The morning at Camp Wawanakwa began with the metallic clink of industrial steel. Chris McLean stood at the center of the clearing, a wicked grin stretching across his face as he held three sets of heavy-duty handcuffs.
"Morning, final six!" Chris announced. "Since the herd is thinning, I've decided you all need to get a lot more... intimate. Today's challenge is the Tri-Armed Terror. You'll be handcuffed in pairs for a series of tasks designed to test your patience, your memory, and your ability not to murder each other."
Heather crossed her arms, leaning as far away from the group as possible. "I am not being tethered to a loser. Pick someone else."
"Too late, Heather! I've already chosen the pairs to ensure maximum psychological trauma," Chris chuckled. He began snapping the cuffs into place.
The Pairs:
* Heather and Ezekiel: Heather looked like she wanted to gargle glass; Zeke just stood there, his face unreadable and calm.
* Gwen and DJ: The most functional pair, though DJ was already sweating nervously.
* Duncan and Izzy: Duncan looked genuinely horrified. Izzy, meanwhile, was already trying to use the handcuffs as a musical instrument, banging them against Duncan's wrist.
Round 1: The Feeding Frenzy
The first task was a nightmare of coordination: Feed your teammate. One person was blindfolded, while the other had to guide their shackled hand to feed their partner a bowl of "Chef's Mystery Slop"—a grey, pulsating mash that smelled like wet cardboard and despair.
"Eat it, Prairie Boy! Eat it or I'll end you!" Heather hissed, her blindfolded hand shaking as she tried to shove a spoon toward Zeke's face.
Zeke didn't flinch. He reached out with his free hand, grabbed Heather's shackled wrist with a grip like iron, and stabilized her. "Stop yer yapping, eh. Just hold the spoon steady."
Heather was stunned into silence by his sheer physical strength. For the first time, she stopped screaming and actually listened. They finished their bowl in record time.
Duncan and Izzy, however, were a disaster. Izzy was laughing maniacally, trying to feed Duncan the spoon itself, while Duncan kept shouting about his "street cred" being ruined by a girl who thought the slop was "gourmet."
Round 2: The Cave of Treacherous Terror
The second part of the challenge took them to the dreaded Cave of Treacherous Terror. Each pair had to carry a fragment of a cursed tiki idol and return it to its pedestal deep within the caverns.
The moment they stepped into the dark, DJ let out a whimper. "Gwen, I think the walls are breathing! I heard a ghost! A ghost with a hook!"
Gwen had to practically drag him, his massive frame trembling so hard it shook the handcuffs.
In the back, Duncan was being yanked around like a ragdoll. Izzy had decided that the best way to navigate the dark was to do "parkour," jumping off the cave walls and dragging Duncan along with her. "Wheeee! Duncan, look! Glow-worms! Or maybe they're radioactive swamp leeches!"
But at the front, Heather and Ezekiel were moving with surprising efficiency. Every time Heather started to spiral into a panic attack about the dampness or the bats, Zeke's calm voice cut through the dark.
"Three steps left, eh. Watch the stalagmite. Just keep breathing, Heather."
Heather found herself leaning on him—not just physically, but mentally. His cold-blooded survival skills were the only thing keeping her from losing it.
Round 3: The Totem Pole of the Fallen
The final task was a test of memory and strength: The Totem Pole. The pairs had to stack heavy wooden heads of the eliminated campers in the exact order they were kicked off the island.
* 25. Courtney (1st time)
* 24. Beth
* 23. Noah
* 22. Geoff
* ...and all the way up to 7. Courtney (2nd time).
This was where Heather's tactical mind shone.
"Ezekiel, get the Beth head! No, that's Katie! Use your eyes!" she barked.
While Duncan and Izzy were arguing over whether Tyler or Harold left first, and Gwen was trying to remember which of the BFFLs (Sadie or Katie) went home earlier, Heather was a machine.
"Courtney was 25, then Beth, then Noah! Ezekiel, lift the Trent head! He was 20 and 10! Don't forget the second Courtney for number 7!"
Ezekiel didn't argue. He just grunted, his muscles bulging as he hoisted the massive wooden carvings onto the pole. He was the brawn to her brains. With one final, massive heave, Zeke slammed the second Courtney head onto the top of the stack.
"AND THAT'S IT!" Chris shouted. "Heather and Ezekiel win immunity!"
Heather let out a screech of pure triumph. For a split second, she grabbed Ezekiel in an accidental hug, before realizing what she was doing and shoving him away with a blush. "Don't touch me! We won because I'm a genius!"
Zeke just wiped the sweat from his forehead and nodded. "Good job, eh."
At the elimination ceremony, the air was bitter. Heather was safe, and she was gloating.
"Enjoy the boat, Duncan," she sneered. "Without your little statue, you're just a common crook in a bad vest."
The votes were read. Heather, Gwen, and Ezekiel had all voted for Duncan. Duncan had voted for Gwen. DJ, ever the loyal friend, refused to vote for his bro and cast a lone, confused vote for Izzy.
