"Anything yet?"

Franky's question fell on deaf ears. Tom was busy scrounging for the flimsiest basket he could find ("The sensation of falling combined with a burning basket... I can't think of anything better!"), and Ellen had all but disappeared from sight.

"This is ridiculous," the youngest brother mumbled. "How hard is it to find a basket in a junkyard?"

"In a pinch... brother?"

Franky gave a yelp of surprise as he turned around. Sure enough, there stood Ron and Reg, looking as intimidating as they could for people half the size of their target.

"What are you guys doing here?" Franky asked.

"Ah, you took the words right out of my mouth," Ron retorted. "How could you not notice that Reg and I had beaten you to this part of the junkyard, hm?"

Franky bit his tongue.

"In any case, you seem to be looking for a basket. I advise you that if are to find one, you are to give it to me immediately."

"Uh... yeah!" Reg spoke up. "Or else you're in... uh... trouble. Yeah, trouble! That'll show you!"

Franky glared at his older siblings. "You realize that if I did that, I'd have all but given you the victory for this challenge, right?"

"Ah, he's finally catching on!" Ron said with a sadistic chuckle. "Franky, don't be so self-centered. We're not aiming for an individual victory, but a victory for the Verano family. If you were to take that basket for yourself, you'd be doing a disservice to that spirit."

"Screw that!" Franky shouted. "How am I supposed to know that you're not after a victory for yourself alone, huh?"

Ron shook his head. "Trust in a family member is most important, though considering your position in the family it's obvious that you haven't learned that yet. But, I am a patient man, and I know that you will learn in time."

With that, Ron stuck out a small arm.

"A shake. A bond that can never be broken between two men. It's the first step on your road to growth, Franky."

Franky stared at the arm for a few moments before giving a begrudging shake.

"Uh, boss... why are you fingers cro-" Reg was shut up by a quick punch to the gut courtesy of his older brother.

"Until we meet again, Franky. And I trust that will be very soon."

Ron and Reg turned to walk the other way as Franky stared at his hand.

Confession Cam

Franky - "I wasn't born yesterday, even if Ron thinks I was. All this crap about a family and a chain that can't be broken... it's like he doesn't think of me as a brother, just another tool for his indecent victory. I can't stand it!"

"Hey, I found something!"

Franky left his train of thought behind him as he heard Ellen's shout. He jogged over to another part of the mountain, where the assassin stood with Tom, both of them looking up at a well-crafted wicker basket.

"I'd ask who would throw something like that away, but I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth," Franky stated. "Why haven't you guys picked it up yet?"

"I don't do well with climbing," Ellen muttered. "And Tom still wants something with at least one hole in it."

"I'm telling you, it lacks character!" Tom spoke up. "We might win the challenge, but would we really win where it counts, in our hearts?"

Both Franky and Ellen stared at the daredevil for a few moments before reverting their attention back to the basket.

"I can only assume, then, that I will be in charge of picking it up, then?" Franky asked, already beginning his ascent.

"Just throw it down when you reach it, Franky!" Ellen shouted.

Ignoring the comment, Franky continued to climb the mountain of trash, throwing aside various wheels and gears in favor of a new makeshift foothold. At last, he reached the basket's location, though when he stuck his hand out to retrieve his prize, he grabbed another hand.

Franky veered his gaze around the basket. There, of all people, was Largo, her eyes widening with either terror or embarrassment.

Confession Cam

Franky - "So there I was, ready to get one of the main elements for our balloon, and the cutest girl in the world is staring across at me with her mind on the same thing. Do I let go and be a gentlemen at risk of playing into my brother's plan, or do I get it and make her upset?"

"Um, hi," Largo whispered. "Is... did you want this? Because I can go, um, find something else. I mean, it's great, which is why you wanted it as well, but, y'know, it's... oh, never mind."

"...huh? Oh, yeah, go ahead. It's all yours," Franky uttered, letting go of his grasp on the basket. "I mean, you found it first, right? So naturally it's yours."

"Really?" Largo asked, a faint blush forming on her face. "You don't have to-"

"I want to. Really, go ahead."

With a slight nod, Largo grabbed onto the basket firmer than before, though this unfortunately led to her losing balance and falling down the side of the hill of garbage.

