Total Radical Island, a Pokémon + Total Drama series Crossover fanfic

Episode One: A Radical Experience!

A pair of massive mahogany doors swung open, pushed by large, furry paws, revealing a lavish but sparsely furnished room. The space felt cavernous, with only two cushioned chairs placed before a grand desk, behind which sat a well-groomed Persian cat. He stirred a steaming cup of coffee with a single sharp claw, his movements slow and deliberate. The tips of his ears were black, and a ruby-red gem gleamed prominently in the center of his forehead. Reclining in a black leather office chair, he looked every bit the picture of cool authority. The desk and the floor beneath it were crafted from the same rich wood as the imposing doors.

Persian's crimson eyes bore into the two figures standing before him, a hint of boredom flickering in his expression. He first studied the taller of the two: a broad-shouldered Ursaring with shaggy brown fur, a tan muzzle, and a ring-shaped marking on his chest. Despite his intimidating appearance, the bear wore an easy grin and casually tipped the brim of his red-and-white baseball cap.

Beside him stood a much smaller figure: a fox with fiery red-orange fur, accented by fluffier tan patches around her neck and the bushy tail swishing behind her. A messy tuft of fur crowned her head, and thin glasses perched on her nose, framing her sharp, dark eyes. Unlike her partner's relaxed demeanor, she radiated focus, as if ready to negotiate her way through a high-stakes deal.

"Ah, Ursaring and Flareon," Persian drawled, his voice smooth as silk. "I assume you're both aware of why you're here."

"Yes, Father—" Flareon began.

"Nope," Ursaring interjected cheerfully, speaking at the same time. The two exchanged a quick glance, with Ursaring offering a sheepish smile and Flareon rolling her eyes in exasperation.

"It was in the email Father sent last week," she muttered through gritted teeth.

"I forgot my password," Ursaring whispered back, leaning closer. "And what's the point of security questions? How am I supposed to know my ma's maiden name?"

"You set those questions when you created the account!" Flareon hissed, her voice sharp.

The bear only looked more confused, scratching his head.

As the siblings bickered, Persian chuckled softly. "It's fine. I'm well aware that Ursaring is... more in tune with nature than with modern technology."

Flareon bit back a retort, while Ursaring grinned.

"To summarize for him," Persian continued smoothly, "this company has been in the family for generations. Thanks to me, it thrives. And now, it's time for you two to take your places here—after your time in the world to 'find yourselves.'"

Flareon nodded curtly, while Ursaring yawned. When both their father and sister shot him sharp looks, he merely shrugged, scratching the back of his head. "Sorry."

Ignoring the interruption, Persian pressed on. "The company has decided to produce a new reality series. It'll be filmed on one of our private islands and follow a format similar to Pokevivor."

Raising a paw, Ursaring asked, "Isn't that... stealing?"

"I said similar, not identical," Persian corrected, though he muttered bitterly under his breath, "Not like that old fart of a mouse cares about anything outside his ego."

Flareon and Ursaring exchanged knowing glances as their father's eye twitched. Flareon raised a paw. "I have a question." She gestured toward Ursaring. "Why are you telling us this? He doesn't even work here, and I'm still an intern—despite doing all the work above my station."

A coy smirk spread across Persian's face. "Because you two will be in charge of the project as acting producers and hosts."

"Really?" Ursaring asked, while Flareon's jaw dropped.

"Yes," Persian said, pulling his claw from the coffee and licking it clean. "The board has already approved the name: Total Radical Island!" He delivered the title with what he probably thought was enthusiasm, though it fell flat.

His children stared at him in blank silence.

"What? It's... radical!"

Flareon's nose wrinkled in distaste. "Father, I'm sorry, but... how old is everyone on the board?"

"Don't be rude," Persian snapped, bristling. "This is a strategy to appeal to the younger generation!"

"Maybe the younger generation from the 1950s," Flareon muttered. Then, louder, she asked, "What about Total Drama Island? It's simple, catchy—"

"Boring!" Persian cut her off with a dramatic wave of his paw. "This is why you're still an intern, Flareon. You don't understand vision."

Flareon's ears flattened as she looked down. Ursaring, scratching his chin thoughtfully, offered, "I dunno, Dad. I think it's a pretty good name."

Persian clicked his tongue. "Hmm. I suppose there's a certain charm to it."

Flareon's brow twitched in frustration as she glared at her brother, who gave her a baffled look in return.

"Regardless," Persian continued, "we're sticking with Total Radical Island. Ursaring, you'll be the main host—the face of the show. Don't mess it up."

Ursaring saluted.

"Flareon, you'll be the co-host," Persian added.

The fox cringed. "Why am I not the main host?"

"Because he has the better personality for TV," Persian said with a shrug. "I know I wouldn't want to watch you for a whole season."

Flareon flinched but said nothing.

"Now," Persian concluded, "you have two months to finalize applications, plan challenges, assemble a crew, and refurbish the island. Don't embarrass the Bennet name."

"Yes, Father," Flareon sighed, while Ursaring nodded absentmindedly.

"Good." Persian gestured toward the door. "Now, go. I have work to do."

The siblings left the room without another word, Ursaring pulling the door shut behind them with a soft click. As they walked down the hallway, the bear chuckled nervously, trying to lighten the mood. "Seems like a lot of work, huh?"

Flareon didn't respond. She hadn't stopped glaring since they'd stepped out of their father's office, her intense stare practically burning a hole in the floor. It was clear she wasn't in the mood for his attempts at humor.

Ursaring swallowed hard, a strange knot of unease tightening in his chest. He shifted awkwardly beside her, finally deciding to break the heavy silence. "So… what should we do first?"

Flareon let out a sharp sigh. "I have calls to make and favors to cash in," she replied curtly. Then, after a pause, she added, "But we should focus on getting applications first. That's more of a waiting game than the other tasks, anyway."

Ursaring nodded enthusiastically. "Gotcha! So… how do we get people to apply?"

Flareon turned to him, her expression deadpan. "The best way to get desperate weirdos to sign up for a shady new game show no one's heard of…" She paused for effect. "The internet."

Ursaring blinked, his face scrunching in confusion. "Yeah, about that... I don't really get the internet."

Flareon groaned, pressing a paw to her forehead in frustration. "Of course you don't," she muttered, her scowl deepening.

The rhythmic thrum of helicopter blades echoed across the Whirl Islands, a misnomer for an expanse of violent whirlpools circling a single, lone landmass. The aircraft hovered above the abandoned island, its cameras scanning the surroundings.

The island was striking, a picturesque blend of nature's contrasts. A sprawling expanse of golden sand stretched far and wide, interspersed with towering palm trees and the occasional pine. A weathered wooden dock clung precariously to the shore, its rotting planks groaning with every whisper of wind. Above it all loomed a rugged mountaintop, its shadow cast over the crystalline waters below. But the cameras lingered elsewhere—on an oversized, half-finished building rising ominously from the heart of the island.

The helicopter's cameras pulled back to focus on the beach, where a figure sprinted toward the dock.

"Coming!"

Ursaring, an oversized bear Pokémon, stumbled but caught himself, laughing nervously. "Whoa! That would've been a disaster—tripping on live TV!" He waved at the camera crew with an awkward grin, his broad face sweating under the pressure of their judgmental stares.

Straightening his posture, he cleared his throat and glanced at the script in his large paws. "Uh, hey there, folks! Welcome to…" He paused, squinting at the page. "...Pudgy Pidgey Isle! I'm Ursaring, and I'll be your host for this wild adventure."

Behind the cameras, Flareon smacked a paw to her forehead. "Who wrote this garbage?"

Oblivious to her frustration, Ursaring soldiered on, his enthusiasm teetering between forced and genuine. "Live from the beautiful Whirl Islands, we're bringing you a high-stakes competition! Eighteen contestants will battle it out through grueling challenges, endure rough conditions, and face the ultimate test of survival—all for a chance to win one million Pokédollars!" He cringed at the word "radical" buried in the script but powered through.

With a dramatic flair, Flareon strode forward, snatching the script from his paws. "Let me handle this," she snapped before addressing the camera. "These contestants will endure the ultimate survival experience: harsh conditions, inevitable drama, and the gut-wrenching task of voting out friends and enemies alike. I'm Flareon, your co-host for the season, and we promise you a show you won't forget."

Ursaring shot her a sheepish smile, his earlier bravado deflated. "Yeah, what she said. We hope you all enjoy!"

Before he could say more, a distant hum caught his attention. Squinting, Ursaring shielded his eyes with his paws, forming makeshift binoculars. "Oh! Looks like the players are arriving now!"

The camera turned to the ocean, where a pristine white yacht cut through the waves. The double-decked vessel was abuzz with activity, Pokémon scattered across its decks.

Leaning against a metal railing, a large light-orange dragon held a coconut drink in one hand. He was slightly taller than the average for his kind, his broad frame adding to his imposing presence. A prominent jagged scar ran across his rounded snout—faded but still unmissable. His muscular arms rested on the railing, partially obscuring the tan scales of his underbelly. His greyish-green eyes gazed ahead, fixed on the vast ocean stretching before him.

The Dragonite sipped from his drink, his expression softening with pure awe as he soaked in the view.

Without warning, a newcomer landed gracefully on the railing beside him. Startled, the dragon turned to see an owl perched there—a Noctowl, to be precise. His dark brown feathers, accented with lighter streaks, gleamed as if freshly groomed. A cream-colored crest crowned his head, and his piercing red eyes, rimmed in black, surveyed the scene with disdain. He was slender to the point of appearing frail, but his sharp glare exuded confidence.

The Noctowl shifted slightly, catching the Dragonite's gaze. "Do you mind, old man?" he snapped, his tone as sharp as his glare.

"O-Oh, sorry!" Dragonite stammered, averting his eyes and forcing a sheepish smile. He fumbled for a response. "Uh… This is a totally… radical experience, huh?"

Silence.

Dragonite blinked, his smile faltering. He coughed awkwardly into his fist. "Y'know, getting to be on TV and all—"

"Are you still talking?" the Noctowl interrupted, his voice dripping with irritation. His glare sharpened, and Dragonite immediately clamped his mouth shut.

As the tension hung in the air, the strum of an electric guitar rang out nearby. The sound blared through an oversized amplifier, jolting both of them. The Noctowl groaned, feathers ruffling in frustration. Dragonite, on the other hand, turned toward the noise. Another contestant stood nearby, bobbing their head in time with a lively guitar riff, seemingly lost in their own world.

A butterfly-like figure hovered mid-air, their vibrant wings shimmering with a kaleidoscope of colors. Their large blue eyes, one adorned with a silver piercing above, gleamed with energy. They wore a light gray, tattered T-shirt emblazoned with the black-and-pink logo of a Blitzle's face, paired with a sleek black leather jacket. Strapped to their back was a black guitar case alongside a well-worn duffel bag.

The Beautifly shredded their guitar with practiced ease, their voice ringing out in song: "Ah-ah-ah-ah! My car is a flying snail- let's ride him far away, yeah," They leaned back dramatically, letting their wings catch the light as they continued: "To mermaid pools filled with puppies' drool, and centaurs pulling candy sleighs-"

"Bravo, yes, fantastic!" cheered a small, four-legged Pokémon. Their yellowish-tan skin gleamed under the sun, and their dark-gray, elliptical, shield-like face looked impeccably polished. The Shieldon clapped with genuine excitement, the light reflecting off their shiny exterior. "Great job!"

"Sweeeeeeeet, thanks, little man!" The Beautifly flashed them a grin, complete with finger guns. "I got some merch in my bag if you're interested. I can cut a sweet deal for a fan!"

"Thanks, but I'm only rich in handing out compliments!" the Shieldon replied with a cheerful laugh. Spotting another contestant floating by, they waved eagerly. "Oh, hello, stranger! I think you're doing a great job!"

The newcomer was a large, ghostly figure. His dark, ghoul-like form was primarily black and gray, accented with gleaming gold bands around his body and arms. His cylindrical head resembled a cyclops, with a single glowing red eye in the center, and six flat projections around his neck fanned upward like a collar. An oversized trench coat hung from his broad shoulders, partially concealing the face-like symbol on his torso.

The Dusknoir turned to the Shieldon with a deadpan expression. "I'm just floating."

"And you're doing great!" Shieldon shot him a thumbs-up, their sincerity unwavering.

The Dusknoir stared at the tiny fossil Pokémon, momentarily baffled by their relentless optimism. Unsure how to respond, he simply floated onward, his trench coat billowing slightly in his wake.

Walking nearby, a petite woman composed entirely of whipped cream strolled past the pair, animatedly chatting on her cell phone. Her body had a soft pink hue, with clumps of whipped cream resembling hair atop her head. Nestled within the creamy locks were small strawberries, while cyan hairbows adorned each side of her head. A bright pink bow, patterned with tiny black dots, rested prominently on the left side of her chest.

The Alcremie wore a wide, self-assured smile as she spoke into the phone. "Kenzie told me that only pretty people get on these shows, and since I got accepted, that means I'm officially the prettiest pink princess in the world! Like, who's cuter than me? It's no contest!" She glanced at another contestant as she passed, giving them a quick once-over before continuing. "Beauty is more than just appearances, you know, but let's be real—I check all the boxes."

