AN: The idea for this story came about while I was watching the show How to Get Away with Murder, specifically because there were no new episodes of the newest Total Drama season dropped online yet. (Which, funny enough, is likely going to no longer be the case once this is actually published.) I plan for it to be quite long, as it's going to cover an entire season of Total Drama, with flash-forwards of the eventual crime spread out, usually at the beginning and end of each chapter, until the time of the crime happens. Then, perhaps, we'll go into the future of everything as well, if I'm inspired to write more. Essentially, what this comes down to, is the aftermath of the years of trauma the Total Drama experience would have caused the show's contestants, until that reaches a boiling point. As I said, it'll be a season as well as the mystery and fallout, but the season aspect will certainly be taking a backseat to the building tension throughout the story. To that end, this story will contain at least one instance of the death of a fictional character, and I will (sadly) not be including the cast of the newest Total Drama seasons. Not only am I doubtful that I can write such new characters well, but I also feel a bit uncomfortable putting them in a story with murdery themes, as they'd still canonically be minors. Just figured a warning of such should be put out there. Now, without further ado, enjoy!
The half-moon bathed a pale light across the center of Camp Wawanakwa. A banner flew in the slight breeze, one end hanging from the doorframe of the Mess Hall, while the other flapped depressingly towards the ground. The camp's center was quiet, though the sounds of a celebration could be heard coming from the direction of the bonfire. The only discernible sound was that of crunching leaves getting closer to the building.
Duncan, his dyed green and black hair having fallen into a split down the center of his scalp, and sweat dripping down his temples, quietly brought one foot to the single step that led to the door. When the old wooden boards creaked beneath his boot, his eyes shifted back towards the bonfire. The silhouettes of a dozen people were visible in the dim, distant light of the flames. When he was certain he went unheard, he climbed the step fully, and opened the door. He was still slow, much more careful than he ever had been before around this camp. He slipped in when the opening was just large enough for his body to fit, then he closed it once more. Greeting him was Courtney, pacing back and forth on the wooden floor.
"Cut that shit," he scolded her, to which she froze and looked up to him, seemingly only now realizing he was there. "These floors are old as dirt. Any creak could tell someone we're here, and then everything would go to hell."
Courtney muttered something under her breath, then turned heel and walked towards the kitchen without a word.
"Is it in there?" Duncan asked, following her closely behind. "When I saw Gwen's text, I figured it had happened somewhere that isn't constantly occupied. Yet here we are. Stupid move, by the way, texting me about this. That's how they get you. And why won't you at least tell me who did it? I deserve to know that much."
"I'll have Cody take care of that evidence. He owes me a hundred times over," came a dull, emotionless voice from the other side of the curtain into the kitchen, before Courtney could answer any of Duncan's questions. When Courtney parted the cloth, the pair was greeted by Gwen, who stared blankly out the window towards the moon, even as she spoke. "I'll have him do the same to your phone. But not here. We have to wait until after."
Also in the room was Bridgette, who sat in front of the refrigerator, her head in her hands. Her eyes were wide as they locked onto Duncan's.
"And what do you mean, asking if this is where it is?" she asked, her voice shaky, and increasing in volume. "He's a person! Someone we all know! Someone that we need to call an ambulance for!"
"Sht," came a sharp shushing noise from the supply closet, as Noah came out with a spray bottle in hand. Then, he knelt down and started spraying a lemon-scented cleaner at a stain on the floor. "There's nobody to call an ambulance for, Bridgette. He's gone. Dead."
Bridgette, in a panicked state, put her hands over her ears at the words, as though they were echoing across the walls and would not stop. Still, she spoke in a loud whisper.
"What are we supposed to do, then? I mean, we all know this place. We practically grew up here. There are cameras everywhere. Especially in here, where everyone came to hang out and eat. So we're for sure caught, right?"
The closet door creaked as it was closed nearly fully shut, leaving only a sliver of space to see into the small room. Justin, cleaning his hands with a wet paper towel, walked from the door and continued to rub his hands clean with the tearing piece of paper. Then, once he was finished with it, he placed the piece in the drain and ran the water on it, with the intent of the paper towel disintegrating after a minute. Then, his hands now clean, he knelt down to Bridgette and removed her hands from her ears. He spoke to her quietly, trying to mask the anxiety in his own voice.
