Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who.

EARTH, 2019 AD

STAFFORD

Inspector Larry Wilder frowned, wondering why something so simple as finding a few Danish tourists could be so difficult. The call had come in a few hours earlier, saying that a family of three vacationing from Copenhagen had missed their flight, and that the Danish Embassy had called Scotland Yard to assist in the search.

Except those officers never came back.

The Staffordshire police division had soon been ordered by London to find both the tourists and the missing officials from Scotland Yard. Wilder's superior hadn't understood the problem with taking the case.

The problem? The last place the Danes had been seen was the local "haunted" castle, which was notorious for people going missing on a random basis. Even some officers had disappeared over the past several years.

Chief Inspector Archer Greenlee had overruled all of his underlings' protests and decided to have them investigate anyway.

"The five of us will check things out inside," Greenlee announced shortly after all officers present exited their vehicles. He gestured to Wilder and two others. "You three stay out here." His eyes narrowed. "Don't cause trouble."

Wilder glanced at the others, noticing one was giving a single-fingered salute behind the backs of the departing officers. He dropped it as soon as he noticed Wilder watching, ashamed.

"Watch it, son," the Inspector said sternly. "You may be new, but you need to be better than that."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

Wilder folded his arms, sighing. "This bloody sucks."

"No kidding," a fellow Inspector, Jenkins, muttered. "First, we lose some Danes, and now Scotland Yard can't do their own job properly?"

"Better not be those things with the plungers again," a Constable, Miller, complained. "You remember what happened back in '09?"

Wilder nodded, recalling the planets in the sky, and the horrors afterward. "How can anyone forget?"

"Now's not the time to bring that up, Miller," Jenkins chastised. "Our superiors are working on this; they'll be back."

Wilder sneered. "Yeah. While we're left on guard duty. Again."

Miller raised an eyebrow. "So, let me get this straight: you two are Inspectors, and Greenlee hasn't let either of you in on any of the action yet?"

"Not since he took over this past November," Jenkins admitted. "And it's not just us; it's all the officers with a different skin colour than him."

"So, he's a racist arse."

"I was trying to be polite." Jenkins frowned. "But, yes."

Miller folded his arms. "Man, just wait until we get in on the action! I'd love to see the look on his face when we show him that we're not incompetent!"

Jenkins and Wilder nodded approvingly.

Wilder wasn't sure how much time had passed after that, but the weather outside was making himself and the others painfully aware of the cold winters in northern England.

"Have they found anything yet?" Jenkins asked.

Wilder snorted, checking his wristwatch. "It's been an hour."

"In case you lot haven't noticed this place is too damn big to get anything done in less than an hour!" Miller retorted, gesturing to the castle.

Wilder folded his arms. Valid point. "We'll give them another forty minutes. If they're not back out by then, we'll radio."

Just under twenty minutes had gone by before Wilder's radio buzzed to life. "This is Greenlee!" the voice of their superior hollered. "Does anybody copy? I need backup! There are these things, these—"

The last thing the three heard before the transmission was reduced to static was Archer Greenlee's bloodcurdling scream.

Jenkins activated her radio. "Greenlee, this is Jenkins. Do you copy?"

Static.

She tried again. "Greenlee, this is Jenkins. Please respond!"

Static.

Miller sighed. "It's no use, Jenkins. We ain't getting shit."

Wilder loaded a clip into his pistol. "Well, you heard the man. Let's get in there."

The others nodded, following Wilder's actions. A couple of minutes later, they entered the castle, torches lighting.

"This place gives me the creeps," Miller remarked, the light reflecting off his dark skin. He pointed his torch to the right. "Isn't that where Queen Elizabeth I did her beheadings?"

"Probably," Wilder responded, gulping. "I'd rather not find out, thank you very much."

Jenkins shook her head, black curls bouncing in all directions. "Come on, you two."

Wilder wasn't sure how much time had passed as they ventured deeper into the castle. He kept getting a strange vibe, one that kept screaming for them to get the hell out.

But they couldn't. They had a job to do.

Jenkins's radio crackled, startling them. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

The woman sighed exasperatedly, activating it. "Greenlee, this is Jenkins. Are you alright, sir?"