The contestant in question didn't seem to notice the Alcremie's remark. Instead, she was entirely focused on watching someone else from a distance. She was a young woman of average height with a body in soft shades of sky blue. Though her exterior appeared hard and smooth, a few tufts of fur sprouted from her head, styled into bangs swept to the side. She wore several purple, polka-dotted ribbons: one atop her head, one on each arm, and a large bow on her chest.

The Nidorina sat tucked under the shade of a juice bar, her eyes fixed on another contestant in the distance. As she stared, someone nearby noticed her unusual behavior. "Are you okay down there?" a voice asked, breaking the silence.

Startled, the Nidorina jolted and slammed her head against the bar with a yelp. "Ouch!" she groaned, sliding out from under the counter and rubbing the sore spot on her head. Looking toward the source of the voice, she began, "Hey, a little war…ning…"

Her words trailed off as her gaze landed on the newcomer, her jaw dropping in surprise. He was a slim, light blue Frogadier with dark blue markings across the top of his head. Around his neck was a collar of white, foam-like bubbles that resembled a scarf, complemented by an actual red, cloth-like scarf wrapped just above it. A brown knapsack, held together with a single wooden rod, rested across his back.

The Frogadier raised an eyebrow, noticing her stunned silence. "Are you alright, miss?"

"I am now," she whispered before realizing what she had said. Her face flushed, and she immediately shook her head, cursing herself under her breath. "I mean, yeah! Yes. Totally fine! I wasn't being creepy or anything!" she stammered.

The Frogadier tilted his head, thoroughly puzzled. "Uh… okay?"

Nidorina cleared her throat and gestured toward the distance. "I was just scoping out the competition, and… I mean, come on, that doesn't look normal!" she exclaimed, pointing emphatically.

The Frogadier followed her gaze, folding his arms across his chest and humming thoughtfully. "Hmm…"

The two were fixated on another contestant lounging in one of the yacht's many colorful chairs. She was a small, pitch-black figure with an ovoid body, partially concealed by a yellow cloak outlined in orange. Her round, beady blue eyes were framed by a pair of tiny rectangular glasses, and she held a book in her stubby, circular hands.

Snorunt herself wasn't particularly unusual, seemingly just enjoying the large book in front of her. Standing near her, a twin-headed bird looked around in different directions. Each head had a long, sharp beak and a pair of beady black eyes. The left head wore a red scarf that had the name 'Pom' stitched into it, while the right head sported a green one with the name 'Perry' stitched into it. Their shared, fuzzy brown body balanced on long, light brown legs.

The Doduo tried to discreetly look over the ice-type's shoulder, in an attempt to see what she was reading. The right head, Perry, trying to peer from behind while the left head, Pom, looked from above.

"What'cha think she's reading there, Pom?"

"Not sure, Perry, but it's something boring that's for sure."

"If it's a solid novel it can't be that boring, mate."

"Will both of you quiet down," Snorunt hissed, causing the bird to immediately pull their heads away and stare forward.

"Sorry, boss!"

"Don't call me that here."

"Sorry b- Sorry!"

The bird promptly slammed both beaks shut, watching a much smaller man slithering toward the juice bar. He was a small, green caterpillar with a tiny backpack strapped to his back. As he crawled in front of the girl, he stopped and turned toward her.

"Um, hey" the Caterpie exclaimed, wriggling his body to try and get the ice-type's attention. "What kind of book you reading—"

"Don't worry about it," the Snorunt interrupted, snapping her book shut and fixing him with a sharp glare. Her tone was cold and firm. "Really. Don't. For your own good."

"...Okay, bye," the Caterpie muttered before slithering off as quickly as possible.

Watching the interaction from a distance, another contestant burst out laughing. He was a scruffy, unkempt primate who looked like he hadn't bathed in weeks. His appearance resembled a lemur, with a black upper body that gave the impression of a hoodie. His forearms and lower body were a dark bluish-gray, accented by white stripes on his thighs. His bright blue eyes glinted with amusement, and his short, bushy black tail twitched with each laugh.

The Grafaiai cackled obnoxiously. "Way to show the world how much of a dismissive sub you are, beta worm!"

The Caterpie shot him a venomous glare but said nothing.

As if on cue, another contestant joined in. "Oh, come on, you're not even going to defend yourself?" she taunted, holding up a recorder with a smirk. "You have the chance to say something now, or else you'll be forever known as… What was it again?" She turned to the Grafaiai with an exaggerated grin. "Ah, yes. A beta worm."

This new figure was a small, pink-bodied young woman, her most striking feature being the absurdly large blue hair that overshadowed her entire form. Her hair, split into thick pigtails, hung low to the ground, keeping her body suspended in mid-air. A small pink cap rested atop her head, and a necklace with a miniature model of a planet dangled around her neck.

The Caterpie rolled his eyes and slithered away, refusing to engage despite the Hattrem and Grafaiai laughing at him. Their laughter, however, abruptly ceased when a loud throat-clearing and the emergence of a large, looming shadow silenced the air around them.

Standing before them was a large sea otter, his sleek body primarily blue with a bluish-gray underbelly. A tan, spiked conch-like helmet adorned his head, covering part of his neck, and segmented armor encased his forelimbs, giving him an imposing appearance.

The Samurott raised a brow, his piercing red eyes fixed on the two troublemakers. Without a word, he flexed his arm, the muscles bulging with sudden and exaggerated force. A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as the pair stared in stunned silence.

Hattrem quickly cleared her throat and backed away with an awkward laugh. "I just remembered—I've got, uh… something really important to do… over there!" She gestured vaguely and hurried off.

Grafaiai rolled his eyes, muttering as he scrambled away, "Fine, go save your dumb boyfriend."

Samurott scoffed, returning to all fours. His gaze shifted toward where Caterpie had been. "Hey, are you alright—" He stopped mid-sentence, realizing the little bug had already disappeared. "Ah."

Samurott turned away with a shake of his head, though ss he walked, he nearly bumped into a wheelchair. He stopped abruptly and glanced down. "Oh, sorry about that, old timer."

The occupant of the wheelchair was an elderly avian resembling a condor. His faded red and black-tipped wings wrapped around his frail body, and his almond-shaped eyes peered faintly from beneath a long, slightly hooked beak. Two long, red feather crests extended from his head, though they drooped with age. The Xatu's face was lined with wrinkles, and his head drooped as if he were dozing.

The old bird stirred, his voice cracking as he muttered, "W-Who the hell are you calling old?"

Samurott opened his mouth to respond, but the Xatu cut him off with a soft chuckle. "I'm just kidding, you damn…" His words trailed off as his eyes fluttered shut again, and soft snores soon filled the air.

Samurott blinked, glanced around awkwardly, and decided it was best to inch away from the sleeping elder.

As he did this, he passed by another contestant, who was standing on the edge of the ship's railing, though she seemed to be staring down at the sea below.

She was a large insectoid-like green dragon. She had a pair of large rhombus shaped green wings that had a red trim to it. Her beady eyes were sheltered by a red cover over them and she had a long tail that swished through the air.

However, the most extravagant part to the dragon's appearance is the red and white puffy cape-like cloak around her neck, along with the large pointed crown above her head that looked to be made of solid gold, along with a similar colored chain around her tail.

Flygon called out to the water, "Are you certain you don't need any assistance?" After a few seconds, she added. "I am a king, I will gladly help you!"

From below, another contestant was currently swimming after the yacht. In particular, it was an orange weasel with long arms and stubby legs, which fit well considering her athletic build. She had blue fins outstretched from her arms as she held onto a yellow floatation sac, and a pair of twin tails that were spinning in place. The crest of fur atop of her head was styled forward in a mohawk.

"No can do! I'm gonna try and outspeed the boat!" The Floatzel shouted, as she was currently swimming through the whirlpool infested ocean. She was smiling all the while, looking as if she wasn't even breaking a sweat. "No pain, no gain!" She let out a boisterous laugh that was soon drowned by the ocean's water entering it, however it didn't seem to faze her in the slightest.

However, Flygon was in awe of this, it was pulled away from the crazy woman and over toward a giant pirate ship that had literally lifted itself from within the whirlpools through the use of dark purple ghostly energy emitting itself around the vessel. Atop of the ship, several Pokemon in tattered costumes cheered, though one in particular stood out, as she floated above the rest of the crew members.

She was a purple witch-cladded ghost with a large, pointed hat over her much smaller head, with a cloak-like body that looked to be somewhat tattered. She had a red bandana wrapped around her neck, a small skull pinned to her hat and a piercing on her lower lip. Beside her was a tattered bag floating in the same aura.

With a wicked, ear-piercing laugh that seemed to echo throughout the ocean, Mismagius sent a devilish grin toward the yacht ahead. "Ready the cannons, lads!"

At this point, the entirety of the contestants on the yacht had approached the edge of their vehicle, gawking at the ship in utter confusion, fear, and some admiration. Unfortunately, after hearing that last comment, Noctowl's eyes widened. "Did she say cannons?"

"What's that?" Dragonite asked, genuinely concerned and confused as he eventually began chuckling rather nervously. "I-Is that more hip slang you kids created?" Though at this point, multiple rusted, black cannons from the pirate ship were pointed directly toward them and his eyes shrunk. "Ooooookay. Maybe not."

"FIRE!"

On the shore of Pudgy Pidgey Isle, Ursaring, Flareon, and the rest of the production crew stared in dumbfounded shock. The ocean they were once staring at, that held a yacht full of potential contestants to play in their television show, had just exploded. The beautiful yacht was now nothing but a pile of ash and torn metal.

Pieces of the fallen ship and various torn bags and suitcases fell from the sky, landing in the ocean shores and on the island itself.

Ursaring, in particular, could not stop staring. "Did we just witness a murder?"

"...We rented that yacht," Flareon whispered, equally uneasy about the sight she had witnessed.

Ursaring glanced at the camera, forcing a smile. "We'll be right back…"

At that moment, bodies began falling onto the shore like rain, each landing with a thud. One particularly notable crash came from Hattrem, who smacked into the sand with an audible thud.

"Oh my Arceus, a dead body!" Ursaring exclaimed, pointing a trembling finger.

"Ugh…" Hattrem groaned, her voice muffled by sand.

"Oh, thank goodness, it's only half-dead," Ursaring sighed in relief.

Before anyone could fully react, the pirate ship made its dramatic arrival. It slammed into the barely-standing wooden dock, obliterating it into splinters. The Mismagius at the helm laughed triumphantly as her tattered crew joined in, their voices echoing across the beach. She floated down with ease, gripping a rope for dramatic effect and tipping her oversized hat to her crew.

"Thank 'ye, boys, for the quality entrance!" she declared, grinning wickedly. "That'll strike fear into their righteous little hearts! I'll be returning with the booty!"

The Pokémon on the ship cheered wildly, their tattered flag flapping in the wind. Meanwhile, the hosts of the show could only stare, slack-jawed, as more contestants dropped from the sky onto the beach like discarded luggage.

"What the actual hell…" Flareon whispered, her voice filled with disbelief.

Mismagius floated over to the pair of hosts, snapping the rope back with a smirk. "Good evening to 'ya. Now then—" She motioned to the cannons on her ship, which swiveled ominously to aim directly at the two. "Hand over the prize, and I won't blow 'ya into next week!"

Flareon froze, struggling for words, while Ursaring gulped audibly. Mustering his courage, he stepped protectively in front of his sister. "I-I… Okay!" He leaned closer, whispering (not so quietly), "Flare, I have no idea where it is, but I think our lives are worth more than a golden coin—"

"Please stop talking," Flareon hissed through gritted teeth before turning to Mismagius with a sharp glare. "We don't have it here. It's being kept safe for the finale."

Mismagius tilted her head, staring in awkward silence. "Oh." After a beat, she burst into laughter. "Well! This was quite the miscommunication, aye? Sorry 'bout that!"

Flareon looked visibly irritated, but before she could respond, a loud voice interrupted.

"Hey!"

Everyone turned to see Floatzel storming out of the water, dripping wet and glaring daggers at the ghost. "What the hell, lady?! Why'd you blow up the ship?!"

"Yeah!" several other contestants chimed in weakly, sprawled out on the sand like defeated warriors.

"I was winning that race!" Floatzel continued, jabbing a thumb at herself. "You couldn't have waited to nearly destroy everything until after it was over?!"

"She doesn't speak for us," Caterpie muttered from somewhere in the sand.

Mismagius shrugged, her smirk unfaltering. "What better way to put the fear o' me might into the hearts of 'ye landlubbers than to show I mean business, right?"

Floatzel's glare intensified as she stepped closer, her hands balled into fists. "I want a rematch. Your ship against me. First one to reach the random white buoy wins." She cracked her knuckles, her lips curling into a confident grin. "Unless, of course, you're too scared to take on a real challenge."

Mismagius raised a brow, her smirk growing wider. "Oy, is that a challenge? Well then, bring it, 'ya wily little—"

"Excuse me!"

Both turned to see Flareon, her eyes blazing with frustration. "This is my show! We're live on air! We don't have time for… whatever this is!"

