{A/N} Howdy readers, and welcome to ALD, chapter three! Okay, my update's really late, being that I waited days upon days for more reviews, only to receive little more than the ones I got on the first day of release. It doesn't matter much to me anyway, so long as it's something. You'd be surprised at how giddy one (Me, really) gets that someone's submitted a personal opinion of a work of one's own. Anyway, in this chapter, Chris starts reverting back to his old ways with the teens in the form of a friendly challenge for a coveted certain privilege. You can't expect the man to let them run rampant without even a mild sort of torment, can you? Well, read and review as you will, please. Enjoy!
{Disclaimer} I don't claim ownership over any of the characters, names, or any other merchandise referenced in this work of fiction. I do, however, have rights to the situations I set them in, and kindly advise you to ask permission to use said situations if you so choose to.
{Summary} As a gift from the production crew of the Total Drama series to the cast, each one of the unwitting teens was shipped back to Wawanakwa for the remainder of their summer, just a few weeks before filming for Total Drama World Tour began. It's the only vacation anyone's had in the past year, what with the past two seasons of glorified, televised torture, and everyone's glad to have some time out of the limelight, as far as they know. What drama will the Total Drama teens stir up on a real vacation, more specifically, which two infamous hoodlums will discover they have much, much more in common than anyone could've thought?
A Little Dizzy
The smoldering golden sun peeked just above the darkened silhouette of the bordering pine-littered knolls, a dim haze of pink and brilliant shades of ginger and purple in its wake, illuminating the slumbering campground with the gentlest of mid-summer lights. The early morning brought with it a feeble chill as well as the glorious light of a new day, in misguiding spite of the insufferable heat the afternoon would soon deliver upon all whom were exposed to the infallible beauty and wrath of the sun. Beneath the simplistic radiance taking place in the placid blue sky, all of Camp Wawanakwa slept soundly following an extensive first night spent socializing with friends once thought lost and enjoying one's self in the company of fellow adolescents near a roaring bonfire, for the most part.
A meek stream of the light of dawn filtered in through the grimy transoms installed into the shambled wooden walls of cabin three, only slightly disturbing the sleepy setting of the unstable lodge's interior. The low hum of snoring sifted about the well-sized room, resonating rhythmically from the well built chests and only slightly disturbed throats of the dwelling's male tenants, forming a soothing sort of listless ambience for the entire cabin, easing each of them into a deeper sense of undisturbed tranquility. The lingering aroma of pine needles drifted its way into the makeshift homestead from the surrounding woodland foliage, mingling pleasingly with the musk of the sequoia-manufactured furnishings, flooring, and parapet for a delightful scent with which to stifle the horrendous stench of the communal washrooms not far from the cabin's place upon the forest limitations.
Stirring flippantly, Duncan heaved himself onto his side and tugged his large hand from the comfort of the single, woolen blanket entangled with his own, lean yet burly limbs and just over his forehead in an attempt to shield his eyes from the developing daylight invading the magnificently drowsy euphoria simply radiating from each of his slumbering cabin mates. The sluggish young felon tossed once or twice more in attempt to vanquish the coming of day and fall back into the slowly departing will of sleep. He groaned in defeat and sat up upon his bunk's mattress, scowling discontentedly at the sound of the outside woods brimming back to life with the soft, collective chirps of the early rising birds and the occasional rustling of the brush, letting on to the ground-dwelling creatures' rousing from their own pleasant slumber.
"Mm, damn it," the green haired teenager moaned lazily under his breath, slipping from the loving caress of the coverlet supplied by the Total Drama staff and falling onto his powerful arms upon the floor, pumping ably up and down on his hands as he executed a solid fifteen pushups and lifted himself onto his feet.
He'd picked up the habit back in his days spent in juvenile hall, performing a modest amount of pushups after waking. It made the typical punishment for backtalk and the odd well placed, but exposable pranks – two of his personal favorite activities – more bearable, being that that was a less than reasonable number of pushups. Eventually, he'd be able to complete fifty each morning without pausing, so he figured he'd keep the unpleasant ritual with him outside the glorified cast-iron box until his next visit to juvie, which was sure to come, judging from his arrogant, seditious and ever so rebellious tendencies.
Duncan blinked himself to mild awareness and slipped a few fingers just beneath the waistband of his boxers, scratching absentmindedly at the flesh that lay there as he kicked his duffle bag into view from its hastily stowed away place beneath his bed. He crouched deftly and unzipped the mouth of the immense shoulder bag, snatching his signature pair of baggy jean shorts and a simple black tank top, knowing that the weather would evolve to unbearably hot conditions by the time he and the others had finished breakfast. The lanky teen hoisted the garments on and smothered the bag into hiding once more, fiddling thoughtlessly with the metallic stud impaling his brow all the while.
