Gabrielle arrived on Total Drama Island with the same cold, calculated confidence she carried everywhere—an untouchable aura sharpened by wealth, precision, and a reputation built on manipulation so clean it had practically become an art form. She was the cast replacement for Heather, but the campers quickly learned she wasn’t a copy; she was worse. Every expression she made felt rehearsed, every interaction transactional, every smile a warning. She didn’t do friendship, alliances, or loyalty—she did leverage. The last season she competed in ended with her winning through a flawless blend of blackmail, psychological warfare, and perfectly timed betrayals that the producers still talked about like it was a documentary on tactical cruelty. She walked around camp like she owned the place, chin high, posture perfect, making it obvious she wasn’t here to grow, bond, or change—she was here to win, the same way she always had, without caring who shattered under her shoes along the way.

Scott was chaos wrapped in muscle, a walking hazard with a six-pack and a smirk that made everyone step back instinctively. Manipulative but messy, dangerous but entertaining, he ran the island like his personal crime ring with Tyler and Alejandro acting as his self-declared “goons,” even though half the time they barely knew what they were doing. He cheated shamelessly, started fights for fun, and sabotaged anything that moved just to keep the adrenaline up. His history with Gabrielle wasn’t something he ever confirmed, but the energy between them was sharp enough to slice the air. They weren’t a power couple—they were two storms crossing paths, leaving destruction behind. Chris, always hungry for chaos, forced them into a paired challenge, laughing behind the cameras like he had just handed the audience front-row seats to a live explosion

The cave challenge had been miserable from the start, a cramped maze of jagged stone that scraped skin and swallowed light, the kind of place only Chris McLean would consider “fun television.” Gabrielle took the lead with her usual cold impatience, moving through the narrow tunnels without hesitation until the cave walls suddenly narrowed into a choking bottleneck that pinned her shoulders tight. Stone pressed against her ribs, dust falling around her as she struggled to shift forward. Behind her, Scott’s footsteps slowed into a mocking rhythm, and the grin hit his face the moment he realized she wasn’t moving. He crouched down behind her like he was settling in to watch fireworks.

“Wow,” he said, voice dripping with entertained pity as he examined her stuck in the rock, “would ya look at that. Miss ‘I run the whole island’ losing a fight with a cave.” He rested his elbow on his knee, tilting his head like he was studying an exhibit. “Bet this wasn’t part of your perfect little plan, huh?” He didn’t touch her yet—he let the silence do the humiliating work, enjoying how the cameras zoomed in instantly. “Honestly, I should leave you here. Cave likes you better than the rest of us anyway.”

Only then did he grab her wrist, not gently, but like he was making a point. He pulled slowly—far too slowly—dragging her body against the stone so the walls scraped at her sides. His smirk widened with every inch she struggled free. “Come on, royalty,” he muttered, tugging harder, “try not to make the cave work harder than you do.”