"Pretty sure Dad said it wasn't your show," Ursaring muttered under his breath, earning a fiery glare that silenced him immediately.

"We are getting back on track right now," Flareon growled, ignoring her brother entirely.

Mismagius gave her an unimpressed look, then shrugged. "Alright, fine. Don't have what I wanted anyway." She began floating back toward her ship. "I'll leave 'ya to it—"

"Oh no, no, no!" Flareon barked. "Who said you could leave? You signed up for this!"

"To rob 'ya," Mismagius shot back. "Not to partake in your overproduced, televised slop. I'll come back when you're done recording and take the prize—and maybe a proper fight while I'm at it."

"You still owe us for that yacht," Flareon deadpanned.

"Yeah, good luck getting that from a pirate," Floatzel chimed in with a laugh. The fox twitched at her comment, but Floatzel continued, "Honestly, it's probably for the best she leaves. She can't handle real competition without her fancy boat and cheer squad. She'd be out first."

Mismagius froze mid-air, her smirk vanishing as her crew collectively gasped. Slowly, she turned back to glare at the unbothered weasel.

"Yeah, not the best thing to say to someone with cannons aimed at us," Ursaring muttered nervously.

Mismagius's expression twisted into a furious grin. "Oh, 'ya think I can't win without me cannons or me crew?!" Her voice grew louder with every word. "I'm the fear of the seven seas! The scourge of the docks o' Alola! The queen of pirates! I—"

"We're on a time schedule!" Flareon shouted, flames flickering along the edges of her fur.

Mismagius froze, seething with rage for a moment, before a smug grin returned to her face. "Fine. I'm in."

"There wasn't a choice. You signed a contract!" Flareon snapped, her flames flaring once more before she forced herself to calm down with a growl.

Ursaring, sensing the tension reaching its peak, turned toward the camera with a wide, forced smile. "And that's a great time for a commercial break!" With a wave of his paw, the screen cut to black.

The cameras panned back to the beachside, where the once-imposing pirate ship had vanished, leaving only faint traces of its chaotic visit. Most of the yacht's wreckage had been cleared, though a few stray pieces still bobbed in the distant waves, a haunting reminder of the earlier destruction.

The contestants stood in a weary line before the hosts, joined now by their newest and least-welcome member. Though alive and accounted for, most bore the marks of the explosion: charred fur, sand clinging to their bodies, and water dripping from their drenched forms. Their collective glare was fixed on Mismagius, who floated nonchalantly off to the side, completely ignoring their animosity.

Flareon, visibly calmer but still radiating quiet frustration, multitasked furiously. She tapped on an iPad with one paw while juggling two separate phone calls with the others, her sharp focus leaving no room for interruptions.

Meanwhile, Ursaring tried to salvage some sense of normalcy. He offered the group a sheepish smile, tipping his hat in a gesture of goodwill. "Howdy, everyone. I'm sure you're all, uh… very excited to be here—"

"No, we're not!" Noctowl interrupted, wincing as he cradled his wing. "I'm suing! My wing's broken! You're all paying for this!"

Flareon didn't even glance up from her devices. "Our nurse already checked you out. Your wing isn't broken."

"I wouldn't call that thing a qualified nurse!" the owl snapped indignantly, but his outburst was met with complete indifference.

"Thankfully, my guitar is still intact," Beautifly chirped, inspecting the instrument in one hand while clutching a bag in the other. A glimmer of hope lit up their face. "Oh, sweet! My merch—" The bag suddenly disintegrated into ash before their eyes. "Oh."

As Beautifly stared in silent devastation at the remains of their merchandise, Dusknoir—leaning on his arm with a bored expression—noticed Snorunt standing nearby. Her large book is still perfectly intact.

"How did that even survive?" Dusknoir asked, tilting his head.

Snorunt simply shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

Xatu, meanwhile, remained the only contestant completely unscathed. He lounged peacefully in his chair, still fast asleep as if oblivious to the mayhem.

Frogadier noticed and bowed his head in reverence. "This man was truly blessed with good fortune."

"No," Grafaiai corrected, rolling his eyes. "Grandpa teleported the moment those cannons were aimed at us." He gestured dismissively, oblivious to the stray Krabby floating toward him. "You know, like a total cowar—"

WHAM!

The Krabby slammed into the back of Grafaiai's head, cutting him off mid-sentence and sending him face-first into the sand.

As Grafaiai groaned and dusted off sand, Dusknoir observed the lemur with mild interest. Ursaring cleared his throat loudly, reclaiming the group's attention. "Ahem! Anyway! Welcome, everyone, to Total. Radical. Island!"

His attempt at enthusiasm was met with silence, save for a faint breeze that passed through. "Yeah!" he added weakly, trying again.

"Yeah!" Nidorina, Dragonite, and Shieldon cheered in unison, their energy standing in stark contrast to the rest of the group, who still looked thoroughly worn out from the earlier chaos.

"I want everyone here to take a good look at the folks around you," Ursaring said, sweeping his massive arms toward the contestants. "These are the competitors you'll be working with—and against—throughout the summer. All for a chance to win the grand prize: one million Poké!"

A mix of reactions rippled through the group. Some scanned the others warily, sizing up the competition. Others seemed excited by the chance to meet new people, while a few simply looked like they wanted a proper shower and a nap.

"To claim that prize, you'll face a series of challenges that may—or may not—test you physically, mentally, and emotionally," Flareon added, her tone flat but firm. Ursaring shot her a questioning glance, but she ignored him. "Your decisions will shape your fate in this game. Physical strength might help," she continued, earning a confident smirk from Floatzel and a nod from Samurott, "but mental resilience is just as crucial." Xatu snored peacefully in his chair, unbothered, while Snorunt flipped a page in her book. "And don't get too comfortable," Flareon warned, "because surprises will happen."

Alcremie bounced eagerly on her feet, chatting about ice cream flavors to no one in particular. Caterpie, meanwhile, fidgeted nervously, his gaze fixed on the ground.

"Once again," Ursaring chimed in, attempting to regain momentum, "welcome to Total Radical Island! We're thrilled to have all eighteen of you as the faces of this brand-new show!" He gestured toward a set of cobblestone steps leading to a wooden arch. Above it, the name of the show was displayed in bold, blocky letters, its bright colors shining in the sunlight. "And now, without further ado, let us show you around your new home for the summer!"

Any trace of excitement the contestants might have felt about the resort vanished the moment they arrived at the building. Standing before them was a five-story monstrosity painted in clashing shades of seafoam green and pastel pink, the colors slapped on as though by a blindfolded painter. Its age and neglect were painfully obvious.

The ground-floor windows were either shattered or boarded up with uneven planks of wood. Above, a large sign that once read Pudgy Pidgey Resort now spelled out a fragmented and laughable Pu-y Pi-e- Resort, thanks to missing letters. To the left of the building, a derelict pool area offered no reprieve—there were no lounge chairs, and the pool itself was bone-dry, its cracked surface coated in moss. A few unnaturally plump Pidgeys flailed helplessly inside, trapped in the grime as they pecked futilely at the edges.

"Welcome to your home away from home!" Ursaring announced, forcing a wide grin despite the hostile stares of his audience.

"Vintage!" Alcremie chirped, clasping her hands with delight. "Oh, this totally reminds me of when my gals and I went to Pokéstar Studios! The hotel we stayed at was, like, soooo classic and retro! The staff was ancient, but in a cute, feel-good way, y'know?" She giggled, continuing her story without noticing that no one was listening.

Snorunt squinted at the building, her tone flat. "This doesn't look 'vintage'. This looks like a lawsuit waiting to happen."

"The inside is much livelier," Flareon interjected, already walking ahead as if ignoring both the critique and the health-code violations. "Follow me."

The contestants exchanged wary glances but reluctantly followed her lead. As the twin glass doors slid open, they were hit by a glaring brightness—not sunlight, but the fluorescent glow bouncing off garish pink-and-green wallpaper. The paper, faded and peeling, only made the décor look even more dated.

The lobby was depressingly barren. A fuzzy pink carpet stretched across the floor, its edges frayed and stained. A dusty desk sat dead center, flanked by two bright green couches that looked as though they'd collapse under any weight. On one wall were two elevator doors and a stairwell entrance, while another door presumably led to the pool deck.

"This looks worse," Hattrem muttered, clicking her tongue as she examined every dusty corner.

"This is the lobby," Flareon declared, ignoring the comment entirely. "It'll serve as your main meeting point for any announcements."

Ursaring stepped in to elaborate, "Yeah! Challenges will happen every other day, so you'll get a day to rest and relax in between."

"Just one day?" Flygon asked, tilting her head. "I thought we'd get at least two, maybe to, you know, enjoy the island?"

"It's a competition," Pom replied dryly.

"Not a vacation," added Perry with a smirk.

"Unless you enjoy watching others crash and burn," the left head teased, earning a hearty laugh from his counterpart.

"Oh, you're so witty, brother!"

"Why, thank you, brother!"

Flareon cut the banter short with a curt tone. "As I was saying, this lobby is mostly a functional space. Feel free to lounge if you must, but its primary purpose is as an access point to the elevators and other areas."

"And the cafeteria!" Ursaring chimed in, pointing excitedly to a door on the right. "If you get hungry, head through there. Our chef has all sorts of cool stuff for you to chow down on!"

"Yes, we'll get to that after the tour—" Flareon began, only to be interrupted as Ursaring whistled cheerfully and marched toward the cafeteria door. The contestants immediately veered after him, their curiosity outweighing any lingering doubts. Flareon's ears flattened in irritation as she trailed behind the group, her tail flicking with barely contained annoyance.

The contestants stepped into the cafeteria, and to their surprise, it looked far better than the lobby. The fuzzy carpet was gone, replaced by wooden floors, though several scratches marred their surface. The room itself was spacious, with white, rounded tables scattered throughout. At the front of the room stood a counter, behind which loomed a large, imposing figure.

He was a broad-shouldered, armored being with a machine-like appearance. The teal armor that encased his body bore yellow sword emblems on his shoulder blades and hands, and a jagged, yellow crack ran down the center of his chest like lightning frozen in steel.

"This is Golurk, our chef," Ursaring said, patting the armored man's hand with an enthusiastic grin. "And a damn good one at that!"

"Hey there," Golurk greeted, raising a massive hand in a wave. He pulled out a first-aid kit, adding nonchalantly, "I'm also a bonesmith."

"T-That's the weird nurse who told me my wing wasn't broken!" Noctowl squawked, glaring at him in accusation.

Flareon looked unfazed, glancing up at Golurk with an air of boredom. "Right. He also happens to be our nurse. So, if anything serious happens to you, just go to him."

Samurott's expression darkened with concern. "Is he even licensed to do this?"

Golurk tilted his head, his featureless, armored face making his expression unreadable. "I made sure to take a test for it!" He scratched under his chin. "Does 58% count as passing?"

Before anyone could respond, Flareon quickly interjected, "Anyway! This is where you'll come for meals. Golurk serves breakfast, lunch, and dinner at specific times. If you miss those slots or still feel hungry, there are snacks like chips and pastries to tide you over."

"We've also got a vending machine!" Ursaring chimed in, pointing a claw toward a dusty, ancient-looking machine tucked into the corner of the room. It looked like it hadn't been touched in decades. "...Can't guarantee the stuff in there's still good, though. We've never cleaned it out."

"Noted. We're not touching that," Caterpie declared with finality.

"I've never seen one of those strange machines before," Frogadier remarked, tilting his head in curiosity.

"Really?" Beautifly asked, giving him a perplexed look.

Flareon cleared her throat to regain everyone's attention. "Since we've decided to check this out early, we can now move on to the next part of the introduction—"

A collective groan rose from the group, drowning her out.

"Come on, we just want to get to the cool challenges!" Floatzel complained.

"Aye," Mismagius muttered dully. "I could've swindled another poor soul by now."

"I know it's a lot," Ursaring said with an awkward chuckle, trying to ease the group's irritation. "But it's important to go over this stuff to keep everyone safe and, uh… informed. Probably."

Flareon rolled her eyes but remained composed. "If it's any consolation, I think you'll enjoy this next part."

"I believe you!" Shieldon said, his words dripping with pure, earnest sincerity. The sheer positivity radiating from him made Dusknoir shift uncomfortably.

"There are four floors in the building—five if you count the rooftop, six if you count the lobby," Flareon began, her voice drawing the contestants' attention. "The first floor is the staff floor. You're not allowed in there, and you can't access it without a key card anyway."

"It's basically a master key that can open any door," Ursaring grinned, then blinked. "I'd show you mine, but... I don't remember where I left it."

"Hmmm, interesting," Grafaiai muttered, twiddling his fingers with a devious grin. "And where might we-"

"No," Flareon replied flatly, earning an exaggerated scoff from the primate. "Moving on. The second and third floors are the guest rooms—your rooms for the rest of the summer, or however long you manage to stay here."

"The second floor is for the guys, and the third floor is for the ladies," Ursaring added with a nod. After a moment, Flareon nudged him. He looked confused for a second, but then mumbled, "Oh, and uh… If you don't fall into either category, you can choose whichever floor you prefer."