"Chris sent all the crew home. We have to assume that means nobody is in the camera room. We just recruit Gwen's little nerd into our newfound coverup club, and get him to work his magic on the footage."
He then stood up and looked to Gwen, to which the woman nodded.
"So what's the plan?" Noah then asked, still spraying over the same spot. He seemed fixated on the stained spot. "You called our resident criminal in here, now what are we going to do?"
"First, you're going to answer one of my questions from before," Duncan claimed firmly, his gaze turning to Courtney. "Who did it? Who are we covering for?"
Courtney glanced around the room. Each of the others were looking between themselves.
"We don't actually know," came the response after the long pause. "We wanted to get away from the party and grab some food. When the five of us got here, he was there."
She pointed to the floor where Noah knelt. He finally looked up from the splotch on the wood once it was sufficiently covered in the cleaning spray.
"We've all been through so much on this show, so we figured... why does it matter who did it? If it means all the shit we're going through finally end, anything is worth it. They'll definitely have to shut the island down once he's labeled as missing. Bridgette disagreed, but she got outvoted. We're not ratting someone we don't even know for certain out, for the 'crime' of slaying our demon."
"Giving us an even higher chance of getting caught for covering up a murder," Bridgette said, though Justin holding her hands relaxed her enough to where she didn't yell her words. Their eyes were locked, and Justin slowly nodded.
"That won't happen. Plus, even if it does, it's not like we're even really covering for anyone specific, as far as we know. Like Courtney said, it's not like we know who did it, right? Honestly?" he asked. When he looked around the room. Once again, everyone shared worried glances, but they all stayed silent. "Exactly."
Courtney nodded, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. "Obviously I have my reservations. We all do. Or, at least, most of us. I hope. But I can't stand the thought of someone going away for life, for finally snapping. Whoever it was, I'm sure they had their reason. God knows we all did."
She then turned back to Duncan, her droopy eyes fluttering open.
"So, you have your answer. That we don't have one. So what do we do?"
"That much is simple. We really only have two options," Duncan explained. He peered into the opening of the pantry. After a moment, his eyes locked on what he was looking for. "The first would be to burn this entire building to the ground, with it inside. But unless we're able to get out quickly enough and rejoin the party, that might be too obvious. We'd end up with way too much heat."
"Literally," Gwen said instinctively, her voice still fully monotonous. "What's the other choice?"
Duncan walked to the pantry, opening it and revealing a bloodied tarp covering a lumpy figure underneath. From the far end, a few clumped strands of black hair laid flat against the ground, sticking out from the covering.
"We take him into the woods. Bury him, where nobody will find him. Where he can't hurt anyone anymore."
Eight Weeks Earlier
Chris McLean stood atop the roof of the Camp Wawanakwa Mess Hall. He pointed below him, with his eyes locked to a camera whirring slowly down a zipline, to a banner that hung across the top of the buildings doorframe, which read 'Welcome Final Campers! He grabbed onto a rope, and slid down to the ground, his food pressing into one of the floorboards of the building's step, causing it to push in slightly. After a moment to regain his footing, he laughed.
"Well, if that isn't a way to ring in this season, I don't know what is! Yo, it's Chris McLean, coming to you from Camp Wawanakwa!" the hose announced, his arms outstretching towards the island around him. "Ten years, three generations of campers, millions of dollars won and lost, and it all comes down to this! I'm here to welcome you to the final season of Total Drama as you know it! And, of course, it'll end right where it started, at my favorite little summer camp!"
Chris hopped down from the step leading to the Mess Hall, and started on the path down towards the docks.
"That's right, folks! But don't worry, we're going to make sure this season is the best yet! Combining all my favorite aspects of every year of this show, to bring you one final season that's sure to knock your socks off!"
Chris swung around the podium at the bonfire pit, hugging the piece of wood. His signature grin crossed his lips.
"And you just know that means I'll be bringing back some of the best challenges yet! Things that'll test our campers to their very core, in their final bid at the one million dollar prize!"
The host strolled down the Dock of Shame, as a large boat approached the island. He rubbed his hands together, and turned around to face the coming campers.
