"Last time, on Total Drama Junkyard!

"The two teams had to take to the skies in hand-crafted flying machines, but the contestants got winded trying to find materials from the junkyard. The Killer Trash got a bit of dumb luck from a dump truck, while the Screaming Dumpsters relied on Isaac's zeppelin to send them soaring to victory.

"Unfortunately, Arnold's explosive personality made the Dumpsters' chance for victory go up in flames, meaning that the pyromaniac's dynamite performance ended after a vote. But suspicions may still fall on Sheba, who's been revealed to be a smoker.

"Can the Trash maintain their winning streak? Will the relationship between Franky and Largo develop further? Could Meredith and Bastion's alliance really make a perfect game? Nah, of course not, but it'll still be fun for me to watch. And you can too, right here, right now, on Total!

"Drama!

"Junkyard!"

Again, the lock was broken, and again, Sammy sneaked in to the kitchen in the makeshift mess hall. She fiddled with her lockpicks in her apron pocket as she walked forward, an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

The mess hall was not as quiet as it should have been. A short series of bangs echoed through the empty building as soon as she entered, and she knew that if she wasn't alone, some pots and pans had fallen to the ground.

Knowing Sammy, though, her main concern would have been the latter.

Surprisingly, the kitchen was mess-free. No silverware out of place, no dishes crashing to the ground. The noise had gotten louder, however.

Closing her eyes, Sammy honed her sense of hearing as well as she could to her surroundings. She knew the sound was in there…

A moment later, she managed to find the source; the sink. She stared down at it for a while, considering the best course of action.

Unfortunately, the early morning did not do any favors for Sammy's train of thought. Without any better ideas, she gave the sink a swift kick.

The noises stopped for a moment, before a familiar voice came out of it.

"Er… the dishwasher hash returned?"

Sammy frowned. "Howie, what are you doing in there?"

"Would you believe me if I shaid I was practishing my plumbing?" the idolizer responded.

"No, I don't think I would."

"Blasht it!"

A series of grunts and groans emerged from the sink as Howie attempted to escape from his sanitized cell.

"A little ashishtanshe, if you pleashe?"

Sammy rolled her eyes, though not in annoyance as much as trying to find an object to pry the sink's grating opened. Her gaze fell upon a crowbar at the far end of the room, which she quickly grabbed.

"I will take your shilenshe ash an inshult to my integrity… which I can't blame you for, exactly, but shtill!" Howie complained, pounding on the sink.

Sammy did roll her eyes in annoyance at that.

"Hold on a minute, would you?" the chef asked before applying the crowbar to the edge of the grating. A few yanks later, the grating crashed open, and Howie tumbled out, his clothes drenched.

"Well… I can't shay I wash expecting something like that," Howie mumbled, squeezing the water out of the edge of his shirt.

"How did you even get yourself in there?" Sammy asked.

Howie gave a cheeky grin. "Well, to be honesht, I shneaked in here after the challenge. I took a quick catnap, but I guesh Chef musht've closhed the sink's grating without my noticing. At leasht I can tell you a lot more about indoor plumbing than I knew beforehand."

Sammy frowned. "Okay, better question. Why were you in the sink, exactly?"

Howie rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Well, I wash waiting for you."

The chef glared at Howie.

"No, no, not anything like that, geesh! I jusht wanted to shpend shome more time with you, and I knew that you had prepared breakfasht yeshterday!"

Sammy shook her head. "Howie, how many times do I have to tell you that I'm not interested in whatever it is you think we have?"

"But it'sh sho accurate!" he responded. "The pershon whoshe reashon for being here ish to chelebrate the hishtory of shtereotypesh, and the pershon who wantsh nothing to do with them. Why wouldn't shuch a duo be a couple on a show like thish?"

Sammy stared at Howie for a moment before slapping him across the face.

"Um… ouch," Howie grumbled, rubbing his cheek. "What wash that for?"

"You won't listen to reason, I figured you'd listen to actions," Sammy mumbled. "Howie, the reason I joined this competition wasn't to celebrate stereotypes, or to fight them, or anything like that. I just want some money so I can start my own restaurant. I understand that your being here alone means that you've already achieved your dreams. I just hope that you understand that it's time for me to achieve mine."