"Sweet," Beautifly said with a smirk.

"Thank you!" Shieldon chirped enthusiastically.

"Each room has two beds and a bathroom," Flareon continued. "You'll be sharing with another contestant from your team."

"Ew, sharing," Noctowl shuddered, then suddenly froze. "Wait, did you say teams?"

Ursaring grinned. "That's right! To kick off the competition, we're splitting you into two teams of nine."

The group exchanged puzzled glances. Samurott and Nidorina seemed the least surprised, with the latter rolling her eyes. "Why are you all acting so shocked? Every game show like this starts with teams!"

"It's supposed to be an individual game," Hattrem said, inspecting her nails. "Why bother with teams?"

"Because the challenges aren't just physical," Flareon replied, locking eyes with the psychic. "If you want to win the prize money, you'll have to prove you can tackle anything we throw at you."

"Oh, like life!" Dragonite exclaimed brightly, earning a few sidelong glances. "You know what they say—when life gives you lemons, make lemonade!"

"Sure" Flareon replied dryly, drawing an eye-roll from the otter. "When I call your name, gather to my left."

"Samurott," she began. The sea otter strode forward confidently. "Grafaiai." The lemur chuckled as he sauntered after Samurott. "Shieldon." The dinosaur beamed and skipped over.

"Mismagius," the ghost floated forward with a silent nod. "Flygon." The dragon adjusted her cape, straightened her posture, and confidently stepped forward—nearly tripping, but recovering just in time. "Xatu." The elderly bird cooed softly as he wheeled himself forward.

"Doduo." The twin-headed bird exchanged glances before shrugging and stepping forward. "Frogadier." The frog disappeared in a puff of smoke, only to reappear beside his team moments later. "And Nidorina." The poison-type practically sprinted over, squealing in excitement.

Ursaring clapped his hands. "Alright, the nine of you will proudly be known as... The Flying Magikarp!" He grinned, clearly proud of himself, though the team's unenthusiastic expressions suggested otherwise.

The newly formed Magikarp exchanged glances. Doduo gave Grafaiai a skeptical look as the lemur yawned obnoxiously. Flygon clutched her cape, inching away from Mismagius, who smirked in amusement. Frogadier puffed out his chest at Samurott, earning a bemused chuckle from the larger otter. Nidorina stared at the water-types in fascination, while Shieldon attempted to strike up a conversation with Xatu, who ignored him entirely.

Flareon turned to the remaining contestants. "To the rest of you; when I call your name, step to the opposite side."

"Hattrem." The psychic strutted forward with a smug smile. "Caterpie." The caterpillar slowly squirmed over. "Floatzel." The weasel grinned and fist-pumped the air.

"Beautifly." The butterfly strummed their guitar with a smirk. "Dusknoir." The ghost floated forward nonchalantly. "Noctowl." The bird rolled his eyes but stepped up.

"Dragonite." The dragon beamed and walked over. "Alcremie." The cream twirled, skipping as she rambled about cereal colors. "And Snorunt." The ice-type silently walked forward.

Ursaring spread his arms. "You nine are... The Sinking Feebas!" His enthusiasm fell flat against the group's indifference. "Oh, come on, that was a good one!"

Like the Magikarp, the Feebas team sized each other up. Alcremie glanced toward Caterpie, who looked visibly annoyed. Beautifly strummed a few chords, impressing Dragonite enough to clap along. Floatzel flexed an arm at Hattrem, who touched it with an impressed nod. Dusknoir floated quietly, side-eyeing Noctowl, who muttered to himself. Snorunt shut her book, clearly expecting things to move along.

"Now that everyone's settled into their teams," Flareon began, drawing the group's attention, "it's time to give you your room keys and let you settle in for the night."

"Oh, that sounds wonderful," Flygon said dreamily.

"After we show you one last room," Flareon added, prompting groans. "It's on the fourth floor. Follow me to the elevators—"

"Uh, sis," Ursaring whispered, interrupting her. "I don't think the elevator can handle this many people at once."

Flareon glanced at the crowd, inhaled deeply, then sighed. "Alright, everyone, split into groups of five. We're doing this the hard way."

A sharp ding echoed as the golden elevator doors slid open, revealing a visibly grumpy Flareon flanked by the cast. The group stepped out of the cramped space and made their way toward the rest of the cast, who stood to the side with Ursaring, gawking at their surroundings.

The room they had entered was worlds apart from the mishmash of pastel colors on the previous floors. The carpet was sleek and brand new, jet black in color, contrasting sharply with the bright red and gold wallpaper adorning the walls. In the upper-right corner stood a bar stocked with a dazzling array of name-brand drinks—everything from sparkling water to premium alcoholic beverages, all lined neatly on a shelf behind the polished counter. Across from the bar, a long black leather couch and matching wooden dining table faced an oversized plasma-screen television flanked by two tall cylindrical speakers. Below the TV, a collection of video game consoles, games, and a DVD player sat neatly arranged.

To the lower-left side of the room, just across from the contestants, a bubbling hot tub hummed invitingly, while a pool table stood nearby, accompanied by a dartboard and a set of darts.

As the group continued to marvel at the luxurious setup, Flareon smirked. "Welcome to the winner's lounge." Her words seemed to drift past them as they remained engrossed in the room's every detail. She continued, "If your team wins a challenge, you'll not only be safe from elimination but will also gain exclusive access to this room. Lose, and you're locked out. Consider it an extra incentive to give it your all."

"We even have Wario Kart!" Ursaring chimed in, holding up a brightly colored game case with a grin. "And we'll keep adding more cool stuff throughout the season, so there's even more to look forward to!"

"Ohohoho, you're all going down," Grafaiai chuckled darkly, his fingers twiddling together as a wicked grin spread across his face.

"Do we get access to this room before the first challenge?" Beautifly asked, her wide eyes fixed on the impressive speakers. "Y'know, just to try out the perks?"

"No," Flareon said bluntly, her response eliciting groans of disappointment. "And with that, the tour is over—at least for now. You can grab your room keys and settle in before we call you again."

Flareon held up a stack of rectangular, bright-blue cards adorned with a picture of a pudgy Pidgey. Before anyone could step forward, Ursaring interjected, "Oh, and remember—each room has two beds, so you'll need to pair up with a buddy."

Flareon nodded, adding, "Since your teams have an odd number of members, one person from each team will get their own room. So... choose wisely."

The cast exchanged uncertain glances, until Caterpie let out a small sigh. "We barely know each other. How are we supposed to pick?"

"Trust your gut," Flareon replied flatly, making the bug-type flinch. "You're adults. It's only for the summer. It's not like we cast any serial killers." She paused, her gaze narrowing as it swept over a few of the contestants. "At least... I'm pretty sure we didn't."

"W-Wait, what?!" Dragonite yelped, his alarmed tone earning a few wary chuckles from the group.

Flareon exhaled sharply. "We're on a schedule, so either pick your roommates now, or we'll pick for you." Her tone left no room for argument, and the contestants reluctantly began glancing at one another, weighing their options with a mix of suspicion and uncertainty.

The elevator dinged, its golden doors sliding open to reveal an exasperated Noctowl trailing behind his new "Feebas" teammates. Dragonite and Dusknoir stepped into the dimly lit hallway, Caterpie perched on the latter's broad shoulder.

The corridor was depressingly barren. A faded pink carpet stretched along the floor, while peeling green walls betrayed years of neglect. A few wall-mounted lamps struggled to illuminate the space, and a single window sat at the far end of each hallway, offering a dismal view of the outside.

"Stop pouting," Dusknoir sighed, glancing back at the irritable owl. "I picked Caterpie fair and square."

"Actually," Caterpie interjected, his voice barely above a mutter, "I asked Dragonite to room with me, but apparently that wasn't an option." He paused, waiting for acknowledgment, but none came. "...Cool. Guess I'm invisible."

"I'd make a great roommate," Dragonite chimed in, his tone deflated by the disinterest around him. "I mean, I snore a little, but-"

"Stop. Talking." Noctowl hissed, his glare silencing the dragon instantly. "I wanted the worm because he seemed like the least annoying creature in this group."

"Thanks, I guess," Caterpie deadpanned.

Dragonite scratched the back of his head, glancing between Noctowl and Dusknoir. "Why don't you two just room together, then?"

"That would be a nightmare," Dusknoir replied coolly, turning his lone eye toward the dragon. "About as bad as bunking with you."

"…I have board games," Dragonite offered weakly, as if it were a consolation.

Rolling his eyes, Noctowl flapped toward one of the rooms. "Whatever. I'm taking a long shower. Don't bother me."

"I'll just… get settled in," Dragonite chuckled awkwardly, trailing after the bird.

Caterpie watched them go, then sighed. "That guy's a total dick."

"Mmhmm," Dusknoir replied absently, already searching for his own room.

Another elevator ding signaled the arrival of the Magikarp men. Frogadier stepped out first, dutifully wheeling Xatu, who looked as stoic as ever. "Don't worry, sir. I'll take care of your every need!" Frogadier declared, brimming with determination.

Xatu turned his head, unimpressed. With a faint pink glow, the bird used his psychic powers to maneuver his wheelchair backward—crushing Frogadier's toes in the process.

The frog winced but suppressed a pained growl, bowing his head in apology. "I'm sorry for overstepping, sir."

"Meh," Xatu grunted, rolling himself toward their room.

Straightening, Frogadier's expression shifted to one of determination. He hopped after the bird, ready to assist.

"Psst. Hey," a voice whispered.

Frogadier paused, glancing back to find Doduo approaching, their twin heads glancing around conspiratorially before focusing on him.

"Want to swap roommates?" Perry asked eagerly.

"We'll take the grumpy grandpa off your hands," Pom added, nodding toward Xatu. "Looks like you two got off on the wrong foot—literally." It gestured to Frogadier's swollen toe.

Frogadier bowed. "Thank you for your concern, but I must atone for my earlier mistake." His voice was resolute. "I will stay with him and offer my sincerest apologies."

Doduo blinked, then exchanged a look between their two heads before turning back to the frog. "Okay, we don't actually care," Perry admitted with a scoff. "We just don't want to deal with our own roommate."

"He smells," Perry whispered, shuddering. "Saying he smells like shit would insult shit. It's indescribable. The stench is vile."

"Apologies," Frogadier repeated with a curt bow, before disappearing in a puff of smoke.

Doduo groaned in unison. Spotting Samurott and Shieldon at the end of the hall, they called out desperately, "Wait! Do you two want to swap roommates?!"

Samurott promptly slammed his door shut, locking it for good measure.

"Blasted!" Pom groaned. "How dare they ignore us?"

"To be fair, brother," Perry murmured, "I don't blame them."

A loud crash erupted from a nearby room. Both heads twisted toward the sound, where an open door revealed a chaotic scene: blankets, a curtain, and even a nightstand being hurled into the hallway.

"Hell yeah!" Grafaiai's voice rang out, followed by his cackling laughter. "I'm making a blanket fort! Not like anyone else needs these or anything!"

Doduo sighed heavily and trudged toward the chaos. "Leave?" Perry suggested.

"Leave," Pom muttered, allowing his shared body to backtrack away from the room and toward the elevator.

Flygon and Nidorina stepped into their room, their eyes sweeping over the cozy yet simple space. The pale pink wallpaper paired with a green carpet gave the room a quaint charm. Two neatly made beds sat on opposite sides, each adorned with clean white sheets, fluffy pillows, and green comforters. A single window with pink curtains allowed soft light to filter in, and each bed was accompanied by a small nightstand. On one side of the room, two doors stood—one leading to a compact bathroom and the other to a closet.

"Wow, this is pretty nice," Flygon remarked, sitting down on the nearest bed and testing its softness with a bounce.

"Meh. A little too nice," Nidorina said, leaning casually against the wall. She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. "In Pokevivor, they have to build their own shelters. It's way cooler. Being stuck in an abandoned resort with cushy rooms like this? It's too pampered for my taste."

Flygon raised a brow. "You'd rather not have a roof over your head?"

"Exactly!" Nidorina exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. "Victory feels sweeter when the conditions are brutal! That's when you really earn it."

Before Flygon could respond, a playful voice called out from the hallway. "Oy!" Both turned to see Mismagius floating in the doorway of the room across the hall, a mischievous grin plastered on her face. "Are ye two sure none of ye want to bunk with me?"

"Nope!" Nidorina answered cheerfully, shutting their door with a decisive click just as Mismagius let out an amused laugh. Leaning back against the door, Nidorina grinned at Flygon. "You know, we totally lucked out having her on our team."

"Really?" Flygon asked, her brow furrowed in uncertainty. "I'm… kind of scared of her." She cleared her throat, sitting up straighter. "Even kings are afraid of pirates who almost destroy their kingdoms, after all."

"Exactly!" Nidorina said, as if this only proved her point. "She's already made herself such a target. Everyone's annoyed by her! So, if we lose a challenge, we've got an easy vote-off ready to go."

Flygon tilted her head, her expression softening. "Oh… well, when you put it that way, I guess that makes sense."