"Largo!" Franky cried, scrambling over to look down the other side. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine..." a quiet voice spoke. "I landed in the basket, so I guess I should thank you for saving my life."

Franky heaved a sigh of relief before remembering that Ellen and Tom were on the other side of the mound. He peered down to see one very angry assassin and Tom, whose face was still in its seemingly never-ending grin.

Confession Cam

Ellen - "So Franky's the mole that Angela warned me about? I should've known. It's always the nice guys."

Tom - "Aw, man, they're so cute together!"

Franky - /He heaves a long sigh before looking up at the camera with a small grin./ "At least I saved her life."

"Sho, tell me about yourshelf!"

Sammy didn't respond to Isaac's inquiry. The superfan hadn't been quiet since he forced them to look for the tarp together, and she wasn't in any mood to entertain him.

"C'mon, don't be bashful. At the very leasht, it'll help pash the time while we look for a shuitable sheet."

Sammy sighed. "If you have to keep talking to me, could you at least not use so many words with 's'? You're going to drive me crazy."

"A little craziness could be helpful, you know."

"How so?"

Howie grinned. "Well, you don't sheem to have much in the way of a shelling point pershonality-wishe, yesh?"

Sammy frowned. "Are you saying I'm boring?"

"Far from it. It'sh that exact quality that makesh you shuch an intereshting individual in the first place!"

Sammy's expression did not change.

"Let me explain myshelf. The headsh of Total Drama won't pick any conteshtants without shome short of quirk, right? This year alone, we have a veteran, a trio of brothersh, thoshe who hate the world, thoshe who love the world, thoshe who haven't sheen the world at all, you name it. But then there'sh you, Shammy."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Your quirk ish that you have no quirk. You are fashinating for that reashon alone, Shammy, that you managed to shomehow overcome the regulationsh and join this show."

Sammy rolled her eyes. "Trust me, Howie, I don't think there's a big checklist on how wacky you have to be to join the show. I signed up, and I made it."

"Then what about your contract?" Howie mentioned. "If you don't make a food pun onche an epishode, you'll be automatically eliminated!"

"That's..." Sammy began, but she couldn't finish her sentence. "Oh, now I get it. Just because I have a penalty, you think that you can sneak your way to the top just by joining me, don't you?"

"Oh, heavensh, no," Howie replied. "I have no intention of winning the prize money. I shimply wish to live out the livesh that my idolsh already have. I only have an interesht in you on a pershonal level."

"'Only?'"

Howie chuckled. "You sheem to think I'm trying to make a shtatement."

Sammy gave a small smile back. "Maybe because you're so convinced that I'm trying to make one myself. Now get back to searching, would you?"

Howie gave an excited nod before digging into the garbage pile beside him.

Confession Cam

Sammy - "I just don't understand Howie. I mean, he shouldn't be hard to understand, right? He just wants to treat this like he treats those other season of Total Drama, like taking part in a museum.

"And yet, of all the people around him he could be fascinated by, he chooses the person who isn't fascinating. Maybe he's just nuts."

/Upon saying this, a celebratory horn resounded in the confessional, and a small amount of confetti fell from the sky./

"Stupid contract."

Zachary hadn't moved since the challenge officially began. Instead, he was occupying his time with a loose stick, drawing doodles on the dirt below his heels.

"Well, you sure are a go-getter, aren't you?"

Zachary glared up at Sheba, who was once again smoking a cigarette.

"I don't see you doing anything either, cripple. Get outta my face."

"Words hurt," Sheba mumbled, exhaling a puff of smoke. "Anyways, what do you got to lose? It's not like we have anything to aim for. We don't have a single plan going for us, and from the looks of it, you're a pretty fast thinker."

"Spare me the compliments," Zachary spat. "If I could do it, I would've done it already."

Sheba gave a laugh, though it was interrupted by a cough. "That's a bunch of bull, and you know it."

"The hell are you going on about?" Zachary asked.

"I'm talking about Topaz, of course."

Zachary cocked an eyebrow. "What's she got to do with any of this?"

Sheba widened her smile. "Don't try to talk your way out of this one. You've got eyes for her, don'tcha?"

