The maze had fallen into an unnatural hush. The grinding of walls, the hiss of vents, the distant clank of shifting panels—all silenced by Noah's desperate pull on the master switch. What remained was the sound of breathing: ragged, terrified, human. And the soft, deliberate footsteps of a man who had come to finish what the traps had started.
Brady moved through the corridors like a shadow in a fake police uniform. The badge on his chest glinted under the dim emergency lights; the pistol in his hand felt heavier with every step. His face was a mask of cold fury—eyes narrowed, jaw clenched so tight the muscles twitched. He had watched every death on the monitors. He had listened to Beth's muffled sobs behind the duct tape. And now he was here to make sure no one else walked out alive.
He rounded a corner into the small alcove where DJ, Katie, and Sadie had taken refuge.
DJ sat slumped against the wall, massive arms wrapped protectively around the two girls. Katie was still crying quietly, her face buried in Sadie's shoulder. Sadie, only recently conscious again, stroked Katie's hair with trembling fingers, whispering empty reassurances. "It's gonna be okay… we're gonna be okay…"
The three of them looked up as Brady stepped into the light.
DJ's eyes widened. "Officer? You're… you're here to help us?"
Brady's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"Help," he repeated softly. "Yeah. I'm here to help."
He raised the pistol in one smooth motion.
DJ started to stand—too slow.
The first shot cracked through the alcove like thunder.
DJ's head snapped back. A neat red hole appeared between his eyes; the back of his skull exploded outward in a spray of bone and brain matter that painted the wall behind him. His huge body crumpled forward like a felled tree, landing with a heavy thud that shook the floor.
Katie screamed—a raw, piercing sound that echoed off the metal.
Sadie froze, eyes wide with shock, mouth open in a silent gasp.
Brady didn't hesitate.
The second shot hit Katie square in the forehead. Her scream cut off mid-note. Her body jerked once, then slumped sideways across Sadie's lap, blood pooling rapidly beneath her head, soaking into Sadie's already filthy clothes.
Sadie stared down at her best friend's lifeless face. No scream this time. Just a small, broken whimper.
Brady stepped closer.
Sadie looked up at him—eyes glassy, uncomprehending.
"Please…" she whispered.
The third shot was almost gentle in its precision. The bullet entered just above her right eyebrow and exited cleanly through the back. Sadie's head lolled sideways, resting against Katie's. Three bodies now, slumped together in a grotesque parody of comfort.
Brady lowered the gun. His breathing was steady. No remorse. No tremor in his hand.
He turned and walked away, boots leaving faint bloody prints behind him.
The maze swallowed the silence once more.
Meanwhile, at the far end of the labyrinth, a heavy steel door groaned open after what felt like an eternity.
Courtney, Ezekiel, and Gwen stumbled out into a wide, brightly lit chamber—the first real light they had seen in hours. Fluorescent bulbs hummed overhead. In the center of the room stood a simple metal table.
On it: a single, oversized novelty check.
**$10,000,000**
**Total Drama Chaos Grand Prize**
The ink still looked fresh.
Courtney stared at it, chest heaving.
"We… we made it," she whispered.
Gwen let out a shaky laugh that bordered on hysteria. "Holy crap. We actually made it."
Ezekiel just stood there, eyes wide, as if he couldn't believe the nightmare had an exit.
Then Courtney stepped forward, reaching for the check.
"Wait," Gwen said quickly. "We all got here together. We should split it. Three ways. Fair."
Courtney spun on her. "Fair? I carried us through half the traps! I strategized! I—"
"You strategized?" Gwen snapped back. "Ezekiel literally saved our lives twice in the last hour! He saw the dart trap before either of us did! If we're talking credit—"
"Credit?" Courtney's voice rose. "This is ten million dollars! You think we're just gonna divide it like birthday cake? I've been fighting for this since day one!"
Ezekiel raised his hands. "Guys… maybe we can—"
"No!" Courtney cut him off. "We're not kids playing house. This is real money. Real life. I'm not walking away with three-point-three million when I could have—"
Gwen stepped closer, eyes flashing. "You're unbelievable. We almost died in there. Together. And now you're ready to stab us in the back for a bigger slice?"
"It's not stabbing! It's—"
Their voices rose, echoing off the walls, overlapping in bitter accusation.
Behind them, the steel door they had just exited clicked shut again.
Locked.
They didn't notice.
At that same moment, in a different section of the maze—now eerily still—Chef Hatchet led his battered group around a final corner.
Leshawna, Harold, Izzy, Heather, and Lindsay followed close behind, flashlights cutting through the gloom. They were bruised, filthy, shell-shocked—but alive.
Ahead, in a small cleared space lit by a single overhead bulb, sat Noah and Eva.
Noah leaned against the wall, arms crossed, looking more exhausted than sarcastic for once. Eva sat nearby, knees drawn up, staring blankly at the floor—still processing Cody's and Tyler's deaths.
Chef stopped short.
"Well I'll be damned," he muttered.
Leshawna's face lit up despite everything. "Noah! Eva! You guys made it!"
Noah looked up slowly. "Chef? You're… alive?"
Chef nodded, voice rough. "Yeah. But Chris isn't."
Eva's head snapped up. "What?"
"Dead. Maze modules took his head clean off. Right in front of me in the control room. System went haywire, someone reached in from outside. Traps got worse until you flipped that switch, Noah."
Noah's eyes narrowed, genuine shock flickering across his face for the first time. "So… Chris is actually dead? Not just missing or pulling a stunt?"
Eva's fists clenched. "And you're only telling us now? Why didn't you use the speakers?"
Chef shook his head. "Mic was dead. Had to come down myself. The others already know—they were with me when I first broke the news."
Leshawna nodded, voice grim. "Yeah. It was awful hearing it. But at least we're not alone in the dark anymore."
Harold adjusted his glasses, voice trembling. "This… this explains everything. The chaotic trap behavior. External interference… and now no host."
Izzy grinned, but it was bitter now. "So his head got chopped off? Shame I didn't see it. But at least he's not laughing at us anymore."
Heather crossed her arms. "Don't be morbid, Izzy. But yeah… we know. Now Noah and Eva know too. So what's the plan, Chef? We getting out, or still playing corpse collector?"
Lindsay whimpered softly. "I just wanna go home… please…"
Noah slowly stood. "Traps are off—for now. But if someone flips it back on from outside, we're done. Someone really wants this nightmare to keep going."
Eva was already on her feet, fists clenched. "Then let's find that someone. Before they find us."
Chef nodded. "Agreed. But carefully. Something—or someone—is still in here with us."
In the distance, Brady's footsteps grew louder.
He had found fresh prey.
And he still had bullets.