"Right?" Nidorina's grin widened. "I've got some pretty cool theories about the season already. Maybe even a few sorta-confirmed ones." Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, and she leaned in closer. "Like, did you know Samurott was in another game show before this one?"

"Really?" Flygon gasped, her wings twitching with intrigue.

"Uh-huh," Nidorina continued, her voice hushed. "It was years ago. That show got canceled halfway through filming, and all the footage and info about it was wiped from the internet. Every contestant signed an NDA, so no one's ever talked about it publicly. The whole thing's a mystery."

Flygon's eyes widened. "How do you know Samurott was part of it?"

Nidorina smirked, her expression sly. "I've got my sources." She extended a hand to Flygon. "Stick with me this season, and I'll show you how to win these kinds of shows."

Flygon glanced at the offered hand, a small smile spreading across her face as she clasped it with her claws. "I'm King Flygon."

"Nidorina," she said with a toothy grin. "This is going to be an awesome partnership, roomie!"

Entering her room, Snorunt went to close the door, though just as it was about to close, a large blue pigtail wedged itself in the gap, stopping her. Snorunt's brow twitched in annoyance as she looked up to see Hattrem standing there, flashing an overly saccharine smile.

"Heeeey," Hattrem greeted, moving her hair out of the way and leaning casually against the doorframe. "I know you got lucky with a solo room, but I was wondering—"

"No," Snorunt interrupted flatly, slamming the door shut and locking it before the psychic-type could finish her sentence.

Two minutes later, a persistent knock echoed in the room. Snorunt promptly ignored it until it happened once again.

With a roll of her eyes, the ice-type walked toward the door and pulled it open with a notable glare on her face. However, instead of the annoying psychic, she was met with two fuzzy brown heads staring down at her.

"Heya boss," Perry greeted, earning a bonk to the head by his brother's own head. "Ow! What was that for!"

"She told us earlier not to call her that, you dope!"

"Don't call me a dope, you d-"

"Get in here before you cause a scene," Snorunt demanded, pulling the much taller bird in and causing them to squawk in response. Slamming the door shut, she turned to glare at the twin-heads. "Why are you here?!"

"Our roommate is awful," Perry whispered, glancing around as if said roommate could be near their vicinity. "We needed an excuse to get away."

"Plus we needed to rethink the game plan," Pom grunted. "The money ain't here."

Snorunt walked to her bed and sat on the edge of it, rolling her eyes. "Obviously."

"Then how do we steal it?" Perry questioned, twisting his head around. "I don't want to actually have to sleep in the same room as that brute-"

"Well too bad, because we're staying here for the long haul," Snorunt instructed, narrowing her gaze at the bird. "You're going to help me win the money now."

Doduo glanced at each other, before turning to give the smaller woman a quizzical look. Pom spoke up, "How can we do that if we're on different teams?" The ice-type gave him a flat look. "Oh. Sabotage."

"Sabotage," his brother agreed.

"Make sure to gather information as well," she added. "With information on everyone, it'll make winning this game and the money all that more obtainable."

"Boss, how can we sabotage without properly uh getting kicked off?" Perry questioned with a grimace. "The other lad's would surely catch on eventually."

"Figure it out," Snorunt stated, already grabbing hold of her book and opening it. "Now, leave me be and be discrete. We don't want anyone knowing of our little alliance."

Doduo looked uncertain but slowly nodded and backed away. "Okay, boss." With one last look toward the ice-type, they promptly exited the room with a click of the door.

Beautifly carefully placed a framed picture of themselves with a Dustox on the nightstand, then stepped back to admire their side of the room. A poster of their band adorned the wall, and their guitar rested proudly on its stand in the corner.

"You really lucked out getting me as a roommate, dude," the butterfly said with a grin, turning to face their roommate. "I'm gonna be famous one day." Their voice trailed off as their gaze landed on the assortment of belongings scattered across the other side of the room. Their eyes widened in disbelief. "I-Is that seriously what you brought with you?"

Floatzel, mid-lift with a four-weight barbell, paused and gave the bug a puzzled look. "What? No," she said, setting the barbell down. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a half-empty bag of potato chips. "I brought snacks too! Kinda ate most of 'em on the way, though." She popped a chip into her mouth and chewed while continuing, "Did you know swimming makes you hungry? Crazy, right?"

Beautifly tilted their head but eventually shrugged it off. "Okay… Anyway, I've got a question for you."

"Shoot," the weasel said through another mouthful of chips.

"Why'd you use reverse psychology on that crazy pirate chick?"

"What's that?" Floatzel asked, crunching loudly.

"Reverse psychology," Beautifly repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Like when you told Mismagius she probably wouldn't do well, and it made her stay just to prove you wrong. You could've gotten rid of competition, but instead, you hit her ego and now she's still here!"

Swallowing the chip, Floatzel rubbed the back of her head with a sheepish grin. "Oh, that? I wasn't trying to play mind games or anything. I just said what I felt. Good on her, though—maybe she'll actually toughen up now."

Beautifly laughed. "Yeah, maybe don't say that to her face. She is still a criminal, you know. She threatened to kill the hosts for money. Heck, she almost killed us!"

"True, but I've got something she doesn't," Floatzel said with a grin, tossing the empty chip bag onto the floor. She twisted her body into a dramatic flex. "Muscles!"

Before Beautifly could respond, a knock echoed at the door. It swung open to reveal Hattrem, who poked her head inside. "Yoohoo!" the psychic called out, her eyes lighting up when she spotted Floatzel. "Did I just miss my chance to admire those gorgeous biceps?"

"If you ever wanna check 'em out, just ask, dude," Floatzel replied, smirking as she flexed an arm. "I could even help you tone those noodle arms of yours."

"Aww, how sweet," Hattrem cooed, walking in and brushing past a bewildered Beautifly. She sidled up to the weasel and traced her fingers along the flexed muscle. "Sadly, I don't think my body's cut out for being this muscular~"

Beautifly watched in disbelief as Hattrem wrapped her long arms around Floatzel's bicep, giggling. Floatzel, oblivious to the flirtation, frowned in confusion. "Really? I mean, with enough work, anyone can get a rad bod. I saw this super buff Cleffa at the gym once—crazy, right? Like, aren't Cleffa supposed to be babies? Can babies even be buff?"

As Floatzel pondered the absurdity of her revelation, Hattrem giggled, tracing little patterns on the weasel's arm. "Oh, you are a funny one!"

"Uh," Beautifly interjected, clearing their throat and gesturing toward their guitar. "Not to break up the moment, but is there a reason you're here? Maybe to listen to my music or plan potential concert dates?"

"Oh, no, I just wanted to swap roommates," Hattrem said, pulling away from Floatzel and turning to Beautifly. "Alcremie's been going on for twelve minutes about singing furniture and how her best friend's dad might be a serial killer. I'm over it. I want to room with Floatzel."

Floatzel blinked, glancing between them. "I don't really care," she said with a shrug.

Hattrem grinned triumphantly, but Beautifly crossed their arms and smirked. "Nah, I'm comfy over here."

"Ugh, it was worth a shot," Hattrem muttered, clicking her tongue. "Unless… I pay you?"

Beautifly shook their head, undeterred.

"Why not just room with Snorunt?" they suggested. "She's got the spare room."

"I tried!" Hattrem huffed. "I followed her to her room and asked, but she slammed the door in my face! So rude!"

"Maybe she really had to use the bathroom," Floatzel offered with a thoughtful nod.

"Doubt it," Hattrem replied, examining her nails.

The three stood in awkward silence until a familiar voice called out from next door, "Roomie?! Where are you?"

Hattrem groaned and facepalmed as Beautifly and Floatzel chuckled. Before they could say more, the intercom buzzed to life.

"Contestants! Please meet us at the beach as soon as possible!"

Once the contestants stepped outside the resort, they were taken aback by how dark the sky had become. What had been bright blue skies earlier was now an orange sunset, with a few stars beginning to peek through the changing hues of the sky.

But the sky wasn't the only surprising sight. Down at the beach, the contestants were greeted by an unexpected scene—a full-fledged party. Various tables were laid out with food, snacks, and drinks, all set against the beachside. A welcome banner, flanked by half-inflated balloons, hung above the cobblestone steps, and music thumped from a single stereo, filling the air. The most eye-catching feature, however, was the volleyball court set up in the middle of the beach, surrounded by lounge chairs offering a perfect view of the ocean.

Golurk stood by the tables, flanked by two unfamiliar faces: a Houndoom and a Patrat. Neither of the two newcomers seemed particularly enthusiastic to be there.

The contestants' attention, however, was drawn to the hosts, who stood on the far side of the beach. They looked relatively normal, though they were positioned beside a makeshift bonfire in front of twelve wooden stumps embedded in the sand. Beside them was a wooden portable potty, which Ursaring playfully patted with a grin.

"Welcome back, everyone!" Ursaring greeted, waving the contestants over. They slowly approached, some of them eyeing the food with interest as they did so. "We hope you're not too tuckered out, because we thought it'd be nice to throw together a little 'welcome to the island' party!"

"I'm impressed," Samurott said, flashing a dazzling grin. "I never thought I'd see a show that celebrates the players."

Nidorina sidled up next to him. "Didn't they do that back in your day?"

"Huh?" Samurott looked down at her, clearly confused.

Before Nidorina could elaborate, Flareon spoke up. "Before we get into the party, though, we need to address some important details about what you can expect from the season moving forward." She gestured to the bonfire. "The darker side of the show."

"Darker?" Alcremie whispered, her voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. "Are we talking Fifty Shades dark or like Jigsaw dark?"

"This is the Elimination Ceremony," Ursaring chimed in proudly, as if he'd just remembered the name. "If a team loses a challenge, they'll report here to vote off one of their own teammates, who will be banished from the island forever!"

The contestants stood still, waiting for more details. However, Flareon shook her head. "We'll explain more when the time comes, but for now, let's just focus on avoiding the first elimination challenge." She turned toward the nearby portable potty. "Instead, let's introduce you to this."

Everyone's eyes turned toward it, expecting something dramatic to happen, but after a few moments of silence, Shieldon spoke up. "What's so special about this potty, besides the fact that it's portable?"

"Glad you asked!" Ursaring grinned, slapping the side of the porta-potty. "Because this beauty is going to become your best friend this season!"

The contestants exchanged puzzled looks, their brows raised in confusion.

Standing in the small wooden portable toilet, the camera picked up on Ursaring, who barely seemed to fit inside. He was practically smushed in front of a small toilet that had a single roll of toilet paper beside it. There wasn't much to the portable itself aside from the toiletries and, of course, the camera showcasing it.

"This is the confessional. This is where everyone can tell their deepest, darkest secrets, or just vent about their day."

"This is of course going to be shown on the cameras, so be careful on not using the potty, or saying something too scandalous," he added, tapping on the camera in response. "If you need to really go, the cam's right here, so just- wait… You can hear things… Maybe go to your room's bathroom or find a nice tree if you need to tinkle."

Alcremie looked around in wonder, despite the lack of color or decorations, she seemed genuinely amazed. "Ooh, this is the first time I've been in a toilet shack! Totally cottagecore coded!"

"Anyway, as you can see, I'm Alcremie, otherwise known as a little, pretty, adorably lovable princess!" she twirled in place, a smile adorning her face, "I've never been on television before, but I figured I would be totes perfect for it, because look at me!"

With a giggle, she twirled her hair, "I was in local competitions in all my clubs back in high school! Why, back in my senior year, my friend group had, like, the most important challenge of our lives, which was essentially theming prom around-"

Beautifly strummed their guitar, floating above the toilet while humming to themself. "Heyo fans and soon-to-be fans! Beautifly here, and I'm gonna win this whole thing!" With a smirk, they gave the camera a wink. "The money would be really helpful toward my band, Blitzlekrieg, and getting us more equipment to amp up our production."

"Plus, being on an island and meeting new people, it'll help me come up with some sick new songs for the next album," they smiled at the thought, before shooting the camera a smirk. "Who knows, maybe I'll even be able to sway everyone into being a fan!"

With this said, they moved their stubby hands together and riffed a solo on their guitar.

"So, uhh…" Caterpie began, looking around the confessional. "I actually signed up for a completely different show, but they sorta never called back and I guess I got accepted for this instead." His expression turned a bit grim. "I kind of experienced something… Really bad that put me in a bit of a downward funk for a few months. My friend thought getting out of my comfort zone like this would help me out."

"Being real, I think I made a mistake, because I genuinely think these people are crazy, and there's literal whirlpools surrounding this island." He added with a flinch. "Not to mention the near death experience with the actual pirate… Who is staying here to compete for some reason?!"

With a sigh, he looked down, "I could go home, I guess… B-But I don't wanna leave a quitter! I wanna prove I'm just as capable of handling this as anyone else, but it's kinda hard when no one really notices me." He smiled. "But who knows? Maybe I can turn this around? Maybe?"

Doduo sat in the center of the portable potty, though both heads were looking directly at each other, before turning to the camera.

"I'm-" They both simultaneously began, stopping to once again look at each other.

"I thought we agreed I would start us off?" Pom whispered, harshly.