"You're kidding. The shit I took this morning is smarter than she is, and a hell of a lot easier to look at."

Sheba waved a finger at the boy, using her cane to support herself. "You're not getting out of this one that easily. I saw you two talking during that first challenge. You two were having an argument, right? Let me tell you something I've learned, hon. There are two ways you know a relationship is being started, when you're in love or when you hate each other. From the sounds of it, we've got a regular number two here, and I don't just mean your shit."

Zachary grimaced. "Who do you think you are, talking to me like that, huh?"

"Someone who's been in your position before, that's who. You're a slumdog, right? You ought to be pretty damn good at knowing what you want and where to get it, and you're zero for two right now."

Zachary fumed.

"Oh, did I touch a nerve?" Sheba teased. "Sorry, hon, but everybody needs a push to get themselves back into the game once in a while. I'll see you around."

With that, Sheba turned away from Zachary as she casually tossed her cigarette butt onto the ground.

"Knowing what I want, huh..." Zachary repeated, beginning another sketch on the ground.

The familiar sounds of "Linus and Lucy" left Louis' saxophone for the ninth time in a half-hour, though Jane and Foxglove weren't paying much attention to it. The jazzman knew that silence was the last thing a musician wanted to hear, so he forced himself to continue, despite being blue in the face.

"Are you mad at me?" Foxglove finally asked her friend.

"Trust me, I'm fine," Jane replied. "I've just... got a lot on my mind right now. Could you ask Louis to stop?"

"I don't think you'll have to worry about that," Foxglove said, watching as Louis finally collapsed from exhaustion.

"Why did you interrupt the conversation I was having with Tom earlier today?" Jane asked.

"I was worried, all right? You don't often talk with others, so I thought he was bullying you."

"Bullying me? Somebody willingly wants to talk to me for the first time since I can remember, and you came up and killed the conversation!"

Foxglove flinched.

"Everyday it's the same thing, right? We wake up together, we eat together, we do every single thing together. I just want the chance to be myself instead of consistently being chained up with you. Is that too much to ask?"

"But... but I..." Foxglove stuttered. "What if something happens to you, Jane?"

"I'll put on my big girl pants, that's what. You showed me just how tough someone can be, Foxglove. Now it's time for me to show you how tough I can be."

Foxglove stared at her best friend, at a complete loss for words.

"Louis just got back up. Let's get back to work."

Indeed, the jazzman had managed to pick himself back up, though he was breathing so heavily that his saxophone sounded more like a dying animal than anything. He gave the girls a weary thumbs-up before shuffling back to the garbage pile.

"All right, I trust you. But if something comes up, you're gonna tell me, and we're gonna show whoever treated you poorly what happens when you mess with us. Deal?" Foxglove asked.

Jane nodded, before running to catch up with Louis (though considering his state, it didn't take long at all). Foxglove brought up the rear, her forehead wrinkling as she thought.

Confession Cam

Jane - "I never thought I would be able to stand up to Foxglove like that. I guess that's a first step in making a person for myself, but... I just hope it's a good one."

Foxglove - "I have no idea where that came from. I mean, sure, Tom's a nice guy, but people don't approach Jane for a conversation without making fun of her, and I... I guess I thought he'd just be the same. Heh... looks like I also have some growing up to do."

Topaz sneaked around the mound of trash; aside from the muffler she held under her arm, she was unable to find any suitable parts for her team's flying machine.

"Gotta look. Gotta search. Gotta find it."

Topaz stopped in her tracks. She knew only one person who would speak like that.

"Isaac? Is that you?"

The strange boy peered upwards over his perpetually lowered glasses. He seemed to be tinkering with a rather complex device.

"Ah, you. I need, require, must have that muffler. Please."

Topaz raised her eyebrows.

"It's a fair request, no? You have no desire, want, longing for that muffler. I do. Please. The muffler. Now."

"All right, I guess..." Topaz muttered to herself, tossing the muffler at the boy. Isaac caught it, and immediately forced it onto the contraption.

Topaz stepped around to get a better look, and gasped. Somehow, Isaac had managed to put together a miniature zeppelin of sorts. Among the curious items that made it up were the basket Largo had found, a torn bedsheet, several yards of twine, and Topaz's muffler, used to stick together a pair of bicycle pedals.