"Up already?" the blond young woman rasped to life from the bunk above the delinquent's, tilting her slender upper body upward whilst her hips and legs lay limp under the affectionate hold of her boyfriend's muscular form beside her. "I'm surprised."
Shrugging, Duncan quirked a thick, dark brow in the forthcoming surfer's direction and busied himself with finding where he'd stashed his toothbrush from the protruding side-pocket of his duffle bag, peering out from the edge of his already rather cloth littered mattress. "Shouldn't be. They woke us 'convicts' up about this time every day back home; you just get used to stuff like that. Besides, knowing Chris, you'd be awake pretty soon anyway. Whoever gave him control of that loudspeaker needs to get shot."
Bridgette nodded with a small smile, not yet conscious enough to comprehend more of what her fairly good friend was saying. She watched through heavily hooded jade eyes as the self-proclaimed convict fought with a plastic bag for its contents – a simplistic set of toiletries – and released a reasonably amused chuckle. "I wouldn't say that, but he is pretty bad with it. I sometimes think he just likes hearing his own voice."
The kindly young beauty's gaze fell to the tranquilly dozing figure lying next to her, lengthy and marvelously toned arms draped over her waist and mid-thigh while a warm grin spread across his lips as he snored serenely. She ran a few thin yet callous fingers across his face and through his slightly matted flaxen hair, stifling a laugh at the western-style hat Geoff sported, even in sleep. She gingerly pressed her lips to his and whispered a careful morning salutation before returning her attention to Duncan, who offered an amused smirk back at her. She frowned.
"What?"
The boy snickered cockily and folded his well-developed arms over one another, one hand gripping his toothbrush loosely as the opposite held the anomalous, indecipherable brand of toothpaste to match it. "I'm sorry; did you want me to leave you two alone? Just remember you're sharing a room with three other people, honey," Duncan mused brazenly, overconfidence and the slightest of sarcasm drenching his every word, "and one of those people happens to sleep right underneath you."
"Oh, shut up, Duncan." Bridgette retorted, more exasperated than angry. "You're going to the washrooms?"
He nodded curtly and waved the items in his hands at the still rather sluggish girl in meager condescension, that same proud smirk gracing his lips. "Yeah. Then, I'm probably gonna go see if Chef's got anything edible out for breakfast. Tell DJ and Lover Boy to come meet me when they get their lazy asses up, would you, doll?"
"And Izzy?" she replied promptly, fair eyebrows rising expectantly.
Thick brows furrowing in confusion, Duncan shook his head in blatant misunderstanding. "What about her? You girls can come eat with us if you want, I guess, I don't care."
"No, I just meant – well, didn't you guys have, like, a heart to heart or something? Or, Courtney told me last night that you talked with Iz on the roof for an hour, so I figured you two were tight and I just never really noticed. I thought it made sense, you guys are both wicked kinds of crazy, but she was kind of flipping out about it. You know how she can get, though." Bridgette spoke softly, weariness still quite evident in her voice.
"Courtney told you? Shit." the infamous criminal groused from the now open doorway, a bitter breeze finding its way into the comfortable, albeit unsound, little cottage.
The tormented tinge clouding the delinquent's cold aquamarine stare concerned the spiritual young blond, but he'd lumbered his way out of the apartment before she could say anything to ease his really quite evident trouble. She winced audibly as the frail screen door hammered itself back into the splintered doorframe, successfully waking up the remaining slumbering campers still residing in the cabin. Bridgette sighed and settled her attention upon the less than cognizant teenager reclined on the mattress near her, a delighted grin meeting with her lips once more.
Less than an hour later, the inadequate living quarters offered to the campers were uninhabited for the most part, most of the residents having migrated to the mess hall for nourishment or well deserved caffeine before truly beginning their day. Many of the teens trudged about the massive, multi-purpose shack still clad in their bedclothes while the others - fortunately earlier rising - collected their nearly indistinguishable rations from the assembled buffet line in clothes most were accustomed to viewing after nearly a year's worth of time spent living in such close quarters with one another. The rickety wooden ramparts were alive with the sound of laughter and mindless chatter, each of the teens gradually ebbing into the realization that they no longer had to be troubled with the matters of weekly eliminations, alliances, or the periodic conspiracies pitting one against the other; this was all just a normal summer sleep away adventure with people both alike and, at the same time, entirely different from themselves.
