Dårlig Ulv Stranden was a miserable place. A beach in Norway that was damp, cold and seemed to make everyone who visited the place feel gloomy. The terrible weather painted the beach the shade of granite and made the ocean look even colder than it was. It was almost as if there were something invisible draining the color from the place, and with it, all the happiness.
Very few people visited the beach. Which was why the figure that lay on the sands had gone unnoticed for so long, but if anyone had seen him then they would wonder how on Earth he managed to remain asleep as the waves lightly washed over his legs.
The figure was tall and had dark brown hair that curled down the side of his head and temple. His face was handsome, if a little pointed with its sharp distinctive features that made him look intelligence but fierce. If anyone looked at him they would assume him to have a job with the police as a detective or possibly be part of the armed forces as a sergeant or corporal, both of which would be incorrect for the man was neither.
The figures mouth suddenly opened and a cloud of golden vapor whisked into the air. As the golden glow faded to nothing, the Doctor opened his eyes and gasped in pain.
He sat up with a jolt and glanced around at the beach in alarm. His piercing blue eyes stared uncomprehendingly at the water and sand, tryng to make sense of the scene and figure out what was going on and why everything didn't make any sense.
Something was terribly wrong. He couldn't see it, but he knew it. Something awful was happening and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't put it together.
The Doctor brushed grains of sand from his cheeks and wiped away the drops of rain that ran down the bridge of his nose. He tried to remember how he had gotten to the beach and why he was there, but he couldn't recall anything.
"It's all wrong..." the Doctor whispered before blinking in surprise and clutching his throat. He was surprised by the sound of his voice, he was sure that it hadn't always sounded that way, he wasn't sure how he knew that, but he was sure none the less. "This is all wrong," he said, his voice sounding more alarmed by the second. "I don't know why this is wrong, but its wrong."
He flinched in surprise as the loud electronic beep of a mobile suddenly rang through the beach. It took him a moment to realise that the noise came from the pocket of the black suit he was wearing. He reached into his pocket and found a mobile phone, that he did not recognise, blaring away, the small screen flashing with a number he did not know.
He answered the phone and pressed it to his ear, but he did not speak, he only listened.
"It's up to you now Doctor," A warm, cheeky voice that sounded oddly familiar spoke on the other end of the phone. "I'm leaving everything in your hands. It's all up to you," it continued, the voice sounded as if it belonged to an English man in his thirties, the tone of his voice was so familiar that it made the Doctor feel frustrated that he couldn't put a face to it.
"Who are you?" He asked, ignoring the shiver in his body as the cold finally seeped into his system.
"Someone you trust," The voice replied, the humor absent from his tone. "Follow the clues Doctor, we'll meet again one day... now, turn around."