"Worked with Largo. Made it easily. A great sight to behold, observe, look upon, no?"

The bombshell barely managed to form together her next sentence.

"I think we just won this challenge."

"-sistence on making me stay behind. What, just because I'm in this giant machine you think I'm worthless as the trash around you, huh? I'm just a bunch of dead weight. Well, let me tell you, I'm the best damn team member you have, and you're just wasting my potential."

Raphael heaved his ninth sigh in so many minutes. Lorelei had not stopped her complaining since the challenge began. Fortunately for the veteran, the other members of the Killer Trash were beginning to return.

"Oh, for god's sake, you're back!" Raphael cried with uncharacteristic glee. "Man, how many months does it take to find some suitable hot air balloon equipment?"

It was then, of course, that he noticed what the others had actually brought back. In lieu of the wicker basket, Franky, Tom, and Ellen had scrounged together a large mixing bowl. Howie and Sammy's strings consisted of a handful of radio wires and kite strings. Most embarrassing was Louis, Foxglove, and Jane, whose tarp was nothing more than a bunch of printer paper put together with scotch tape.

"...well," Raphael stated, his enthusiasm completely gone. "This isn't going to go very well, now is it?"

Of course, as soon as the words left Raphael's mouth, a blaring horn blasted through the junkyard. However, instead of the high pitch from Chris' bullhorn, it was a lower tone.

A dump truck was backing into the junkyard, its contents being haphazardly emptied near the "official" garbage pile. Among the debris was a striped balloon, a packaged set of balloon strings, a laundry basket, and a roll of duct tape.

"Um," Raphael said. "I won't question what gods decided that this would end up here, but for now, I'm more satisfied with what we have. Let's get to work, guys; I think we just won this challenge!"

Bastion grumbled to himself as he leaned against the side of the fence blocking him from the outside world.

"What a bunch of losers. Don't they know anything about victory? If it's not perfect, it doesn't even deserve to happen."

"Rough day?"

Bastion didn't move.

"Don't ignore me," Meredith said.

"I should. You're from the other team, ain't ya? The only people who could screw up a good victory would be you guys."

Meredith blinked. "I see where you're coming from. But tell me, if I really did support them, wouldn't I be over there trying my hardest, and not approaching someone from the opposing team?

Bastion gave a cocky grin. "You sayin' this is just a strategy thing?"

"It's my stock and trade, if you will," Meredith responded. "I believe you said something about aiming for perfection, am I right?"

"Yeah, and so what if you are?"

Meredith blinked again. "I'm willing to make a proposal, should you be so inclined. Accept, and I will inform you on how to remove the excess filth from your team, while also making sure that nobody can bring you down with them should you be so unlucky as to lose."

Bastion's grin widened. "Tell me more."

"It's not a complicated procedure. You must simply be willing to give up a challenge, like you are doing today, when I say so. I will then tell you who to vote for, and you have my word that that person will be eliminated."

"Hold on a minute, lady," Bastion interrupted. "If I can't do this perfectly, it ain't a plan I'm interested in."

"Do you truly believe that a perfect game must be done without sacrifices? Does a perfect game of chess not involve sacrificing a pawn? Is no war won without sending lives that you know will be lost?"

Bastion's grin disappeared entirely. "Then they ain't perfect. A perfect game is where my team cleans you out, letting me wipe out the rest of them one by one 'til there ain't no one left."

Meredith shook her head. "I'm afraid your thinking is as wrong as your grammar. Do you truly believe that you will be able to win when your team is disbanded?"

Bastion laughed. "You kiddin' me? That bunch of suckers will be like ants under my feet!"

"Even the veteran?"

"He's the easiest of 'em all! All he does is watch us. He ain't a competitor like me, he's just a sad, pathetic coward."

"A pathetic coward who has managed to complete your team's balloon."

Bastion's eyebrows soared. Sure enough, a balloon had spawned from the Killer Trash's designated space.

"You gotta be shittin' me! That runt managed to make something by leading those losers?"

"He is not to be underestimated. I am more than certain that you would be willing to accept a loss or two so that you may eliminate him sooner rather than later."