Howie nodded solemnly. "That'sh quite commendable. You have my shincheresht apologiesh for anything I've done that hash kept you from purshuing thoshe dreamsh."

With that, Howie crawled back into the sink, much to Sammy's confusion.

"Oh, don't worry about me. Ash hard ash it ish to believe, the water here ish genuinely clean."

Sammy looked on as Howie continued his journey back into the sink before shaking her head and starting up on breakfast.

Confession Cam

Sammy – "To be perfectly honest, I can't say that I was expecting Howie to be able to take that so maturely. Maybe he's a little more grown up than I thought."

Howie – "The water'sh filthy. I jusht didn't want her to shee me look sho defeated. Gotta keep grinning for the camerash, right?"

The sun rose once again over the gloomy junkyard, and once again Louis had climbed to the top of the boy's cabin to greet the morning with a saxophone solo.

What the jazzman did not suspect to find was a sleeping Raphael, his lanky limbs taking up a majority of the space on the roof.

Louis nudged his arm with his foot. The veteran twitched slightly before rolling over, his stopwatch falling out of his coat pocket.

Louis knelt over to pick up the fallen item, but he was interrupted by Raphael, who had suddenly and violently woken up.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Raphael shouted, frantically grasping for the stopwatch. "I need that more than you do! Probably!"

In a panic, Louis dropped the item, which Raphael greedily snatched up before returning it to his pocket.

"Damn it all, Louis, why would you of all people be sneaking through my belongings?" Raphael asked, dusting himself off from his uncomfortable sleep. "I'd expect that sort of thing from someone a bit more suspicious."

Louis shrugged.

"Look, just… lay off the stopwatch, all right?" the veteran sighed. "Call it an heirloom. Kinda like my… my…"

Raphael interrupted himself to frantically search his pockets.

"Oh no. Oh, you've got to be kidding me. Where the hell is the coin?"

Louis cocked an eyebrow before peering down at the ground. Sure enough, a small glint shined from a metallic surface. The coin had landed a few stories below where the two men stood.

True to his word (or lack thereof), Louis got Raphael's attention by playing a sharp note on his saxophone. Raphael jumped in fear before turning around.

"All right, I get it," Raphael seethed, his eyes twitching in a frightening fashion. "I'm not the best guy to be around without my damned comfort items. But if I don't get that coin soon, I'm not going to be of much use for anything. Understand what I'm saying here?"

Louis pointed downwards. Raphael glanced at where he was pointing until he had found his dropped coin.

"Ah. So there it is," Raphael commented. "You have my thanks."

The jazzman nodded.

Both men stared at each other for a moment before Raphael broke the silence.

"Can… can I say it?"

Louis's normally stoic expression turned sour.

"No, c'mon, let me say it. I kind of have to say it now, right? You've totally set me up to say it."

The expression worsened.

"I'm totally gonna say it."

Having enough, Louis gave the veteran a quick kick in the rear, sending him flying from the roof.

"Louis I have the feeling that this is the beginning of a beautiful-"

Raphael's movie quote was interrupted as he collided face-first with the dusty ground, next to Chef Hatchet, who was occupying his time with a crossword puzzle.

"Hmmm. Ten-letter word for being acquaintances," the large man read off.

"…friendship…" Raphael finally finished.

"…Friendship, yeah! That works perfectly. Good work, kid," Chef congratulated as he scribbled down his successful word. "You'll make a good soldier yet."

Raphael attempted to answer with a salute. Unfortunately, he only managed to slap himself in the face.

Topaz was spending more time with Sheba. While the orphan was once again smoking a cigarette, Topaz was content fiddling with an unlit one.

"What's your life like back home?" Sheba asked between drags. "You haven't said much about yourself since we started."

"Oh, it's all right, I guess," Topaz answered. "The comments on my figure get pretty damn grating after a while, but there are just as many people who say that I'm just nice to have around or that I can make them smile or whatever. You know how it is, right?"