"No, we agreed that I would start us off," Perry whispered, though before the other head could utter a word, he turned to the camera, "we're Doduo. We're here for the money."

Groaning at the opportunity being taken, Pom begrudgingly nodded. "Yeah, there's no other reason to be here, after all. What else would anyone come here for? The challenge? The experience?"

The twin heads chuckled to themselves at the absurdity, though Perry smiled at the camera. "We really need the money, like anyone else would. We're going to do anything and everything in our power to get it. We don't need friends or anything else when we have each other, after all."

Pom nodded, narrowing his beady eyes, "It's very helpful that our roommate is a giant piece of-" The camera suddenly bleeped the next few words from his beak, before cutting out completely.

Dragonite looked down at the camera, his eyes crossed for a moment, before he leaned back with a disturbed expression. "I best remember to let the others know to not use this as a restroom."

With a clearing of his throat, he smiled at the camera. "Anywho, hello! I'm here to win this 'thang, woohoo!" He chuckled. "Hehe! I've always lived my life the best way possible, but now that the youngins are all grown up, I just thought… Well, it'd be nice for a good change of pace!"

"Sure, the money would be nice, but mostly I just want to have a grand time here," Dragonite smiled. "Everyone here is a lot younger than me, but I can be hip and can get in with my peers," He forced a smile and then muttered, "I hope I can at least… I kinda quit my job to be here, and I left my youngest kid, who's sixteen, in the care of his siblings until I come back."

Looking off to the side, sheepishly, he muttered, "I just… I just really need a break and something to take my mind off of the real world for now. Hopefully something radical like this can do it!" His smile at this point looked more forced than anything.

Dusknoir floated in place, writing something down in a journal, before stuffing it in his coat pocket. He gave the camera a dull look and scoffed. "I care little for the game itself. It's childsplay, easy to win. I'm sure if I wanted to I could get the money, however I have no need for such mortal belongings."

With a shrug, he stared at the camera with little to no interest. "I'm here solely for one thing: to find a certain rat that angered some very powerful people." Folding his arms over his chest, he looked down with an annoyed grunt. "I found the annoyance, however, I don't have a way to contact my client at the moment. I don't own a phone, because why would I want one?"

"Instead, I may as well stay here for who knows how long and look for something entertaining to do as to pass the time. I heard that reality shows offer enough stupidity to make someone smile at how awful it is." He rolled his eye. "At least everyone nearly dying earlier almost made me smile… Almost."

Floatzel looked at the camera and gave it a bright grin. "Yo, what's up! The name's Floatzel…For the show at least. I mean, I could share my real name but I'm sure they'd bleep it out." With a shrug, she folded her arms over her chest and leaned back.

"So, I'm super into challenges. Sports, games, eating, you name it. I heard of Pokevivor but it's killer to get on there, so getting on here is like pretty rad! I get to do the Pokevivor stuff probs, so excited for that." She added, clenching her fists ever so slightly.

Looking off to the side, she added, "While the challenges will be cool, I'm mostly here for the money. It's a life changing amount of cash and… I really need a big break like that." Ruffling her mohawk, she gave a grin to the camera. "So be sure to root for me, viewing world! I swear, I'm pretty awesome!"

Adjusting the crown atop of her head, Flygon looked at the camera and gave it a weak smile…Though realizing this, she brightened her smile, though it still looked somewhat fake.

"H-Hello- I mean…Hey!" Flygon greeted with a wave of her claw and an awkward chuckle. "I'm King Flygon! A humble royal from a distant land! I came here to…Uh- get more in tune with nature!"

The dragon scratched at her cloak. "I don't get out much back home- at the palace, of course, so uh…I thought it'd be nice to see a completely new region and area. So far, everyone on my team is nice, so I'm excited to see how the rest of my summer goes here."

With this said, she forced another smile at the camera, dazzling the camera with her pearly white fangs.

Frogadier looked over the camera in an almost curious manner. Leaning back, he let out a huff of air and was silent for a moment. However, he eventually opened his mouth, "I...I came here out of curiosity. I'm just happy for the opportunity to learn from this new environment."

"The elders in my village had said I was… Unfit for the outside world, as I have not completed my training, however, I feel more than ready," he assured, puffing his chest out in the process. "The new world is quite different so far, but I am confident I can survive and keep my mentality strong throughout the competition and win for my clan's honor."

With that said, he gave a quick bow. "Good luck to my competition, for I assure you all…" He narrowed a glare. "I won't hold back!"

"I love adventure," Hattrem stated, her eyes on a notepad she's frivolously writing into, "it's one of the main reasons why I chose to sign up for this gig. I know it's going to be jammed back with all sorts of challenges, mentally and physically."

Looking up from her notepad, she smiled, "Honestly, I'm not big on those junk articles that try to ruin a celebrity's life through meaningless gossip… However, I'm curious how it could go. I'm down to play a quick villainous game here, stir the pot, create drama and maybe even create and destroy some friendships!"

"I'll be stepping into the shoes of a natural born paparazzi, getting all the info needed to make this season fantastic!" She grinned, twirling her pen in her hand. "I don't think I'll make it far in the competition, but hey, if I end up winning I won't complain about getting free money."

Inching closer to the camera, she whispered, "Besides, the group I'm lumped up with don't particularly seem to have any real brains in their heads." With a giggle, she leaned back and bit at the tip of her pen. "However, I don't mind that muscle-brained weasel… I think getting closer to her would be pretty fun for a while."

A familiar purple spectre floated in front of the camera, though Mismagius looked up and tipped her hat, though she looked at the camera in disinterest. "I'm not excited to be here. 'Twas supposed to be a quick grab and dip, but now if I want the booty, I'll be forced to endure out here…"

"I live most of my life at sea, so being somewhere so different… 'Tis very much a change of pace, but it's something' I need to get used to." She sighed, looking off to the side. "Can't even blame the lass for egging me into staying, for if what the fire fox said dare be true, I got myself into this by auditioning in the first place, so I need 'ta see it to the end now."

"At least the girls are good company," she added, though smiled soon after. "Not too bad to look at either. Guys too…" Though as soon as she said as much, her confidence seemed to stray, her confident posture momentarily shaking, "...I miss my crew though…Those guys have gotten me through some long, rough days…I'm gonna make 'em proud."

Nodding to herself, she breathed in, "...I gotta…It's the least I can do…"

"Oh. My. Gosh. I'm in a real confessional," Nidorina whispered, looking around in awe. "I've been preparing for this moment since I was in literal diapers!"

The poison-type then smiled, "And that's not even an exaggeration, I've literally been training for this moment since I was a kid- Hell, since I was an egg. My parents were super supportive too, and thankfully now I can finally use my skills to win this game show! Which I definitely will, duh!"

"I'm smart, I'm strong, I'm fast, and, get this…I'm a great listener," she squealed, "I can see it now…Nidorina; winner of Total Radical Island!" She cheered out in excitement, her own shaking causing her to fall off her seat.

Noctowl was literally flapping his wings within the confessional, a disgusted expression on his face as he nearly gagged. "Eugh, disgusting! It's quite literally a criminal felony to have a camera in a portable toilet!"

"Whatever," he scowled, before turning his irate expression to the camera, "I'm just here to win. Cause duh. Anyone who says they aren't are liars and thieves and instantly prove themselves completely and totally unreliable as narrators and should have their credibility besmirched for life."

He scoffed, "I care little for the people or the show, I just want to have another successful rendezvous to place on my resume. The more success, the more money after all- far more than what a bottom tier wretch like this series can offer."

"However, more money wouldn't hurt either," he mused to himself.

Samurott stretched his arms out, causing the large muscles in his arms and torso to bulge out ever so slightly, though he was aware of what he was doing, as he sent a wink to the camera. "Hey, I'm Samurott."

"If you're a fan of PWWE, then you probably know who I am," he explained, leaning back, though after nearly knocking the small building back, he lifted himself back up with a sheepish smile. "If not, well, if it's not obvious, I'm a pretty damn good wrestler."

Scratching his white beard, he scrunched his nose, "This isn't my first time on one of these shows; it's been nearly a decade, but I still have very vivid memories of my time on that trainwreck." With a shudder, he sighed. "I can't legally talk about it, but all I can say is I get a better vibe here. The hosts threw a damn welcome party, how can I complain about that?"

"Anyway, I'm here to do what I do best in the ring, and that's to win," he winked at the camera, before waving a claw at it. "Ruby, Viola, Liana, I love you guys! Don't worry about me, I'll be back at the end of the summer!"

"Hello!" Shieldon greeted the camera with a wave of their paw. "I'm Shieldon, I'm really happy to be here!" They sat back, their smile still intact. "I just want to make sure everyone has a fun time here. In that other show, it's always about drama, so I'm going to make sure that there's no drama and that everyone has a safe and fun experience!"

"After all, everyone deserves to feel nothing but pure happiness, right?" He asked, as if there was any other answer but his own.

Flipping the page of a book, Snorunt read through the page, before slowly looking up. "I'm mainly here because I heard a group of girls gushing about signing up… So I personally assured them they wouldn't be cast under any circumstances by freezing them, stealing their tapes, smashing them, and submitting my own." She shrugged. "I'm petty like that."

The ice-type flipped the page once more, adding, "Unfortunately that means I'm here now. Still, I must admit it's intrigued me now, so I plan to win; having fun is irrelevant, as is anyone else's experience here. Simple as that. And when my 'smart mouth'," she said as much with air quotes, "begins to annoy them a bit too much for their own good, I won't mind; after all, I have more than enough tricks up my sleeves to keep them from trying anything."

"I even brought some additional assurances that would all but seal my victory this summer," she finished, adjusting her glasses perfectly on her face.

Xatu stared at the camera, an eerie smile set on his beak as a low humming coo was uttered, "Hmm…"

The camera picked up on Grafaiai, who wasn't even sitting upright or staring at the camera. Instead, the primate was bent over, looking down at the ground, before glancing up with a smirk.

"I don't care about this dump," he stated, continuing his work below. "I just came here because why the hell not. It's a free beachside vacation with a free room, free food, and free access to ruin some peoples free lives."

With a snort, he added, "I'm already rich, those of you who know real talent and art are well aware of my Mewtube channel, over two million subscribers and counting in it, after all!"

He pulled out a square, wooden board, placing it on the side and pulling out various electrical ports with a smirk. "For now though, I think I just found my ticket to staying entertained… At least for later." He sent a wink to the camera, before letting out a vile laugh. "Ahahahahaha!"

"Ahahahahaha!"

The contestants and hosts stared at the confessional, where the same laugh echoed on repeat for the past thirty seconds. Shieldon bounced in place. "I'm glad he's having fun."

"Uhhh… Guys?"

Everyone turned toward the sound of Patrat's voice, seeing the staff struggling to fend off a group of oversized Pidgey. "The pudgy Pidgey are trying to get the food!" Patrat exclaimed, waving a random stick to shoo one away.

"Alright then!" Ursaring grinned, clapping his paws together as he turned toward the cast with a wide smile. "I think that's our cue to let you all have some real fun now! Woooh!"

The contestants immediately scattered from the hosts. Most of them flocked toward the snack table, while others approached the volleyball net. Flygon, however, felt unsure of where to go. Seeing that her supposed roommate and partner had wandered off somewhere, she was left feeling lost.

"Hey, you okay there?"

The dragon looked to the side and saw Doduo approaching her. Perry, in particular, asked, "You look a little glum for someone with a giant crown of gold on their head."

"It must be massive," Pom added, nodding along with his brother. "You really royalty, toots?"

Before Flygon could respond, Perrysmacked his brother's head with his own. "Hey, be respectful! Who would pretend to be royalty on national television, you dope?"

This caused Flygon to look away, a nervous sweat beginning to form on her brow.

"Don't call me a dope, you dope!"

"Don't call me a—"

"Alright, that's enough," a smooth voice interrupted. The three heads turned to see Noctowl, who had flown in close to Flygon. "You've had your fun, now go on, shoo. Don't waste another second of our royal guest's time."

Doduo stared at the owl as he waved them off with the tip of his wing. Pom twitched. "Who the hell are you to talk to us like that?"

"Yeah," Perry agreed.

Noctowl rolled his eyes but flashed them a smirk. "I'm someone just as important as our royal guest." When the birds remained uninterested, he added, "I'll give you a hint—my name's Franklin. It may ring a bell."

"Nope," Pom admitted.

"Even if it did, we don't care," Perry added.

Noctowl's brow twitched in irritation. "Forget it. Ants like you wouldn't understand anyway!"

Pom looked irritated, while Perry grunted. "Whatever, we're leaving." Nudging his brother, they started to move forward, but Perry turned back to look at Flygon, smiling. "If you want better company—"

"You know where to find us," Pom grumbled, finishing his brother's sentence as they made their way to the snack table.

"Finally, they're gone," Noctowl muttered, rolling his eyes. He turned to Flygon with a somewhat softer expression. "You need to be more firm with the local pests. If they start hanging around people of our status, they'll think they're important. They need to know their place."

Flygon flinched at this, twiddling with her claws and mumbling, "You treat them like they're lesser."