Bastion smacked his face a few times, before turning to where Meredith stood; she had not budged during their entire conversation.

"All right, lady, it's a deal. But if any funny stuff happens, I'm droppin' you like a foul ball, you got it?"

Meredith nodded. "Much obliged. I do encourage you to lay off the sports metaphors, though."

"Nah, I don't know no "fours." Is it a card game? 'Cause let me tell you, I could beat ya in a flash if you taught me."

"Never mind."

The more familiar blare of Chris' foghorn announced the end of the allotted hour.

"All right, let's see the crap you guys... came... up... with..." Chris trailed off, his jaw dropping in shock.

On his left stood the garbage hot-air balloon, a smirking Raphael taking the reins as he repositioned the flaming barrel. On the host's right was the pseudo-zeppelin Isaac had put together, Angela sitting in its middle.

"I've gotta say, I'm impressed!" Chris said with some slight applause. "I thought this would be one of those seasons we wouldn't want to talk about after it happened, but if this keeps up, it might be one for the record books."

"Were you expecting anything else?" Bastion quipped, jogging up to the rest of his team. "You already have-"

"We get it," Lorelei droned. "You really like bragging. Hell, and I thought the nerd was annoying."

"Excuse me?" Raphael questioned. "I think you'll find that my stereotype this season is the veteran."

"Veteran nerd, then."

"That's more like it!"

"May we begin?" Angela asked from the zeppelin's interior. "I find this mechanism to be quite unbalanced. I will not have my search for enlightenment stop because of faulty engineering."

"Whatever," Chris grumbled. "Anyways, we don't have the budget for a flying test, so you guys can just see who can stay in the air the longest. Sound good?"

"Indeed," Angela replied. "Isaac, how does this aircraft take flight?"

"Needs a spark, jolt, shock of outside energy," Isaac replied. "Once you get the engine running, start pedaling."

"Sounds like a job for me," Arnold spoke up. "Trust me, I know a thing or two about starting things up."

"Out of curiosity, Isaac, what is the blimp filled with when it takes off?" Sheba asked.

"Helium," the outcast replied.

The unmistakable sound of Arnold's snapping fingers was like a death toll in the ears of the Screaming Dumpsters.

Though Arnold aimed for a smaller explosion, it was still enough to set the zeppelin aflame within seconds. Fortunately, Angela had managed to escape from the cockpit by seemingly teleporting to safety, but the floating chariot was quickly being grounded.

Raphael, on the other hand, simply moved the barrel up to the balloon. He floated for a few fleeting seconds before returning to the ground.

"Huzzah," Raphael flatly cheered.

"Well, that was anticlimactic," Chris commented. "But hey, explosions sell. Killer Trash, you're safe for another day. Screaming Dumpsters, you're not."

"You disappoint me, child," Angela said to Arnold with a shake of her head. "Such violent outbursts will only lead to a lack of balance, and a lack of balance will only lead to disaster."

"Hey, don't get your toga in a twist," Arnold retorted. "If it wasn't for the wiz kid making the damn thing helium-powered, it'd have gone out without a hitch."

"No, still hitches. Knots were required," Isaac replied.

"Look, who's to say it was even the explosion that caused it, huh?" Arnold asked. "Why not ask the smoker of the group who could start a fire?"

"Low blow," Sheba growled. "I'd like to see you prove that you that I started the fire."

Arnold grinned. "Well, I don't see any proof that I did it myself."

Sheba pointed her stick towards the burning remnants of the zeppelin. Sure enough, a pair of sunglasses sat there, untouched.

"...Crap."

Night fell quickly on the junkyard. The Killer Trash's barrel had been removed from the balloon, now back to its place as the light source where the ten contestants sat.

"I've got to say, I've been doing this show for years, but I can't remember a single case where a team screwed up half as bad as this one," Chris commented with a sinister laugh. "But hey, at least I'm not the one who's sweating bullets. You know the drill; I call your name, you get the paycheck.

"The first person safe tonight is... Meredith."

Meredith took her paycheck with no celebration.

"Ron, Reg, you're safe as well."

Ron snatched both paychecks for himself. Reg opened his mouth to respond, but a glare from his superior shut him up.

"Zack."

"That's not my name."

