#dr. diggins

However much Richmond’s fervour helped fossil fighting to thrive, it was deleterious to other businesses on the island. (Were it not for Bullwort’s dogged determination, the police would have all but imploded in all but name; meanwhile, almost no non-fighting related trade brings in considerable revenue. It’s quite worrying to consider what would eventuate from a major dino medal provider’s collapse.) Worse than the price paid by the police and people, however, was that paid by Lyn and Russel. Four years after the 1998 birth of their daughter, Rosetta, they were assigned a new mission. Diggins and Richmond had just discovered the Secret Island via radar screening, and were salivating for information. The couple left on Tuesday the 9th of July, and after sending confirmation of their arrival on Wednesday night, sent back nothing. Richmond distracted himself from his accumulating consternation by organising a search party for Monday. Bullwort, insomniac and distracted with deep, deep dread, bullied Diggins into admitting the location of the Secret Island on Saturday night, and left the next morning.

Bullwort quickly found his way to the ruins of the Starship. The entrance had caved in, and beneath the rubble... Two long, limp, rotten objects…

Russel and Lyn dead too soon. He took them back to the mainland and sobbed all the long night and all morning. To honour them, he returned to the island two days later, and cleaned up the collapsed doorway with Amargo’s power scale. When he did, another chunk of land thundered down, striking him in the middle of the back. He returned bitter over both the deaths and the injury.

Richmond was horrified. If he’d been a little less callous, his daughter-in-law and son would still be alive. Now, here they lay, six feet beneath his heels. Grateful to Bullwort, he promoted him to police chief on the 20th. Then, as if the newly declared sergeant regent hadn’t cleaned up the Secret Island, he barred it to all visitors, insisting that the Starship was too sensitive a matter to be known to the public. Bullwort’s ephemeral pride vanished. In its place, loathing sprung up. His promotion, he decided, was for arriving too late to change what mattered most – in other words, for being weak. This wasn’t honour – this was humiliation, and all because of Richmond’s shallow love of dino medals. That man could not be fit to rule. Bullwort could. He maintained a veneer of cordiality with Richmond, but from July 20 onwards, to him, their relationship was well and truly in livor mortis.

Bullwort founded the BB Bandits as the anti-Richmond mafia – everything they did was to disrupt fighters wherever possible. They began as a lucrative fossil black market trader, dealing in rare vivosaurs and miraculous/wondrous fossils. By legal standards, the prices were ugly, but compared to other vendors, they were beyond lucrative. (Saurhead was infamously intercepted mid gold head fossil transaction – but while the press censured him, the public couldn’t help but empathise.) These operations briefly drove Vivosaur Island’s economic growth into the ground. Unfortunately for Bullwort, Diggins responded with two initiatives which have made the Island the richest Fossil Eden worldwide: Establishing fighter levels and level-up battles, and found the Donation Points scheme. The former fuelled tourism while allowing Diggins to bar dangerous and archaeologically vulnerable dig sites to the public. The latter meant that fighters could obtain vivosaurs such as Stego, Spino, and Compso for no price but an annual fee.

The majority of recruitments into the Bandits were black-market based: if one was caught trading one time too many, it’d be easier to join them than to face an absurd jail sentence. The fear of the authorities bred a culture of paranoia and despotism amongst the grunts, meaning that Bullwort could easily ask one of his flightier underlings to carry out some deranged measures. Medal-stealing wasn’t uncommon, but occasionally, grunts turned to attacking fighters with a mind to kill. Beth infamously had her shoulders and her clavicle broken by a BB Bandit intent on murder – ever since that incident, Diggins has pressured Richmond into increasing dig site security. All male BB grunts must shave their heads, and all grunts, regardless of sex, must don the oppressively drab uniforms. It’s meant to prevent police from recognising individuals at a distance, but it’s despised – Snivels was never actually promoted, but gained valence amongst his peers for refusing to obey the dress code.

Most non-black market Bandit operations involve defacing dig sites in degrees ranging from graffiti to arson. Bullwort drew the line at cave-ins – that would be too painful after Lyn and Russel’s deaths. The majority of his most dramatic stunts were executed in Knotwood Forest, where he terrorised the residents and chieftain into directing him to Frigi, vandalised the Digadigamid, and stole numerous artefacts. Whilst the BB Bandits never traded the latter, they did steal particularly beautiful relics from dig sites all around, with Bullwort typically hoarding them.