"They are," Noctowl shrugged, glancing down at his talons. "I don't know how it's done in your region, but in mine, the foundation of improving yourself and your status is clear. It's better to be harsh with them, to encourage them to get better, than to let them leech onto you for the rest of your life."

"Ah," Flygon replied, unsure of how to respond to that.

"Speaking of regions," Noctowl leaned in closer. "Where are you from again? I don't remember seeing a Flygon as royalty, and I know everyone important."

Flygon looked everywhere but at the owl, whispering, "I can't say." Noctowl raised an eyebrow. "I don't want to endanger my people by telling you on television," Flygon added.

His gaze narrowed, but after a moment, he backed off. "Smart. I like you. Even if you're soft." He turned away, smirking. "We may be on separate teams, but if you ever need someone to turn to for advice on how to handle your status, I'll allow you to confide in me."

With that, the owl flew off, leaving Flygon standing there, more confused than ever.

Flygon looked around the confessional and whispered, "I don't know why Noctowl wants to befriend me but… I don't know how to feel about him. He's rude and arrogant and I don't think that's a proper way to handle yourself."

"Especially considering I'm a king, I'm supposed to help the poor, not belittle them," she added, looking off to the side while muttering, "I should probably consult this to Nidorina later. Maybe she'll know what to do."

"I still don't know where she could be from," Noctowl pondered, though ultimately shrugged. "Whatever, as long as she thinks we're close, that's all that matters."

Looking at the camera, he smirked. "In this game you need allies. She may be from another team, but inter-team relations could be crucial to me for information."

With a sigh, he looked away in disgust. "However, I do need allies on my actual team… Which I think will be somewhat more difficult to obtain. However, someone from my status should be able to properly do so fairly easily, so I will prevail!"

The party's noise ebbed as Mismagius floated toward the shoreline, the ocean's rhythmic murmur drawing her in. She hovered just above the sand, her gaze fixed on the vast expanse of moonlit waves.

She let her eyes wander, contemplating the strange turn her life had taken in the last few hours—so far from the seas she had once ruled, so far from everything familiar. This must be the longest she'd ever gone without the ocean spray on her face, the salty wind in her hair.

"Y'know, with how dramatic your entrance was, wouldn't take you for the type to try out an Irish goodbye."

Mismagius turned, spotting Hattrem standing nearby. She twirled a black recorder idly in her fingers before pointing it straight at the ghost, her smirk as sharp as her tone. "The heck do you mean by that?"

"Y'know; leaving real discrete, wandering off to pull off some kinda pity party and brood to yourself by the shoreline." Hattrem mocked. "Would usually take that as pretty out of character with how much bluster you were running."

Mismagius gave her a flat look. "Do I look like I'm brooding?"

Hattrem shrugged, clearly unfazed. "You tell me. You've got this whole 'distant rogue' thing down to a science. Everyone back there's whispering about you, by the way. Not exactly rave reviews."

"Good." Mismagius's grin was all teeth. "Means I'm making an impression."

Hattrem snorted. "Right, because that's the goal? Wanna elaborate on that?"

"I got better priorities than making nice with a buncha landfolk. Besides, money doesn't care if people hate me," Mismagius said breezily.

"Oh please, don't going lipping off some false, pseudo-archetypical, 'my way or the highway', 'I ain't here to make friends', 'yar har booty' mumbo jumbo to me; I ain't one of the morons here who is gonna get caught up on it." Hattrem leaned in slightly, the recorder still trained on her. "Because I've heard all about you. The tricks. The double-crosses. Your old crew—"

"Careful, little miss." Mismagius's voice dropped to a velvety purr, the threat beneath it unmistakable. "You wouldn't want me to think you're digging too deep."

"Oh, I'm not scared of you." Hattrem's smirk widened as she met the ghost's eyes without flinching. "Frankly lady, I like digging. You've got layers, and I'm just itching to see what's under that smug act of yours."

Mismagius chuckled darkly, drifting closer until her shadow loomed over the psychic. "Keep scratching, then. Just don't be surprised when you find something you don't like."

The two stared each other down, the tension between them as palpable as the ocean breeze. Finally, Mismagius let out a sharp laugh, turning away with a flick of her spectral tail. "You're fun," she called over her shoulder. "Let's do this again sometime."

She disappeared beneath the ground, catching the reporter off guard. "Wait—hey!" Hattrem spluttered, lowering her recorder. "I'm not done with you!"

But Mismagius was already gone, vanishing into the night as the waves crashed softly behind her.

Hattrem let out an exasperated groan, staring at the empty space where the ghost had been. "Unbelievable."

"Mismagius came into this thinking she could just steal the prize like every other treasure she's gotten those filthy hands on, and now that she knows she can't, she's deflecting; pretending she didn't just screw herself," Hattrem mocked with a haughty smirk. "Pretty lame if I say so myself. I was expecting more, but at this rate, I wouldn't be shocked if she managed to make herself the first boot from her team."

"Still, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want her to stick around. She ain't bad on the eyes, has quite the history I need to uncover, and more than anything, she's such an obvious shield; as long as she's here, anything I do will go under the radar, and the longer I'm here, the more juicy drama I can uncover~" Hattrem snickered.

"If these scallywags be convincing themselves I'll just roll over and die, then they got a reality check coming their way something fierce," Mismagius laughed, "sure, my way of entering weren't traditional to be sure. But hey, everyone knows me name now, aye?"

"A bad first impression is still an impression; I can work with that a lot more than the dull nonsense most of them be spouting!" The ghost smirked. "All I gotta do is work my way into an alliance or two to get my name off the block, and I'll work something out from there. A fool may say I'm down, but I am hardly out, me hearties!"

Snorunt flipped a page in her book, reading intently. The blaring music was loud enough to pierce anyone's eardrums, but she was a master at tuning out annoyances to focus on things that actually mattered.

"Pretty woman, stop awhile…" Oh no. Snorunt glanced up from her book, seeing Beautifly floating toward her, strumming a guitar. "Pretty woman, talk awhile."

Realizing the bug was indeed approaching, Snorunt narrowed her gaze and demanded, "Go away," before turning away from Beautifly completely.

Instead of listening, Beautifly continued, "Pretty woman, give your smile to meeeeeeeeeee!" Snorunt ignored her, returning to her book, but the bug leaned in closer. "Pretty woman, yeah, yeah, yeah!"

Snorunt groaned, slamming her book shut and turning to glare at Beautifly. The butterfly gave her a smug grin, boastfully strumming the guitar. "Pretty woman, look my way—"

"You have three seconds to leave before I give you a colonoscopy with that guitar," the ice-type threatened. Beautifly immediately halted their singing.

With a sigh, Beautifly flipped the guitar to their side and raised their hands in mock surrender. "Sorry, you seemed kinda lonely. I remembered you didn't have a roommate, so I thought maybe some social interaction with yours truly would lift your spirits a little."

"So what, you think singing to me makes you special?" Snorunt asked, before turning her attention back to her book, reopening it. "Leave."

Beautifly looked around, confused, before clearing their throat. "Uh, I don't need to sing to know I'm special, I already know that." Snorunt ignored them. "If it's any consolation, though, I wasn't lying. You really are pretty."

Snorunt paused mid-sentence, slowly glancing up. Beautifly continued with a grin, "Don't overthink it though, you're definitely not my type!" They lightly strummed their guitar. "I know I'm a catch, but I don't want to lead you on or anything…"

Snorunt groaned, frustrated now. Slamming her book shut, she glared at the bug. "I'm leaving. Don't follow me."

But Beautifly stayed floating in place, laughing to themself. "By the way, that song was a far cry from your usual music." Snorunt remarked as she left.

"Can't beat the classics," Beautifly responded, but then froze. "W-Wait! You know my music?! How is it? Do you like Koffing Party?!"

Snorunt stopped for a moment, turning around with a shrug. "Meh." With that, she walked off, unaware that the butterfly had plummeted from the sky (three feet from the ground) and onto the sandy shore.

Looking up, Beautifly dramatically screamed, "Noooooooooo!" They didn't seem to mind the odd stares from their peers.

Beautifly looked around for a moment, still reeling in shock from the earlier news. "She knows who I am. She knows my music. I actually met a real fan-" Stopping themself, they let out a gasp. "Wait… She isn't a fan. She said it was meh!"

"Ugh," Beautifly groaned and smacked their head. "Dammit! I knew the bridge to 'Koffing Party' could have been better! It has to be that one. She didn't even listen to the other songs, this one probably ruined it!"

"I guess this just means I have to really work harder to get the creative juices flowing," they stated, a newfound confidence in their voice. "Then I'll give Snorunt a little taste of it and I'm sure she'll have a better experience than she did with Koffing Party and become Blitzlekrieg's number one fan!"

Snorunt stared at the camera and shrugged. "Their music isn't terrible, but I don't want them to know that." With a scowl, she rolled her eyes. "They might get… Ideas."

Frogadier stared intently at the speaker as if it were some kind of anomaly, inspecting every square inch of the object. Grafaiai, perched atop a table and casually munching on a chocolate bar, noticed the frog's curiosity.

"Never seen a crappy speaker before?" the lemur called out, earning Frogadier's attention.

"No," the frog replied earnestly, causing Grafaiai to raise an eyebrow. "It's strange. How does the music come out of it?" Frogadier eyed a single wire, holding it up and regarding it suspiciously. "What is this?"

"That's a plug," Grafaiai deadpanned.

Frogadier continued to examine it, tracing the wire to a nearby extension cord. "Why is it in this box?"

Grafaiai rolled his eyes but spotted a fork nearby. Smirking, he picked it up and tossed it over to Frogadier, who caught it effortlessly. "You'll find out when you take it out. You can only do that if you pry it out with a fork, though."

Frogadier saluted and knelt down before the electrical cord, inserting the utensil into it. Grafaiai watched, licking his lips in anticipation… until a large shadow loomed over him. He raised an eyebrow. "What happened to the lighting?"

"That would be me," a deep, rumbling voice replied. Grafaiai looked up to see Dusknoir standing above him, gazing down with an unreadable expression. "I have a question for you."

"Hurry up, I'm busy," Grafaiai sighed, scratching under his arm before glancing up warily. "You're not a homo, right? You're not coming onto me, right?!"

Dusknoir stared at him with little interest. "No."

Grafaiai looked uncertain for a moment but shrugged, leaning back and returning to his snack. "Whatever, your loss." Dusknoir rolled his eye, but Grafaiai groaned. "Ask away."

"Your tail," Dusknoir said, pointing at it. Grafaiai turned to look, his eyes widening at the short, fluffy appendage. "I may be mistaken, but I'm pretty sure your species is supposed to have a longer—"

The candy bar Grafaiai was holding slammed into Dusknoir's face, followed by a sharp slap from the lemur.

"You lied to me," Grafaiai accused, jabbing an accusing finger at the ghoul, who only twitched in place. "What kind of freak stares at another man's tail without asking, huh—"

"Ow!"

Grafaiai glanced to the side, seeing Frogadier drop his fork, now clutching his fingers in pain. The outlet was smoking, with small sparks shooting out. The stereo had stopped playing music.

"Ha!" Grafaiai pointed at the visibly annoyed frog. "You actually did it! Moron!"

However, as this happened, Dusknoir's gaze drifted to Grafaiai's tail. He noticed that it had changed. What was once a small tuft of black fur was now longer, bristling at the tip, with a single white stripe running through the middle.

"Hm," Dusknoir mused, before slowly inching away from the two men.

Frogadier waved his hand, a scowl on his face, though upon seeing the camera, he breathed in and out. "I… Was tricked." With a twitch he grumbled, "I can't believe that man tricked me."

"I suppose he shouldn't be considered trustworthy anymore," he sighed, lowering his hand down.

Dusknoir held a pen in his large, oversized hand, gingerly writing in a tattered journal. "How interesting." Clamping it shut, he gave the camera a dull look. "I suppose my job isn't completely done."

Alcremie sat at one of the snack tables, intently studying a large cake as she chattered away to a nearby Shieldon. "So, that's when my old BFF completely destroyed our six-minute-long friendship—right when she decided to use baby blue frosting instead of pink. Like, who chooses blue over pink?"

"People who like the color blue?" Shieldon offered cautiously.

His comment fell on deaf ears as Alcremie barreled ahead. "Then again, if she had picked pink, would she have chosen the right shade? Like, there are so many pinks, right? Obviously, Barbie Pink is the superior pink. Light pink is okay, but ooh, ooh, maybe—"

Shieldon, realizing there was no way to interject, simply nodded along, nibbling on his food. His attention sharpened, however, when Alcremie casually dropped, "And then she went missing."

"Wait… she went missing?" Shieldon blinked in alarm.

"Yes! After her dad tried to buy her another sports car, she just vanished!" Alcremie exclaimed. "No one's seen her in two years, but she still posts on the 'Gram and the Tok every day about her wild adventures around the world!"

"Oh… Well, at least she's having fun!" Shieldon offered earnestly.

"I know, right?" Alcremie sighed, utterly unconcerned.

Nearby, on the volleyball court, Floatzel and Dragonite were mid-game. Floatzel leaped into the air with impressive agility, slamming the ball with her palm. "Spike!"

