks around therapy?" Benny wondered, but everyone ignored him.

"You and Chef will do," Napoleon replied, dismissively. "Some team-building exercises, some time to sit around in circles and chat…it should do some good!"

"A job like that is not in my contract!" Chris pointed out, while Karma walked up, slapped him in the face, and kindly walked away.

"Well, now it is."

"You can't change it like that though," Chris groaned, clearly not in the mood to bother with the TDI teenagers even longer. "That's against the rules."

"Screw the rules, I have money!"

Not sure how to reply, Chris again leaned over to the man he had been talking with earlier. "Did we just end this with a reference to an abridged series?"

"I…I believe so."

Chris leaned back.

"Well. I see this is off to a fantastic start."