The Bandits’ market operations, led by Vivian, made Bullwort rich very, very quickly. As he’d never had an awful lot of money prior to this, he quickly became drunk on cash, exchanging his morals for avarice and deluskon. Bullwort had always planned to obtain Frigi to stage his coup in the Guild Area – but after twelve years of Cain-raising, he built up a capacity for spite and pettiness that hadn’t been present initially. Originally, he wanted to covertly control the islands. By 2014, he’d given up on them, and thought he’d be better off as a glorious dictator than a fool attempting to save a hopeless slab of land.  

Bullwort’s arrest didn’t collapse the Bandits, but currently, they’re nothing more than an economic nuisance dominating the black market. Sometimes, they engage with the other two B syndicates to spread chaos. But ever since the Caliosteo Cup, Joe’s made it nigh-impossible for the Bandits to access miraculous/wondrous fossils as before, which has driven away most of their clientele who weren’t lost to the DP scheme. Vivian’s considering moving the Bandits into more general illegal trade, such as drug trafficking – however, since Bullwort’s departure, her conscience has inflated, making that difficult to consider. It’s likely that after she leaves, the Bandits will simply pack up and go home to their wives, husbands, mothers, fathers, grandparents, children, sisters, and brothers.

However momentous Bullwort’s arrest was, Vivosaur Island’s citizens paid dearly for it. Thanks to his iron grip on his men, almost all crime on Vivosaur Island other than disruption to fossil was eradicated. Without him, the forces have slid back into incompetency. Bullwort could likely break out if he wanted to, but ever since his wife donated an easel to his cell, he’s been quite content to paint behind bars. As long as they don’t give him carrot sandwiches, there’s no point for him in escaping – for wherever he goes, he’ll face poverty, ignominy, and dissatisfaction.

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Thank you so much to @biblical-mythconceptions for requesting this topic! I’d never really considered the BB Bandits before, so this was huge, huge fun! I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it. 

Later, when Joe was headed back to Caliosteo to explore Zongazonga’s tomb, Diggins (still in the mammoth-hide toga) pleaded like a man with his life on the line that Joe reconsider. He’d read more into the lore than Joe had, though neither of them anticipated Joe getting possessed. Joe laughed it off, and sorely regretted it later.

Following the possession, Dynal (unaware) found himself in need of accommodation briefly on Caliosteo. Zongazonga, knowing that the relationship would be too eclectic to fake, decided he’d blow his cover if he accepted him, so he refused. Dynal lost most of his respect for Joe, though interestingly, Zonga did get the ‘addressing him as “king” thing’ right.

 Dr. Diggins stares straight-faced at King Dynal as the alien holds up one of his available white knights. Dynal had his lips peeled back into a snarl but not out of maliciousness.

 “The knight,” Diggins patiently explains. “It’s designed in such a way to mimic the horse a medieval knight would ride upon into battle. It moves in the L-shape to represent that a horse can make a movement or overcome an obstacle that a human cannot.”

 Dynal stares at the figure in his hands before back at Diggins. He then places it back onto its designated starting position on the board, “I prefer if your horses made their own decisions.”

 The professor chuckles, “Oh, believe me, horses have quite a mind of their own. It’s one thing to tame one but it’s another to get it to do what you say- Have you ever heard the saying ‘You can lead a horse to water but you cannot make it drink?’”

 He’s given a flat stare in response, “No.”

 “Well… It means much the same. You can allow the animal or person to follow you tamely, but would they do as you wished at the destination in the end?”

 “I would rather not have philosophical talks in a strategy game. Thank you, very much,” and the alien reptile is back to staring at the board in thought, glowering regally.

 Dr. Diggins gives a light sigh and slumps in his seat. Even in his own private office, he cannot escape the tense thoughts of trying to please everyone. He does at least pat himself on the back how he had donated much of his more aggravating board games years ago. If this goes well, he can at least introduce Dynal to playing card games next like Go Fish and War.

 How had the two gotten into this situation?

 As soon as much of the Dinurians had settled onto Earth and all the nation-wide government red tape and documents sorted… Dynal had been caught in a rut.