The long, bulky pulpits the teenagers had once used to designate one another as a Killer Bass or Screaming Gophers still rested upon the cringing wooden floors now seated several of the vastly divergent teens though many benches remained unoccupied. The five residents of cabin three were tucked at the far end of the room at the table that had formerly been recognized as the Killer Bass', nearest Chef Hatchet's buffet lineup, and one of the very few windows set in the entire building. Duncan, DJ, and Izzy were seated on the center-facing plane of the table whilst Bridgette and Geoff sat on their opposite.
"I can't believe Courtney let you get away with chilling out together for so long," Geoff marveled as he brought a spoonful of nearly distinguishable "oatmeal" from his upward curved lips, "She seems like the seriously jealous type."
DJ took a bite from the burnished red apple – most likely some easily disregarded contraband from his home – in his massive, calloused palm and set it back down on the nearly barren expanse of his lunch tray. "I can't believe you forgot me n' Gwen out in the woods! Poor girl got tired, so I carried her back to camp, and we didn't even get here till everyone went to sleep!"
Sputtering away in all too amused laughter, Duncan delighted in the thought of bringing even the slightest of grieves to one of his best friends, and arguably the most kind and compassionate people to ever grace the twisted old summer camp's grounds. The sardonic young felon cast a steady glance past the lovable powerhouse of a man and over to the crimson locked, rather neurotic teen in question. At the moment Izzy was focusing on the sharp edges of her slightly rusted fork as it punctured the surprisingly tough exterior of the thick pile of nothing but foul sitting on her lunch tray before her, a curious yet much too wayward gleam in her shimmering emerald eyes.
It was true, what Bridgette had said earlier, as much as he'd have loved more than anyone to deny any similarity between he and the resident runaway psychopath, Duncan mused silently as his crystalline gaze fell to his own plate, where his own fork lay waste to the mostly inedible slop besmirching the otherwise spotless expanse of his tray in much the same way she was to her own. He tilted his eyes back across the table, where the undeniably friendly aforementioned surfer stumbled across that same discovery, casting a coy glance at him and parting her slightly chapped lips to formulate some sort of cocky response, he was certain.
The arrogant response never came, though her eyes bore into his own in too familiar a manner for the somewhat sheltered delinquent to tolerate. Instead, the laid-back blond toyed with a loose cerise string straying from her beloved boyfriend's unbuttoned shirt, and pointed her almost mocking star from Duncan's to give a warm, unspoken greeting to Geoff – which, at that point, had to have been the third or fourth time that particular morning.
"So, what'd you guys talk about for an hour? I mean, it's kind of a lot for you guys practically meeting for the first time yesterday/" the former co-host of Total Drama Aftermath manage to drone just a bit above the usual buzz of breakfast conversation between peers.
Duncan tried his best to shrug nonchalantly. He was more worried about Courtney's true reaction to the happenings the evening before, seeing as how he'd received more than enough of a lecture for bunking with the maniac, let alone breathing a word in her direction. At some point, he'd realize any interaction with any other living human female would result in yet another god damned speech from that impeccably intrusive, controlling monster, but would only continue to ignore her. It was when she was angry that he liked her best, after all, though it'd taken much more effort than usual to part ways with the others the previous evening and spend time alone with one another, a feat usually taken on with the utmost enthusiasm. At the time, the slightly unstable teenage felon truly hadn't given it much thought. Being with Courtney had become a trained habit, after nearly a year being lost within the throes of her abrasive, rather unforgiving affections.
"Duncan and me? We talked about our plans to take over the camp and break out the booze, of course! It involves potential bone-breaking, a definite spillage of blood, and laying waste to monstrous beasts in the form of obsessive-compulsive, abusive crazies like Courtenstein." The crazed beauty voiced enthusiastically, big, bright eyes still set upon her utensils assault on her still, otherwise, untouched breakfast.
Geoff nearly choked on his poor excuse for a meal as a raucous grin met his lips, displaying the laughter dancing on the inside. "Courtenstein? Dude, Iz, that's priceless! DJ, man, why didn't we come up with that?"
The dark skinned young athelete chuckled in response, nodding his approval at the giggling young lunatic seated beside him, but pursed his lips in interest as Chris, followed by Courtney, filed into the mostly occupied building. Courtney took a seat beside Bridgette, crossing her arms and pouting expeditiously as Chris stepped upon the Screaming Gopher's tabletop, disregarding the looks of annoyance and concern cast blatantly upon him by the three campers seated there.