"There will be backstabbing, heartbreak, and pain galore for every single one of them! And it'll all happen starting now, right here, on Total Drama Island!"
Chris took a deep breath as the camerawoman called for a cut. He ran his hand through his hair. He looked to the camerawoman and gave a slight sigh.
"I think I may finally be getting too old for this!" the host joked. "I'm out of breath after one little stunt and a monologue!"
"Don't be ridiculous, Mister McLean! You're as good as ever!" the crew member answered, to which Chris laughed.
"You, little miss, just earned yourself a holiday bonus!"
The boat slowly approached, and Chris fixed his hair once more. He was hopping on the balls of his feet, excited to get the season well and truly started. When he was called back to action, he slid back around towards the camera in one fluid motion.
"But, of course, what would a season of Total Drama be without the cast? As you at home know, we recently ran a poll on our website, allowing you to pick ten out of the sixteen contestants on this season! The other six were personally hand picked by yours truly, of course, for maximum drama!"
The boat slowed down as it pulled into the dock, and the metallic doors swung open. Standing in the doorway was Chef, who held his arm out to cover the people behind him.
"Of course, before you all can see the winners of the polls, I think I'll show off the six that I chose!" Chris announced, to which Chef finally stepped down from the boat, onto the dock.
"First, a camper from a season that, to my surprise, none of you voted someone in frum! But there's no way I could exclude them!" he went on, as a man stepped off of the boat. "We have the always-second-choice host, Topher! How're the gigs coming along, my dude?"
"Not great, since you adjusted my contract after Pahkitew-" he tried to answer quickly and angrily, to which Chris turned to the camera and motioned for them to cut, while holding up a hand to silence the other. The camerawoman nodded, and Chris turned back around. He leaned in to whisper to Topher.
"Just make it through this season without trying to ruin me, and the contract's done. Then, you're free to do whatever the hell you want."
Topher gave Chris a passive-aggressive side-eye, then forced a smile, and motioned for the camera woman to resume rolling.
"It's going great, Chris! Nothing's landed yet, but I'm sure being the winner of the last Total Drama season ever will change that."
"Bold! Well, it's your first time back since Pahkitew, so let's just see how you fare against more seasoned competitors, like my next two! From Revenge of the Island, and our first All-Stars season, we have Jo! And alongside her, Anne Maria!"
The pair stepped down from the boat side-by-side. Jo nudged Anne Maria once they stood in front of Chris, seemingly by accident, to which Anne Maria glared upwards at her.
"Hey, you two! There will be plenty of time for that once the season begins. No killing each other just yet!"
"Who said nothin' about killin' each other?" Anne Maria huffed. "It was just a look. Don't make nothin' of it."
"Does someone like you even deserve a look? Or to be here at all? I mean, you're a quitter! What good are you to the show at all?" Jo responded.
Chris rubbed his hands together, raising his eyebrows and shooting the camera a glance.
"Oh yeah, this is exactly why I chose you two to represent your season," the host chuckled, then motioned the pair aside. They stood in line with Topher as Chris once again motioned to the boat. "But, finally! The last three I personally chose, all major competitors in their own right, and sure to cause all sorts of conflict with the campers chosen by the fans! All the way from our first generation, but each having multiple seasons under their belt!"
Chris had to wait a long moment before the three figures stepped to the edge of the boat and into view, much to his annoyance. But he pushed that aside and continued his energetic speech.
"Coming from our very first season, it's Noah and Bridgette! And also, appearing for the first time in this pair's second season, the crazed super fan herself, Sierra!"
It then became clear what the slight delay was, as Noah was being pulled along by Sierra, with Bridgette walking along behind them.
"Do I really have to be here?" the man asked, his annoyance clear with every word. "Not like the fans wanted me. I thought I'd be doing something with Owen on some other show."
"Yes, Noah, you do have to be here!" Chris answered, trying to keep his enthusastic demeanor despite the annoyed twitch in his eye. He decided to just keep it rolling instead of causing another delay. "You and Owen will be reunited in eight short weeks, I promise. But for now, doesn't the idea of a million dollar prize excite you?"
Noah opened his mouth to speak again, but Chris interrupted him.
"Moving on! Bridgette! Sierra! How does it feel to be back on Wawanakwa?"