Sheba gave a chuckle. "Maybe you don't remember that I've been wandering the streets for most of my life?"

"That makes two of us."

The two girls turned around to see Zachary approaching, a mysterious glint in his eyes.

"Maybe you should've found a place to stay where you'll learn how to not set blimps on fire," the cynic commented. "Myself, I found a decent part of town where I learned what actually matters in life."

"Scorn and hatred?" Topaz guessed, her brows lowered.

"Smarts," Zachary replied. "More than just a basic reliance on some mindless chumps to make all of my own decisions. You know why I'm going to win this game? Because I'm the only one here who knows anything about anything."

"Didn't see you doing any Herculean tasks during the flying challenge," Sheba quipped. "I imagine your contribution for our next challenge will be enjoying a tasty sandwich and taking a nap?"

"Watch your mouth, cripple," Zachary spat. "If you're questioning me, you're putting your whole damn reputation in jeopardy."

Sheba cocked an eyebrow. "You have my attention."

"You're a homeless orphan, right? Little Orphan Sheba, with your quick wits and your first-aid kit. But you and I? We're just two sides of the same coin, like that same filthy coin Veteran's Lame keeps flipping around. The fact that we're on the same team doesn't change the fact that I'm still the superior one."

"Shut the hell up," Topaz said. "We're not taking your words as law."

Zachary grinned. "Trust me, if they did, you two would've been thrown out of this game on day one."

Topaz slapped him across the face.

"We lose, you're going home," Topaz whispered venomously. "You may be high and mighty, but you know damn well that I can be persuasive."

"Giving up your well-being just to see a guy get kicked out of a reality show, huh?" Zachary responded, his grin widening. "And here I thought you might have had some sense in that pretty little head of yours."

"Just ignore him," Sheba grumbled. "He's a bully, and bullies just want attention."

Topaz nodded, but gave the slumdog a middle finger before returning to her conversation with Sheba.

Confession Cam

Zachary – "A bully? What the hell is this, public television? Using buzzwords like that only means that you're lying to yourself about the world around you. People like that absolutely disgust me."

"So you're saying that after all of that, they still thought you were stuck in the attic?" Tom asked Jane as they sat across from each other.

Jane nodded before taking another bite of sausage.

"Ha ha, that is incredible!" Tom laughed. "To think that you could pull something off like that makes me want to work even harder. I, er, I mean no offense."

"None taken," Jane signed back before realizing what she had done.

Tom looked at her in confusion for a moment before his cell phone started vibrating. Opening it up, he read Jane's message in plain English.

"Say, where's your friend? Foxglove, right?" Tom asked, pocketing his phone. Jane pointed towards the far end of the cafeteria; it was now Foxglove who was eating alone.

"I'll be right back," the daredevil said before excusing himself from the table. Jane watched him move toward her best friend and flinched slightly.

Confession Cam

Jane – "Foxglove tends to pride herself on giving me a hand when I need it the most. But after what I said to her during the last challenge, I'm worried that she might think that she's useless or something. But if anyone can put a smile on her face, it'd be Tom. He can't stop smiling himself, after all!"

The translator seemed uncharacteristically sullen as she sat in the corner, mindlessly poking at a piece of omelet. When Tom arrived to her table, she didn't as much as lift her head to see who was approaching.

"How's it going?" Tom asked.

No answer.

"I gotta say, Jane's been worrying about you a bit. Looks like things are a lot different than they were a few days ago, huh?"

"Leave me alone," Foxglove mumbled. "I need to think about some stuff."

Tom didn't budge. "I can't say I totally know what's bothering you, but I do know that there's nothing that gets me down in the dumps more than eating alone surrounded by friends and teammates. Are you sure there's nothing I can do to help?"

Foxglove stabbed her breakfast with her fork. "Yeah, there is, Tom. I want you to stop making fun of me and my best friend!"

The daredevil looked taken aback.

"There is nothing in this world that I hate more than people like you. The kind of people who jerk along kind-hearted individuals with your lies and deceitful talk just so you can make yourself look better for taking pity on us. I've seen it too many times."