 He was still a leader to his people and much as a spokesperson as he could be as a king. His people looked up to him and would get plenty of messages for help on how to organize their new lives now they were out of stone sleep and away from the behemoth of a ship they had escaped from their home world generations ago. Nowadays he had a more streamlined process of ambassadors and helpers to help sort out the few stragglers still deciding on how to spend their new life on Earth.

 Dynal had found himself having a lot more free time these days.

 Duna, Hunter, and Rosie liked to show him around Vivosaur Island when he was able to take a break. Raptin was even invited along after he was done with his community service. The four teens preferred to either enter dig sites or drag Dynal over to some shop or vendor. He seemed to only be half-interested in their endeavors to show him what the world had to offer. Dynal still kept his dinomatons on him and never excavated a vivosaur. Nearly every store he went into disinterested the king and he’d only buy sodas and sandwiches at cafes.

 Diggins had caught glances of the rag-tag group of misfits and had even said hello to them a few times. Each time, Diggins had thought to himself how lost Dynal appeared. It started to occur to him if the dinurian had any adult friends or anyone outside the group of teens to talk to.

 He had put his foot down upon seeing Dynal in typical tourist gear after exiting a clothing store. Even the four teens were averting their gaze to pretend as if the tall and lean dinurian king in a bright Hawaiian shirt, khakis, and crocs was a stranger.

 Dynal pushes another pawn forward, “Your move.”

 Dr. Diggins regards the open spaces on the board and moves one of his knights to the right, “Let’s see where this goes…”

 King Dynal narrows his eyes into slits, concentrating. A clawed hand is put to his chin as he rakes through all the rules to see what he can do next.

 A minute ticks by, then two. Dr. Diggins idly reaches a hand up and scratches at the prehistoric feline fur shirt he wore under his lab coat.

 Dynal scowls, an ear flickering in irritation, “Must you continue to wear a dead skin?”

 Diggins’ eyebrows crease and his hand drops to his side, “I think it’s quite stylish.”

 “Coarse fur like that is for winter, and you’re scratching yourself every few clicks.”

 “At least it’s comfortable,” Diggins huffs and slouches. He looks back down at the board, eager to see what Dynal’s next move is going to be.

 Dynal goes back to his deep thoughts, a claw reaching out to one piece before pulling back and then reaching again for another piece and hesitating once more. Minutes tick by again.

 “Do you need help?” Dr. Diggins sits up straighter.

 Sniffing, Dynal gives a light shake of his head, “Why offer help to your opponent?”

 “Because this is a game and games are supposed to be fun,” the darker skinned man gestures to the board. “Looks like the pawn you just moved earlier has made space for your rook. There’s also space for your bishop to move if you want to get a head start.”

 His reptilian eyes narrow. Dynal holds that stare for a moment longer before fixing his gaze back down onto the board. A minute passes before he does as Diggins suggested and advances his bishop.

 Diggins can’t help but let a small smile slip out.

 “After all, the only way to beat an opponent is to learn from them,” Dynal’s thin lips become a snake-like smirk.

 This doesn’t dower the time-traveling paleontologist in the slightest. Dr. Diggins takes a few seconds to decide and moves another pawn.

 They go back and forth until Dr. Diggns places his queen a few spaces diagonal before Dynal’s king, “Check.”

 A sneer escapes Dynal, a soft growl of disappointment leaving his lips, “I see.”

 So he sits and ponders what his next move shall be. They’ve each taken a fair share of one another’s pieces yet still have their kings. Dynal has two knights and Diggins keeps a bishop and his queen.

 “I surrender,” Dynal folds his hands together. “Let’s play again.”

 “Really?” This surprises the professor and he adjusts his glasses. “So soon? Wouldn’t you like to-”

 The Dinurian King is already setting up his pieces back into position, “I’m sure. There’s much to learn when given the temptation of fair play.”

 There’s a thin layer of fondness, Diggins finds, upon Dynal’s face. He doesn’t push it, giving a small, shy smile as he also places his pieces back onto the board.

 Dynal ends up having more pieces cornering Dr. Diggins’ side of the board. He meekly puts a rook in front of his King, “I see there might be no way out of this one.”

 “A shame,” claw-like reptilian hands place the opposing knight within optimal position against the opposing king. “Check.”

 Diggins dryly chuckles, “I’ll give you this win then. I’m cornered.”

 Dyanl preens at that, holding his hands once more. Who knew he was such a fast learner?