"You know me, Chris! I'm always happy to be here!" Sierra chimed in. "Especially because, this time, I've got someone special on that boat!"
"No spoilers, Sierra! The viewers will see who won their poll soon enough!" Chris announced, then turned his attention to Bridgette. "And what about you? You may have competed in other seasons, but this is your first time back at Camp Wawanakwa since season one! What's going through your head right now?"
"Well, at least now I know it isn't a real beach," she replied, the line seeming rehearsed and somewhat forced, but eliciting a chuckle from Chris nonetheless. "But I plan on winning this time, for sure! There's no way I'm going down to a dumb game of hide and seek again!"
"We'll see, won't we?" Chris announced. Then, once his six chosen were bunched together, he motioned for the cameras to cut.
"That's a good place to stop, while Chef goes and gets the voted-in contestants ready," he said, an intern rushing up to hand him a bottle of water. He undid the cap, drank half of it down rather quickly, then settled his gaze on the campers before him. "So, we're good, right? You all understand your place here?"
Noah spoke up, his tone still fully disinterested.
"You want us to, and I quote, 'Stir as much shit as possible.'"
"And you mean what you said? If the six of us do good, our contracts are done?" Bridgette asked, slipping her hands into her hoodie pockets. "No more seasons, even if the show picks you up again?"
"I've added that clause directly into your contracts for this season," Chris answered simply. "If I'm satisfied with your work, your contracts will end, even if we get picked up for more seasons."
"So, calling this your last season is probably bullshit, then?" Topher piped up. "Everyone else is going to get roped back in?"
Sierra glanced back at the boat, hoping that none of the other contestants were within earshot yet.
"I kinda feel bad for Cody..." she said, rubbing the back of her head.
"I don't feel bad for any of 'em," Anne Maria butted in firmly. "The sooner I get outta this show, the better."
Jo's expression was blank as she listened to this unfold.
"Alright, good. Just... let me be super clear about one more thing," Chris went on, his tone dropping to a gruff, hushed whisper. "If you out this to any of your fellow competitors, I will ruin you. Understand? Nobody knows the deal we have. Not a soul. The clause in the contract will be null-and-void, and when Total Drama gets picked up again, I'll make sure the six of you are front and center for a season where I drop the players into the middle of the ocean and leave you there. And, of course, the rest of the contestants on that special season will know you six are to blame."
"Not even trying to hide it anymore," Noah muttered, his eyes locking with Chris'. "All you care about is making sure there's as much drama as possible. Why?"
The other five turned fully to meet Chris' gaze. They were all curious as to why they were chosen for this specifically. The host grinned.
"I'm running out of ways to torture you all. So, I figured the next best thing would be to have a little group of you be responsible for some more... personal torment," he explained, putting his hand into the center of the group, like a sports team grouping together. He didn't speak again until they all, accompanied by his vicious glare, stacked their hands on top of his. "So do whatever you can. Find out their secrets, use them against them. Or, get them to love you, and break their hearts with betrayal. Pit them against one another. Make them hate each other if you have to. Just get the viewers hooked. I already know we're getting picked up for another season, but I need you six to make certain that the future of Total Drama is a long and intense one."
At Chris' lead, they threw their hands into the air, none too enthusiastically. Just then, Chef stepped to the side of the boat, leaning off the railing.
"They're ready."
Eight Weeks Later
Justin stood up from his kneeling position in front of Bridgette, pulling her to her feet and giving her hands a soft squeeze. She quickly wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his shoulder and muttering muffled words.
"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. He made us do these horrible things. He pushed me to get to know you, to distract you and cause issues with everyone else. I didn't know I'd actually.."
Justin quietly shushed her, and rubbed up and down her back. He gave her a moment to compose herself before pulling away. He brushed a hand through her hair, their eyes locked for that quick second.
"It's okay. He turned us all into the worst versions of ourselves. But he's gone now," Justin promised. As he went to speak more, he was cut off by the sound of the Mess Hall door creaking open, and closing swiftly behind whoever had entered. Soft footsteps crept towards the kitchen, and Gwen moved herself in front of the curtain to cut off the newcomer. As they tried to enter, Gwen poked her head through to the other side of the curtain, where the voice of Cody chimed up in a hushed whisper.