"Foxglove…"

"Do you realize how hard it is to live life as a mute person, Tom?" Foxglove continued. "Back home there are communities for deaf individuals who celebrate the fact that they can't hear. When Jane tried to join them, as soon as they noticed that she could tell when a doorbell rang, or when a TV turned on, they cast her out. Everyone else just sees her as a freak. How am I supposed to consider you as anything other than just another person who's going to break her down?"

Tom remained silent.

"The fact that you're the kind of guy who willingly puts himself into danger and the fact that you're trying to make friends with her can't be a coincidence. You want her to join you. You want to see her get hurt, I know it! I just know it!"

She slammed her fists on the table, interrupting the usual conversations that filled the cafeteria.

Tom looked down at her. "Would you mind if I said something in my defense?"

She shook her head no.

"The fact that you and your friend have been treated with such disrespect makes me sad. But at the same time, you have to remember that we're all from pretty different places and backgrounds, and every one of us deserves a chance to be heard, to be understood, if they have something to say. I'll admit I was the one who approached Jane first, but she seemed genuinely happy to have someone to talk to, and I was more than happy to listen.

"The way I live my life is a bit strange, I know, and I will never, under any circumstances, force anyone to follow me. I'm all for recommending a little adventure every now and again, sure, but if at any point she or whoever else felt uncomfortable, I wouldn't force them any further then they'd want to. That's the same way I treat my friendships, as well."

Foxglove blinked.

"If you wouldn't mind my asking… can we start things over? Just between us, of course. Jane and I have established a pretty good connection so far, ha ha!"

Foxglove blinked again, this time tears welling up in her brown eyes.

"Need a hug?" Tom asked, holding his arms open.

She nodded before practically tackling the larger teen, sobbing into his shoulder.

"I didn't… I didn't think you'd be different…" she sobbed. "I'm sorry…"

"It's all right… it's all right…" Tom repeated. "We all make mistakes."

Jane gave a small smile as she watched from her own table.

Behind the cafeteria, Bastion and Meredith stood, looking over a sheet of paper the chessmaster was holding.

"I've taken the liberty of writing down who I consider the best possible candidates to eliminate for either of our next elimination ceremonies," Meredith began. "And before you ask, yes, this is including the near-impossible scenario that you and your flawless talent are kept down by the rest of your team."

"Heh, glad to see someone's finally understood the quality of my abilities," Bastion bragged. "So who do you have down?"

"For my team, I'm considering eliminating either Ron or Reg. As your team has the actually competent brother of the three, it makes no sense to keep either of them around, as their actions seem to only cause self-destruction, which is far from what we need this early in the game."

Bastion shrugged. "Eh, who gives a crap. Just tell me who's bogging me down the most!"

Meredith's left eyelid lowered a centimeter. "As it turns out, it appears that you were correct; Raphael should be your next target. Considering he was able to single-handedly give his team a victory during the flight challenge, he seems to be a lot more talented than he seems."

The jock laughed out loud. "What the hell are you talking about! That drip just got a lucky break. I'm gonna vote for whoever I want next round, because there's no way your predictions are correct at all, sister."

Meredith looked over the sheet again. "Considering that the only other option would be to vote for yourself, I'd say you have no other choice."

Bastion froze in place.

"If the object of the game is to eliminate the most powerful players quickly, or to rid ourselves of excess competitors, the former would be the better option for a team with a two-challenge winning streak. If you were voted out, not only would that leave the Trash as a significantly weaker team, but it would make you all the more likely to be brought back upon the merge, as is the pattern with shows such as this."

"Okay, let's bring this back to the top of the inning here," Bastion interrupted. "You're saying that if I axe myself, and deliberately play a less-than-perfect game, I'm going to end up winning the whole thing in the end?"

"I didn't say that. All I said was that the likelihood of your return would be significantly more probable if that situation were to occur."

Bastion tapped his foot impatiently. "Damned if I do, damned if I don't… looks like a regular seven-ten split."

"Weren't you using baseball metaphors?"

"Okay, I'll vote for him if it comes to that," he responded, completely ignoring Meredith's comment. "But I'm not too happy about this. You're treading on thin ice, sister, and the puck hasn't even hit the rink yet!"

