Welcome, fans of fanfiction, to my first Milo Murphy's Law/Phineas and Ferb fanfic. The Island of Lost Dakotas absolutely fascinates me, so I just had to write something about it. The cover image for this fic is "Guardian" by OMGitsEmeraldStar. You can find the full, uncropped picture on their DeviantArt page. And now, let's meet a Lost Dakota whose story has not yet been told…

Prologue: Conspiracy Theorist Dakota

I am the second Dakota to be sent to the Island of Lost Dakotas. But unlike Chief Dakota, I had no interest in helping our island society get up and running.

I happen to be different from the other Lost Dakotas… but not in the way Cannibal Dakota is different. Or Really Smelly Dakota. Or Birthday Suit Dakota. Why are all the Lost Dakotas so different from each other? Is it some instinct that helps us differentiate each Lost Dakota from the next? Or does it have to do with how Cavendish died before Dakota Prime when back and saved him?

I'm getting off topic. That is not what I set out to write about today.

Anyway, while the other Lost Dakotas are fine with working in our factories and watching Cavendish during Movie Night, I am not. I sit in my hut pretty much all day, trying to solve the biggest questions about the origins of this place.

Why does Cavendish keep dying?

Why does Dakota Prime keep saving him?

And why can't I shake the feeling that there is a larger story in play, one that we Lost Dakotas haven't been told?

…

"Hey, Conspiracy Theorist Dakota. Earth to Conspiracy Theorist Dakota."

Conspiracy Theorist Dakota jumped. He spun around in his stool, where he was sitting at a roughly-carved desk, writing in a leather-bound journal.

Chief Dakota was standing in the doorway of the hut. "We're ready to go. Thanks for helping us load up the orange soda, by the way."

Conspiracy Theorist Dakota frowned at the sarcasm. "Yeah, yeah. I'll be right there. Just let me finish this entry."

"You've got five minutes, not a second longer." Chief Dakota said as he walked away.

Sighing, Conspiracy Theorist Dakota turned, and proceed to add one last paragraph to his journal.

…

And now I'm heading back to Danville with my fellow Lost Dakotas, Dakota Prime, Cavendish, the man who will become Professor Time, a platypus in a fedora, some 1960s TV show creator, and enough orange soda to drench the entire Tri-State Area. Will our return reveal the answers to the questions I long to solve? Or will I forever be remembered on the Island as a crackpot?