"I got your text. Though it was kind've cryptic... I'm just glad to be away from that party. What happened?"
There was a brief silence as guilt washed over Gwen's features. Was she really about to rope Cody into this mess, when none of them even had an answer to what started it? With a sigh, she understood that she had to.
"If I let you in here, you need to promise me that nobody learns of what happened here. Alright?" she asked of him.
"Yeah, yeah, of course," Cody hastily muttered, but he was snapped to attention by Gwen's sharp next words.
"Promise me!" she said in the most threatening whisper she could muster.
"I promise!" Cody replied in kind. Then, as Gwen parted the curtain so he could enter, he looked around at the other six.
Bridgette and Justin, hands linked, looked to him warily.
Noah stood at the sink, running his now near-pruny hands underneath the running water, and lathering them with soap every few seconds.
Courtney leaned over the counter, her tanned features having turned pale over the stress of what they were involved in.
And Duncan, who guarded the door to the supply closet. He eyed Cody warily, seemingly not trusting the nerd with this.
"Are you sure he's the one we needed to get involved?" he asked, backing himself up as to fully block the doorway.
"The only other option here would have been Sierra, and do you really trust the president of Chris' fan club to stay quiet about this? Plus, Cody owes me," Gwen went on, turning to the shorter man. "Don't you?"
"You can trust me," Cody argued firmly, possibly the most serious words they'd ever heard out of him. "No matter what happened, I'm the right choice. So spill it. What happened?"
"McLean's dead," Duncan answered almost instantly, satisfied with Cody's response to his skepticism. The expression of confusion that crossed Cody's face, however, he loved even more. Slowly, Cody's face contorted further into a look of fear.
"D-Did one of you..?"
"We don't know, and we don't care," Gwen answered him immediately, pulling him further into the room. "Though I'm pretty sure it wasn't one of us in particular. Justin found him like this."
The model's expression grew a little more grim as he was reminded of the scene he stumbled into. Then, he went on to explain.
"I was on my way to question Chris about the little club he apparently formed at the start of the season, with the students he brought on to stir shit amongst the cast," he muttered, squeezing Bridgette's hand at the mention of the group she was a part of. Of course, Cody ticked a brow in confusion.
"I had my own hunch during the season. It isn't difficult to get suspicious when the six people causing the most drama are the six hand-picked by our late host," he continued. For a moment, his eyes shifted to Bridgette. "I still don't know all the details, and I'm not going to pry for them. But I wanted to get information from the source. Then, I found him here."
He motioned to the lemony-foam-covered stain on the floor, which Noah had instinctively cast his gaze down to, before the bookworm returned to his eternal hand washing.
Justin could see the different questions run through Cody's mind, so he pressed on.
"Someone had taken a meat tenderizer to his head a few times. I'm no coroner, so I can't tell you how many times he was hit or anything like that. But I know whoever it was didn't stop until they were sure he was dead."
"Rageful," Bridgette muttered. "Whoever did this must have hated him."
"Didn't we all?" Cody asked, taking another couple shaky steps forward. His voice wavered, but his eyes showed determination. "So... now I'm here. I'm involved. Why?"
"We needed somebody to cover our technological tracks," Gwen sighed simply. "And you're the only nerd I trust."
"Oh, I'm honored," Cody chuckled, trying to make light of the situation, but his attempt fell flat. He nodded. Now that he knew his task, he tried to speak with a newfound air of confidence. "All six of you, give me your phones. I'll wipe anything that I can, while you take care of..."
He looked to Duncan, who backed into the closet and rummaged with the tarp-covered body. He tied the ends of the tarp tightly, and dragged it out. Then, his hands dug into his pocket, and he tossed his cell phone to the floor at Cody's feet.
"Alright. Game time," Duncan muttered, as the rest of the group also handed their phones to Cody. "Nerd, you get to wiping our shit. Justin, you're going to help me carry this thing to the old mine. The rest of you, get this place cleaned up. Any evidence could fuck us over. We only get one shot at this, so we need to do it perfectly."
Finally, the sound of running water came to a stop. Noah turned around from the sink, his fully pruney hands dripping water onto the floor.
"I guess I'm in charge of the B-Team."