Meredith exhaled before turning the opposite direction and taking her leave.

"Did you hear that, Reg?" Ron asked his brother as he crawled out from under the pile of junk he used as a hiding place.

"I sure did, Boss. Who woulda thought that it'd take him so long to mention hockey in Canada?"

Ron thumped him on the head. "Not that, ya nimrod! If we lose today, chances are she's gonna get everyone together and vote you out!"

Reg rubbed his wound. "I coulda sworn she said either of us were gonna go home, Boss…"

The elder brother shook his head. "Sorry to say, Reg, that you're clearly the more likely of us to be voted out. Given my debonair appearance and my charming wit, I've practically got the others wrapped around my little finger. If you don't pick up the pace, you just might face the consequences!"

Reg swallowed hard.

"So all we have to is win this, brother, and the whole thing will blow over. Don't forget, we've still got Franky eating out of the palm of my hand, so with a little persuasive action we'll be sure to win this one!"

The younger brother nodded before looking down at his suit. "Aw, no, this is gonna take forever to clean."

Confession Cam

Ron – "So it appears that Meredith girl thinks she can run this game. Of course, one person out of seven who doesn't treat me with the highest form of respect doesn't sound terrible, but if you let even one out of your sights, there's no way to tell when they're gonna turn into a filthy, lying rat. She's got to go."

Reg – "Uh, not to soil the good name of the Boss or anything, but the last time he tried showing me his 'charming wit' he threw a piece of garbage at Largo and laughed. Considerin' that Franky has the hots for her, I gotta say that might've been a bit much. We're brothers, after all, and brothers gotta stick together!"

Ellen – "Ugh, when are we going to start losing these challenges? If I don't get a contract soon, it'll be like I joined this show for nothing!"

The twenty remaining competitors huddled together near the entrance to the junkyard, Chris McLean grinning even more sadistically than usual.

"Today's challenge is going to pay homage to one of the more forgotten and treasured elements of a good junkyard," the host began.

"Looks like you're getting your own challenge," Franky whispered to Largo, the wallflower politely laughing.

"Now, some of you may be wondering where Chef is."

"We're not," several voices droned.

"Well, he's getting the main obstacle you're going to have to overcome: a gigantic magnet!"

"Freakin' magnets?" Bastion repeated. "How does that work?"

"Glad you asked," the host said. "Here's the deal: this baby is so powerful that pretty much anything metallic on your person is going to be dragged up and stuck to one of its poles. All you have to do is get everything you lost back before the other team to win immunity. And don't worry if you fail; we are contractually obligated to return your belongings, so we'll just shut off the power when one team wins.

"And speaking of which, here comes Chef!"

The bulky man rode in a large crane, an abnormally huge magnet precariously teetering on the edge of it. He grinned as he inched forward, watching the reactions of the teenagers.

"Now we're playing with power," Chef Hatchet quipped as he tapped a big red button.

A monotonous hum sounded from the crane as the magnet quivered, searching for items to pick up.

Louis was the first to lose something, his saxophone being dragged from its case and stuck to the top of the magnet, shortly followed by his sunglasses. Largo and Isaac each had their glasses stuck as well.

"Ha! Looks like it's a good thing I went for plastic frames," Raphael commented.

Of course, his stopwatch soon went flying out of his pocket.

"All right, guess I spoke too soon, but now I'm determined to win this challenge."

His coin followed suit.

"...And wouldn't you know it, it's time for me to collapse in a heap, what are the odds, you guys have fun."

Two competitors that seemed unaffected by the magnetic waves were Angela and Bastion, the former sitting directly underneath the machine.

"How are you doing that?" Topaz asked. "Shouldn't your earrings be hanging up there as well?"

"As one who has perfected balance in all things, I have built what could be considered a protective shield around myself," the yogi answered. "Perhaps one day you, too, could master what is needed to defy gravity itself."

"I, uh, I think I'll pass," Topaz answered, looking rather disturbed.

"Good luck trying to get me by the cleats, suckers!" Bastion taunted. "These things are so caked with dirt you can barely even tell they were metal in the first place!"