 “How about best two out of three rounds?” The paleontologist starts placing his pieces onto the board again.

 “Hmph! Very well,” Dynal copies. “Prepare to taste defeat once more, now that we are at a final confrontation.”

 “As we humans say: Bring it.”

 This match goes on for much longer. Each side taking minutes to decide on their next maneuver before placing their pieces in different positions. The sun steadily dips closer and closer towards the cerulean horizon of the sea outside. Long shadows are cast from the two in direct opposition of the window.

 “Check.”

 Dynal’s Queen is diagonal from Diggins’ king.

 Dr. Diggins adjusts his glasses and carefully looks over the board. The light from the sunset outside his window reflects onto his spectacles.

 “Do you yield?” There’s a lilt of confidence in Dynal’s voice. Hope in a surrender from his foe.

 “…not yet,” Diggins moves his King towards the side and out of harm’s way. “I have more pieces.”

 “Oh?” Dynal tilts his head slowly to one side. He doesn’t elaborate.

 After some thought, Diggins moves his last pawn into the pathway of Dynal’s queen, “Your turn.”

 The pawn is overtaken but the king escapes. Two knights chase one another around the board. A rook edges around the outside as a bishop overtakes the pawn…

 “Check.”

 Dr. Diggins now has his last knight in opposition to Dynal’s king.

 A claw taps against the table slowly in thought, “My, my…”

 “Give in?”

 Dynal doesn’t answer. He gauges the board with its four remaining pieces before slowly moving his king out of range, “Plenty of time in the world.”

 There was a lot more time these days.

 The knight is overtaken finally by Dynal’s queen and Dr. Diggins snatches his opponent’s queen with his knight… The queen is overtaken by a rook and…

 “Checkmate.”

 Dr. Diggins is able to dethrone Dyna’s king piece and win.

 He expects a low snarl and the demand to play once more despite the stars already shining outside and the sun far below the waves.

 King Dynal just chuckles and folds his claws together, “Well, well. I have plenty of more to learn, it seems.”

 The professor smiles at him, “I’m very happy you enjoyed this. I am afraid, however, that we’re going to have to stop for today.”

 “Very well,” Dynal looks out the window and sees how dark it’s become. “Do you mind if we schedule another time?”

 “Not at all! How about same time every Thursday?”

 “Thursday…” He has to remember the Earth calendar after having the chess board and each pieces movement seared into his brain, “Yes, I will make time.”

 “Splendid!” Dr. Diggins starts to pack away the board and pieces, “I haven’t had anyone to play with in quite some time. I’m excited to do this regularly again.”

 His last regular opponent was Rosie when she was no older than six when her grandfather needed a last-minute babysitter. She demanded then that the queens be the most important piece on the board and that the game became something more like roleplay. Little Rosie had even made the bishops into jesters and knights into horses.

 “Then I hope you will be thinking of newer strategies to decimate my armies,” Dynal tuts. He stands up and adjusts his long sweeping robes and hair as elegantly as the clouds on Saturn, “I will be doing the same.”

 “Great! Maybe I’ll put on a pot of tea or make sandwiches as well.”

 “Dr. Diggins,” the professor turns to see Dynal with his hands folded together. He’s surprised and stops to pay attention as the dinurian continues, “Thank you.”

 “Of course, it’s only tea and sandwiches-”

 “I meant in thanks for the company.”

 “Ah…” Dr. Diggins adjusts his glasses.

 His pale blue hands stiffly tighten around one another, “I have not adjusted to Earth and life after Guhnash as well as my people. It has been hard to make newer connections these days. So I thank you for extending a hand towards me again. I hope we can become good friends, in due time.”

 A pause. Face blank.

 There’s a soft smile from Diggins, “It’s alright. Pleasure was all mine. I hope we too will become good friends. In due time, of course.”

 Dynal’s thin smile is warm, comforting even. His eyes twinkle like distant stars, “It is late. I shan’t keep you from dinner any longer than I have. Good night.”

 “Good night,” well-wishes exchanged, Diggins watches Dynal leave his office.

 Right on cue, his stomach rumbles. His mind goes back to sandwiches. Something with melted cheese and pork between some crispy bread…

 Now that he thinks about it, Duna had mentioned at one point or another that Dynal’s favorite food was ‘space sandwiches’ of all things. What would that be? And how could he replicate something like that one Earth?