"Duncan," Chris said, holding the final marshmallow. "The tribe has spoken. It's time to—"
Suddenly, the roar of rotors drowned out Chris's voice. Two black, unmarked military helicopters descended from the sky. Armed agents rappelled down, surrounding the campfire.
"Izzy! AKA Kaleidoscope!" a voice boomed from a megaphone. "You are under arrest for the accidental destruction of a national monument!"
Izzy gasped, her eyes widening with excitement.
"Ooh! They found me again!"
Before anyone could react, she grabbed a vine and swung into the air. "You'll never take me alive, coppers!"
The agents swarmed her, threw a net over her, and began dragging her toward the helicopter.
"Wait!" Heather screamed, standing up. "What about Duncan? We voted him out! He has the most votes!"
Chris looked at the departing helicopters and shrugged. "Actually, since Izzy was forcibly removed by federal authorities before I could hand out the last marshmallow... she counts as the elimination for tonight. Duncan, you're safe by a technicality."
Heather's face turned a shade of purple that shouldn't be humanly possible. She marched to the edge of the clearing, shaking her fists at the ascending helicopters.
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" Heather shrieked at the top of her lungs. "F* YOU, YOU STUPID GOVERNMENT JERKS! GO TO HELL!"
Her voice echoed across the lake, a torrent of curses so foul that even Duncan winced.
Duncan just sat on his stump, leaning back with a smug grin. "Luck of the draw, Princess. Looks like you're stuck with me for one more round."
The aftermath of the elimination was chaos. Heather was still screaming at the sky, her voice echoing across the lake in a stream of censored rage, while Chris and Chef were busy arguing with the remaining federal agents about the damage to the dock. Duncan and DJ had headed back to the cabins, leaving the campfire area in a state of flickering, orange disarray.
Gwen and Ezekiel, however, slipped away. They moved toward the edge of the island, near the high cliffs where the cameras struggled to focus in the thick fog and heavy shadows. They found a spot behind a jagged rock formation—a blind spot Ezekiel had scouted days ago.
Gwen leaned against the cold stone, breathing in the damp night air. "Tonight was insane. Even for this show. Heather losing it at a helicopter... that's a new core memory." She looked over at Ezekiel, who was staring out at the water, his expression more somber than she had ever seen it. "Zeke? You've been quiet since the cave. What's on your mind?"
Ezekiel didn't look at her at first. He reached down and picked up a smooth stone, turning it over in his hand. "I'm tired of the masks, Gwen. Not the ones the killer wore tonight. The one I'm wearing."
Gwen frowned, her gothic curiosity piqued. "What do you mean? The 'homeschooled prairie boy' thing? We already established you're way tougher than you let on."
"It's more than that," Ezekiel said. He finally turned to face her, his eyes locking onto hers with a piercing, ancient intensity. "I need to tell you why I'm not afraid of the 'future' or the monsters people invent. It's because I've already lived through what happens next. Gwen... I didn't just come from the farm. I came back. From the future."
Gwen stared at him for a long beat, then let out a sharp, skeptical laugh. "Okay, Zeke. Funny. Is this a late-night horror bit? Because the 'time traveler' trope is a bit cliché, even for you."
"I knew you'd say that," Zeke replied calmly. He stepped closer, dropping his voice to a whisper that barely carried over the sound of the waves. "You think I'm crazy. But tell me... how would I know that in three years, you'll stop painting with oils because you'll develop an allergy to the turpentine? Or that your mother's middle name is a secret she only told you on your tenth birthday because she hated it—'Abigail'?"
Gwen's smile vanished. Her heart skipped a beat. "I... I never told anyone that. Not even Trent or even you. How did you—"
"I know that the 'Total Drama' franchise doesn't end here," Ezekiel continued, his voice steady and haunting. "I know that Chris McLean eventually goes to jail for the things he does to us. I know that this island... it ends up underwater. And I know that in the timeline I left behind, I became something... monstrous. Something that lost its humanity."
He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he touched the sleeve of her hoodie. "I came back to change it. To make sure I didn't lose myself. And to make sure you didn't end up heartbroken by the choices people make in the years to come."
Gwen felt a wave of coldness wash over her, but it wasn't fear. It was a staggering realization. No one could know those things. No one could know the specific, private details of her life or the gut feeling she had about the show's dark trajectory. The way he looked at her—not with the awkward crush of a teenager, but with the weary, protective gaze of someone who had watched the world burn—told her everything.
"You're serious," she whispered, her voice shaking. "You actually... you're really from there."
"I am," Zeke said. "And you're the only one I've told. If the producers knew, or if Chris knew... I'd be a lab rat. But I trust you, Gwen. I've always trusted you, in every version of this world."
Gwen looked at the boy—the man—standing before her. The scars she had seen earlier now made terrifying sense. They weren't from a farm. They were from a life he was trying to erase. She reached out and took his hand, her fingers interlaced with his.
"Your secret is safe with me, Zeke," Gwen said, her voice regaining its strength. "I don't care where—or when—you came from. You're here now. And we're going to win this thing. Together."
In the silence of the blind spot, away from the prying eyes of the world, the bond between the Goth and the Survivor became unbreakable.
5 contestants remain: Gwen, Heather, Ezekiel, Duncan, and DJ.