The ball hit the ground with a resounding thud before ricocheting wildly—straight into Dragonite's unsuspecting face. The impact sent him sprawling backward onto the sand.

"Oof." Floatzel flinched, ducking under the net to check on him. She extended a hand. "Sorry, man. Gravity's wild sometimes."

Dragonite coughed, grabbing her hand. To his surprise, she hoisted him up with ease. "Wow, you're strong," he noted, brushing sand off his scales.

With a wide grin, Floatzel flexed her arms. "The strongest!" Her eyes flicked over his broad frame, landing on the jagged scar across his snout. "Looks like you're pretty tough too. That scar's intense."

Dragonite awkwardly averted his gaze, a weak laugh escaping as he instinctively covered the scar with a claw. "Oh, that's from a long time ago. I'm just a simple family guy now."

"Boring." Floatzel rolled her eyes but nudged him playfully. "Hey, you know how to fight, right? Wanna spar?"

Dragonite immediately raised his hands defensively, shaking his head. "No thanks. I'm not into fighting like that."

"But… you're a dragon," Floatzel said, tilting her head in confusion. "You're, like, born to fight!"

Dragonite winced, touching his snout gingerly. "I think it's swelling a bit. I should probably go see the nurse for some ice."

Floatzel watched him shuffle off, clearly baffled. "Suit yourself, but if you change your mind, I'm here!"

Dragonite waved over his shoulder, eager to retreat.

Shieldon smiled at the camera. "I have no idea what Alcremie was saying, but I'm happy to lend an ear to someone who just wants to talk about their amazing life."

"I think Alcremie's definitely had… A life!" They laughed to themself. "There's a ton of adventure filled in there, kinda crazy how a lot of weird stuff has been happening around her."

Dragonite shifted uncomfortably in his seat, a paw brushing the jagged scar across his snout. "I'm just not much of a fighter anymore. Maybe in my youth, I would've taken Floatzel up on her offer, but there's more to life than turning everything into a challenge you have to bulldoze through."

He paused, a wistful smile crossing his face. "It took me years to realize that, but in the end, it made me the happiest man in the world." His paw lowered to gently touch the necklace resting on his chest. "I wouldn't change a thing."

A single lounge chair faced the roaring ocean, its occupant, Samurott, lounging with a relaxed sigh. One hand cradled a coconut drink, while the other adjusted his sunglasses over his eyes.

He wasn't entirely alone. A few feet away, Xatu perched in his wheelchair, staring out at the ocean without blinking—a typical, unsettling habit. Curled up on Xatu's chest was Caterpie, sound asleep. The little bug wasn't bothering him, so Xatu didn't seem to mind.

From beside the lounge chair, a pair of rounded blue ears suddenly poked into view, followed by Nidorina's head springing out. "Hey!"

"Ahh!" Samurott yelped, jolting upright. The movement sent Caterpie flying off Xatu's chest and into the ocean with a small splash.

Flinching at the commotion, Nidorina whispered, "Sorry." She looked up at the startled otter with a sheepish grin. "I just, uh… wanted to say hi and, you know, maybe get to know you a little better."

"Oh, that's cute," Samurott chuckled, lifting his sunglasses and sighing. "Sorry to disappoint, but I'm married."

"I know!" she said, her grin widening. Samurott's brows rose in confusion. "Oh, wait, no! I didn't mean it like that! I mean… I know who you are!" She glanced around nervously before leaning in to whisper, "You're the Mikhail Dmitriev!"

"Ah, I see," he sighed, offering a practiced, charming smile. "You're a fan. If you've got a piece of paper or something, I can give you an autograph—"

"Yes, but later!" Nidorina interrupted, waving a paw. "Actually, I wanted to ask about your time on that game show."

Samurott's eyes widened slightly. "You… know about that?"

"I'm deep into the forums—even the not-so-public ones," she whispered conspiratorially, glancing around again. "So, are you ever going to tell anyone about what happened there?"

"It wasn't exactly a secret, but—"

"Uh-huh," she pressed, narrowing her eyes. "Then what did happen? There's literally no information anywhere, and no one from the show has said a word. Mind enlightening a fan?"

Samurott gave her an unimpressed look before shrugging. "Legally, I can't talk about it," he said.

Nidorina pouted.

"And even if I could, I wouldn't. It's not something I enjoy discussing."

"But—"

"This conversation is over," he interrupted, settling his sunglasses back into place and turning away. "I'm going back to relaxing. Please leave me alone."

Nidorina opened her mouth to protest but saw the large otter had already tuned her out. Shoulders slumping, she muttered something under her breath and stalked off.

Once her footsteps faded, Samurott peeked over his shades to ensure she was gone. Satisfied, he leaned back into his chair, ready to sink back into his relaxation.

And yet, something felt off. A nagging sensation, like he'd forgotten something—

"Ahhhh!"

Samurott lifted his shades to see Caterpie squirming away on the sand, Xatu gleefully wheeling after him, cooing in what could only be described as delighted chirps. With a shrug, Samurott lowered his sunglasses again and reclined into the chair. Not his problem. It seemed harmless enough.

Nidorina groaned and gently pressed her head against the confessional walls. "Damn you legal NDA forms!" With a sigh, she folded her arms and pouted, "Whatever, so I may not be able to learn about that lost season, but I do have an opportunity to win this one!"

"I already have a day one connection with Flygon," she smiled brightly. "If I can get even more connections, I'll be safe for a long time and in power. I shouldn't rush it though, I need it to come naturally… As much as possible."

Nodding to herself at this newfound information, she added, "I'll need to talk to Flygon about this, you know, make sure she knows this is a duo type of thing so she won't think I'm steamrolling everything… Even though I am."

"I might've jinxed things when I said the vibe was better here," Samurott said, looking less than amused. "I've had some crazy fans in the past, but none of them who were interested in that aspect of my life."

"I shut it down though, so I think the girl would respect that," he added, though his voice lacked any confidence in that. "I hope she respects that."

As the sky darkened, fatigue began to settle over the contestants. The day's events, coupled with the near-empty snack table, had left most of them drained.

Dragonite stretched his arms above his head and let out a yawn. "It's way past my bedtime, folks!" He scratched his neck and smiled warmly. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm ready to hit the hay."

"Old man," Noctowl quipped, turning Dragonite's smile into a slight frown. "But I agree. I'm exhausted and ready to 'hit the hay,' as you say."

A chorus of murmured agreements rippled through the group as they began shuffling toward the cobblestone steps leading to the resort—

"Hold on."

The voice, unmistakable by now, froze everyone in their tracks. At the top of the steps stood Flareon and Ursaring, effectively blocking the path. Ursaring looked as though he'd rather be anywhere else—his tired expression betrayed his own readiness for bed. Flareon, however, appeared unfazed, her fiery energy undimmed by the late hour.

"Before you head off to sleep, we have one more thing to discuss," Flareon announced.

"Ugh, can't this wait until tomorrow?" Hattrem whined, dramatically leaning against a bored-looking Dusknoir. "I need my beauty rest!"

"It's important," Flareon replied sharply. "It pertains to your first challenge of the season."

Floating aside, Dusknoir allowed Hattrem to tumble onto the sand with a surprised yelp. Ignoring her glare, he focused on the hosts. "Shouldn't challenges be discussed when we're actually about to do them?"

"That's the thing," Ursaring said with a grin. "You're about to do it now!"

The crowd gasped in unison.

"Well, maybe not now now," Ursaring corrected, "but right after Flare explains it."

"Yes, what are we doing in the middle of the night?" Flygon asked, rubbing her tired eyes. "We're all exhausted."

"Good," Flareon said, her tone almost smug. "That will make the challenge more interesting. Tonight, you'll be competing in what we call an Awake-A-Thon."

Frogadier crossed his arms and muttered, "Never heard of it."

"The rules are simple," Flareon continued. "All you have to do is stay awake. Anyone who falls asleep—by any means—will be eliminated from the challenge."

"The team that loses all its members first will be declared the loser," Ursaring added, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "This could theoretically go on for days… maybe weeks. But looking at you lot, I'd say a day, max."

"There's a glaring issue here," Nidorina interjected, drawing attention. "The ghosts have a massive advantage. They don't need sleep like we do, so they'll probably outlast everyone."

Mismagius smirked knowingly, but Dusknoir remained impassive.

"I said by any means necessary," Flareon reiterated, her gaze sharp as it landed on Nidorina. "Do with that information what you will."

"Now, do you all understand the rules of the challenge?"

"Barely," Shieldon admitted with an easy smile.

"Just enjoy the island and do whatever you need to stay awake," Flareon explained. "Or don't. But I doubt your teammates will appreciate a quitter."

"No quitters here!" Floatzel declared confidently, then lowered her voice to her teammates. "We don't have any quitters, right?"

Ursaring chuckled. "As I'm sure you've guessed, the winning team will be safe from elimination and get exclusive access to the Winners' Lounge."

"Oh, we're winning that," Grafaiai said with a sly grin.

"We'll see," Flareon replied. She glanced around at the group, now visibly more alert after hearing about the prize. "If there are no further questions, we'll begin the challenge in three… two… one…"

FM: 9 SF: 9

"Now!" Ursaring declared with as much drama as he could muster. "From here on out, anyone who falls asleep is officially out of the challenge!"

The contestants nodded in understanding. Nidorina turned to her teammates with a wide, determined grin. "Alright, no problem! We just need to keep each other awake as much as possib—"

She was cut off by a loud snore. Her eyes darted to the source, along with everyone else's.

There sat Xatu, his head drooped forward, a cartoonish snot bubble expanding and contracting from his beak as he snored away, completely oblivious to the stunned silence around him.

FM: 8 SF: 9

"Well, that was quick," Flareon deadpanned, her voice breaking the quiet.

Nidorina fell to her knees, dramatically throwing her arms into the air. "Whyyyyyyy?!"

As her teammates tried to calm her, they quickly flailed in an attempt to hold her back from lunging at the peacefully slumbering psychic-type. The scene devolved into chaos as Flareon and Ursaring exchanged looks. Without a word, they both began inching away from the commotion toward the resort.

Flareon paused mid-step, her sharp eyes catching sight of a camera crew nearby. She nudged Ursaring with her paw. "Ursaring."

He stopped and turned to her. "Yeah?"

She subtly nodded toward the camera. "The outro," she whispered, tilting her head again for emphasis.

"Oh!" His eyes widened, and he quickly nodded. "Right!"

Turning to the camera with a grin, Ursaring attempted his best hosting smile. "Uh, so… I don't really know how to do these outros," he began awkwardly.

Flareon groaned audibly, facepalming so hard it echoed.

"But!" Ursaring continued, recovering with newfound confidence, "I hope you've all enjoyed the first half of the premiere episode. That's right—this is a special two-part season opener! So, if you're dying to know who wins, who loses, and who brings the drama, stay tuned! The second half will hit your screens… right after the break!"

The camera crew gave him a thumbs-up before packing up their equipment and leaving. Flareon raised a brow, impressed, as she looked up at the bear.

"You remembered your lines," she remarked, glancing around him suspiciously. "And without a script."

"Yup!" Ursaring beamed, tapping his temple. "It's all up here."

She studied him for a moment, then shook her head with a small smirk. "Nice job."

With that, she turned and headed into the resort. Ursaring watched her retreating figure until it disappeared inside, then let out a heavy sigh of relief. "That was terrifying."

Turning to a pair of nearby bushes, he called out, "Alright, coast is clear!"

The bushes rustled, and out popped Houndoom and Patrat, each holding large signs with Ursaring's lines scrawled across them. Houndoom raised a brow. "She didn't kill you?"

"Nope!" Ursaring said with a triumphant grin.

"Damn," Houndoom muttered, retreating back into the bushes.

Patrat groaned, shaking off the leaves that clung to him. "Can I please have a shower now—" He stopped mid-sentence, realizing Ursaring had already walked off, whistling a jaunty tune.

"Ugh," Patrat grumbled, trudging after the bear, his mood worsening at the sound of the contestants approaching. He could already tell this was going to be a very long night.

The Flying Magikarp: Doduo, Flygon, Frogadier, Mismagius, Nidorina, Samurott, Shieldon, Xatu, Grafaiai

The Sinking Feebas: Alcremie, Beautifly, Caterpie, Dragonite, Dusknoir, Floatzel, Hattrem, Noctowl, Snorunt

I'm not great with words, it's very evident, but I do want to thank everyone who has read this. It's definitely a very different setting compared to the last attempt on this but I think it's gotten off to a much better start already.

I can confidently look back at this chapter and say that I like it. Is it the best introduction chapter in the world? No. I do think it's an upgrade compared to its predecessor.

As stated in the Camp Drama goodbye authors note (if you've read that), this will be the second attempt at Camp Drama, but with a more traditional island setting with a resort twist to it.

Overall, I'm excited for this new journey and I hope everyone who is still interested in reading this is excited for it too.

P.S. A big thank you to everyone for being so positive about me making this decision and of course for continuing to support this project. And another shoutout to my amazing boyfriend for helping edit the chapter. It means a lot to have you by my side and I truly do appreciate you.