"Good morning, campers! How was the first night at our first shot at real summer camp?" The shameless masochist didn't give the crowd a moment to retort as he cast a delighted smirk in the direction of the kitchen, where Chef profusely returned it, exiting the room just after the nonverbal exchange. "Good, 'cause it's not getting any better! You guys remember those old challenges we used to have? The battles to the lawsuit-provoking end, the weekly eliminations, the marshmallows? Well, they're back, but instead of having you kids compete for a place in the camp, we're having you compete for privileges to make you, the normal, boring ass loser teen, better than your peers for once! Now, these challenges can range in difficulty, but trust me, the rewards are always worth it. We've got hot-tub privileges, nights to yourself in the old intern trailers – top quality, by the way, access to the craft services table for a week, and exclusive access to a private beach on the island!"
Bridgette frowned and, in her typical friendly and empathetic nature, placed a hand on the former CIT's shoulder, a look of worry scrawled across the soft frame of her face. "Haven't seen you all morning, and you walk in with Chris, of all people? Something up?"
The majority of the three young men, save for DJ, currently focusing for the most part upon the mock camp counselor - further elaborating on the other challenge rewards available – worked extensively to keep a bout of laughter to stir as Izzy mouthed her new sort of nickname for the very young woman sitting across from her, a hilariously obscure expression plastered onto her slightly bronze features. Duncan shook his head and met eyes with Izzy once more, both of them acquiring a favorable grin from the other in honor of the unspoken and modest, if not friendly, understanding they'd come to terms with just a few generously sized hours before.
"Can't seem to get Chris to change his mind about me moving to your guys' cabin. If he didn't have Chef crush my PDA with his monstrous boots and then toss it in the lake, I'd be able to get a hold of my lawyers and clear up this mess, but for now, it looks like I'm screwed." Courtney complained, casting a hateful glare at the young adult preaching from the nearby tabletop, and receiving a sardonic grin in return. She grumbled and turned away from him promptly. "I hate that man! I just better get a piece of today's reward as compensation. It's only fair!"
The blonde locked partier chuckled cheerfully and swathed one of his more than able arms around his girlfriend's waist, leaning forward to meet vastly differing eyes with the control freak. "Hate to break it to you, sweets, but I don't think Chris is really one for fairness – or the entire spectrum of, like, teenage emotion. Or human emotion, actually. The dude's a rock, dude."
Courtney scowled at the easygoing teenager and furrowed her brows accordingly. "But common courtesy is a rule clearly stated in his official Camp Counselor contract for his run in the real summer camp! He's gotta obey the guidelines, or he's fired; I'll be sure of that. And don't call me 'dude', you fraternity reject!"
"Okay, so, those of us who want to participate in today's relay, head out to the beach in ten minutes where we'll explain the rules, the rest of you, have a fun vacation! I'll leave you with Chef Hatchet as Head Counselor for today, and he's feeling a little wartime reminiscent today, and you're all not at liberty not to listen to his stories if you don't wanna get socked in the mouth! Catch you later, kids!" Chris shouted much too eagerly to leave anyone feeling comfortable as he made his departure from the building, allowing the Mess Hall to rumble with excited conversation.
{A/N} If it's any consolation, this chapter (collectively, really. This is only part one of two, or even three) is really long, and filled with character development for some of the supporting characters (Bridgette and Geoff, sort of, in this chapter.) alongside our main focuses. Really, I didn't anticipate this one being so long, but by the end, I realized I'd practically written a light novel. It just took so long to get the introduction done, I just decided to separate it into two, maybe three parts. Definitely worth it, though, I promise. Stay tuned, everyone.
Anyway, in response to my reviews, thank you all so much for the support and encouragement to continue! It's truly a pleasure to read through your reviews, so please continue to post them as I update! I'm not quite sure where I stand on Courtney bashing in the story, though I'll gladly make it clear that I hate her in my designated annotations (because I do, so much). Courtney is a character I've despised from the moment she stepped onto the Dock of Shame, and how she managed to worm her way into Duncan, my favorite character's, (beside his lovely Izzy, of course :D) good graces is beyond me. There is no chance in hell that I'm ending this work with Courtney still in control of him, so no worries to be had there. In addition, I don't very much care for Gwen either (I hate her only slightly less than Courtney, actually…), so I apologize to fans of her who happen to like this story, because I most likely won't be featuring her as often, or give her as many of those just adorable little quirks of hers (Those words were expressed in massive sarcasm quotes). Feel free to ask questions about my shipping preferences (I'm a shameless Dizzy fanatic), ALD (A Little Dizzy), or just my views upon the series or this story in general. I'm always happy to oblige, and will try to answer each quarry in full. Thanks again for coming back every week (or two…) to read and review, everyone; I'll try not to be this overdue with the chapters in the future. Until next time, all.
~ M. Rouge, of the Morgue