"It's fascinating watching him think," Ellen muttered to herself. "Hard to imagine that we could devolve so quickly from what we became."

Chris looked disappointed. "Is that really it? A few heirlooms and some glasses? We saved up half the budget for this challenge alone, and now you're telling me it was just for this?"

"Hey! What the hell do you think I am, huh?"

He looked up, and dropped his jaw in excitement.

On the opposite end of the magnet from where the other items were was Lorelei, machine and all, dangling haphazardly in the sky.

"Oh, sure, what a great idea, putting me on the show. Make some new friends! Explore the world! Get SENT FLYING BY A GODDAMN MAGNET! And you don't even have the common decency to notice that I was captured! God, you're all the same!"

"Not true at all," Isaac said. "We are twenty-one different organisms, specimens, individuals here, each with our own body. Not the same, not the same at all."

"Save it for later, Isaac," Sheba spoke. "We've got bigger things to deal with."

"Well… there ya go!" Chris announced, stifling a laughter. The Screaming Dumpsters must recover two pairs of glasses. The Killer Trash have a pair of shades, a saxophone, a coin, a stopwatch, and an… entire teammate!"

He guffawed alongside Chef Hatchet at the one-sided competition, landing on his foghorn that started the challenge for real.

"Uh… does anyone have any ideas?" Franky asked his teammates. "I mean, Lorelei's stuck on the magnet, so that's one thing we have to deal with. But from the looks of it, Raphael's fainted, and Louis…"

He stopped himself to glance at the jazzman, blowing weakly on a lone reed.

"Well, let's just say Louis isn't going to be much help. So, how are we going to do this?"

The hum of the magnet was the only sound heard.

"I guess it'd be pretty hard to climb, huh?" Jane signed. "And even if we did get up there, how do you suppose we could actually get it all down?"

"What about you, Tom?" Ellen asked. "You're pretty reckless, no offense, so I bet you'd be dying to try and climb up there."

"Ooh, I gotta give you props for the wordplay there!" Tom commented. "And believe me, I'd be halfway up there if I could, but there's not really an easy way to get up there. Without footholds or something like that, I'd just slide down as soon as I could get up there!"

The assassin frowned. "So we can't just brute force our way there. How about building a ladder, then?"

"The problem there ish shtrictly in the materialsh we would have to ushe," Howie said. "I mean, I'm shurprished all the metal shtuff on the ground ishn't being hoishted into the shky as we shpeak, sho if our creation ish alsho metallic in nature, we'd jusht be making our work harder than it hash to be!"

"I gotta say, he's right," Sammy intervened. "We shouldn't try and risk adding anything from the outside here."

"Great, then what the hell do we do?" Bastion asked. "If you think for a second I'm gonna sit here and let those losers walk all over us, you've got another thing comin'."

Howie snapped his fingers before turning up to the magnet. "Excushe me, Lorelei!"

"I told you not to talk to me!" the ice queen berated.

"Forget about all that!" Franky shouted. "We need to know if you have any ideas on how to get you down from there!"

"Oh, NOW you want my ideas, huh? Didn't see you asking me anything about flying machines last challenge, and you didn't even let me participate in the dive earlier! But now everything's so much different. Everybody's gonna rely on Lorelei now, huh? Well listen up, buster, 'cause I'm only gonna say this once: it's pretty damn hard to think when you're hanging upside down hundreds of feet in the air!"

Franky winced. "Okay, we understand all that. But we still need your cooperation here! Are you sure you can't see anything that could be used to help us?"

Lorelei gave a frustrated scream. "Weren't you listening, birdbrain? The last thing I can do is help from up here! And even if I could, I wouldn't, because you didn't bother relying on me earlier!"

"Lorelei, you were in a machine, so you couldn't climb the ladder, and you yelled at Raphael when he asked you if you had any advice."

"Now we're playing the blame game! Are you proud of yourself? Why don't you ask the guy who never talks for some advice while you're at it, Einstein? You're not changin' my mind anytime soon!"

The tall teen shook his head in defeat. "Anyone else have any ideas?"

The hum took over once again.