"Zachary, then, whatever. Topaz, you're getting one as well."

The bombshell accidentally bumped into Zachary on the way back.

"Watch yourself," Zachary grunted.

"Look who's talking," Topaz grumbled back.

"Angela, Largo."

The two young women retrieved their paychecks, Largo letting out a faint "thank goodness" as she accepted hers.

"...Isaac, you're safe."

Isaac's eyes widened. "No handle, no secret contents, can still move. Not safe."

"Chef, would you give the kid his paycheck?"

Chef Hatchet rolled his eyes, but forced the paycheck in Isaac's hands regardless.

Sheba looked Chris directly in the eyes. Arnold, on the other hand, was wringing his hands in nervousness.

"Both of you have been accused of starting the fire. Arnold, you're a regular firestarter, so there's no reason you couldn't do it. Sheba, your cigarette butts have been found all over the junkyard. Not only are you setting a bad example for our target audience," Chris paused to give a cheesy smile to the camera, "but it's now common knowledge that you have a lighter on you, so you could have been trying to sabotage the team.

"Either way, the final paycheck of the night goes to...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...Sheba."

Sheba gave a wry smile as she limped over to get her paycheck.

"Damn it," Arnold muttered. "Well, guess it can't be helped. Sorry for blowing it, guys."

Zachary gave a harsh laugh. "Don't try to defend yourself. "'Blowing it' is all you've done since you got here."

Arnold gave a laugh of his own. "Guess you're right. Either way, I'd better get going. It's been a blast, guys."

The pun-weary contestants gave a simultaneous groan as Arnold leaped onto the Conveyor Belt of Losers.

"You think that Lucy's gonna get along with him?" Topaz wondered.

"A girl who blows her top and a guy who blows stuff up," Sheba said. "If anything, it'd probably be a pretty good TV show."

Once again, Raphael took his place on the roof of the boy's cabin. The evening was windy, so he kept his coin pocketed, focusing instead on his stopwatch.

He heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and quickly pocketed his timepiece. Curiously, it was Zachary who was coming up to meet him.

"Fancy meeting you he-"

Raphael's greeting was interrupted by a swift slap to the face from the slumdog, knocking his already-broken glasses down to the ground.

"Huh. Guess it does feel good to get what I want," Zachary said with consideration as he turned to leave.

"Don't you ever change, compadre..." Raphael muttered dizzily before sitting himself back down to stare at the stopwatch once again.

Who voted for whom?

Angela - "Arnold. The journey for enlightenment can not be interrupted by such intolerable distaste for balance."

Arnold - "I'm still convinced that Sheba's the culprit here. You can control an explosion, but a loose match is anything but. If that combined with the explosion, it'd do a lot more than just damage a plane."

Ron - "Reg and I are votin' for Sheba. She's gettin' along too well with that Largo kid, and I just can't trust anybody tryin' to persuade Franky."

Reg - "Don't tell Ron, but my vote's for Arnold. Sheba's pretty."

Meredith - "The method for an elimination game such as this is to make sure no random variables get in the way. While it would be easy to eliminate Arnold at this moment, I will cast a vote for Isaac instead, as I am unable to predict his movements. Arnold could still be valuable, though if he is lost instead, that simply means I won't have to deal with him later. This is what we call a 'win-win' situation, for the slower ones watching."

Zachary - "Are you nuts? Of course I'm voting for Sheba. If Cane and Able thinks that I'm not doin' my fair share, she's as blind as a bat, and she'll pay for it."

Sheba - "Arnold. Sure, a few people here may be trying their best to get on my bad side, but if there's one thing I can't tolerate, it's people pointing fingers to hide the blame."

Isaac - "Vote? Oh. Arnold. He doesn't know the importance, necessity, need for hitches. That's unforgivable."

Topaz - "I don't know. Arnold, I guess? I'm sorry, I'm just trying to figure out Isaac, but every time I try that I also try to figure out Zachary, and that's just not healthy for my mind."

Largo - "Um... I vote for Arnold. He's just too loud. I hope he's not mad at me..."

Arnold - six votes

Sheba - three votes

Isaac - one vote

Eliminated: Lucy, Arnold

Author's Note: I thank you for reading.