"Of course, I'm fine," the man reassured them, his voice oddly cheerful. "Is there anyone with you?"

"Yes, sir," Jenkins confirmed. "Wilder and Miller are here as well. Where are you?"

"Are you in the castle?"

Jenkins rolled her eyes. "Yes, sir, we're in the castle. Where the hell are you?"

"Just keep going."

Jenkins raised an eyebrow, exchanging confused looks with the rest of the group. "Can you repeat, sir?"

"Just keep going."

Miller frowned. "Okay," he said slowly, glancing at them. "Didn't that seem odd to you?"

"Yeah," Jenkins responded. "He's never that cheerful, especially when he's around officers like us." The Inspector's lip curled in distaste at that last part.

"Racist bastard or not, he's still our superior," Wilder reminded them sternly. "We should at least see if he's okay."

Jenkins sighed. "Damn it, Wilder. If this shit goes south, I'm gonna haunt your ass."

"Fine by me."

Several minutes passed by, the exit vibe screaming louder and louder throughout Wilder's entire being. One quick glance at his squadmates told him that they had felt it, too.

They paused. Jenkins folded her arms. "Anyone get the feeling we're being watched?"

Miller nodded. They looked to their right, seeing a mirror. All three black officers saw their reflection, as well as some rather angry-looking statues behind them, staring accusingly at the mirror.

"Well, if that's not a sign to bugger off, I don't know what is," Miller remarked, voice wavering.

"Maybe the Danes got chicken and bailed?" Wilder suggested hopefully.

"Honestly…" Miller was uncertain at this point. "Is this some sort of prank or something?"

"Hell if I know." Wilder sighed. "Let's find the others and get the heck out of here."

"Second," Miller and Jenkins said in unison.

The deeper they went, the worse the feeling became. At first, Wilder thought it was fear. Now, he realised it was dread.

"There's something up ahead," Miller announced, breaking Wilder out of his brooding. The three shone their torches forward, landing on a human-like figure on the ground.

"That looks like a body," Wilder breathed.

"No shit, Sherlock," Jenkins retorted. "Let's check it out."

They walked slowly towards it, stopping only about a metre or so away.

"Oh my God," Jenkins whispered, recoiling.

Wilder gagged.

Miller vomited to their left.

There was definitely a corpse in front of them, all right. The spinal cord looked to have been ripped clean out of the poor man's body, parts of the brain exposed. To the right of the body, a Chief Inspector's cap lay uselessly, covered in blood. A police radio crackled, the identifying number on his vest belonging to—

"Greenlee," Wilder breathed.

Jenkins's lip curled in disgust. "Looks like he's been dead for a few hours." Her eyes narrowed. "But then…who contacted us?"

Oh shit…oh shit, we're really fucked now. It was Wilder's turn to vomit. When he finished, he looked at the others, eyes wide with terror as he wiped his mouth. "We need to get out of here. Now!"

"What about everyone else?" Miller asked.

"To hell with them!" Wilder snapped. "This is not just a major incident now; it's a death trap! Whatever's here, it's after us. We need backup before we can do anything else!"

The others nodded wordlessly. They turned around, running as fast as they could away from their superior's corpse.

"Which way to the exit?" Jenkins asked, panic clear in her voice now.

Miller pointed to a hallway on their left. "This way! Hurry!"

They kept running. Two corridors later, their torches went out.

"Shit," Jenkins muttered.

Wilder was far less calm. "WHAT THE FUCK DO WE DO NOW?"

They stopped, hyperventilating as they tried to get the torches back on, failing each time.

"Well, this isn't good," Miller said angrily. "Anyone got a lighter?"

Wilder dug through his pocket, finding his own. "Got it." He lit the flame, grabbing a wooden rod from the wall. "This should work." He turned, seeing a scared expression on Jenkins's face, a shaking hand pointing at something behind them. Wilder blinked, and, suddenly, inexplicably, Jenkins was gone.

"HOLY SHIT!" Miller screamed, panicking.

"Laura?" Wilder hollered. "LAURA!"

"Where is she?!" Miller asked, terror clear in his voice. He looked in the direction Jenkins had just disappeared from. "Uh…Inspector?" He tapped Wilder on the shoulder. "Larry, there's something over there." He turned. "And there's something in front of you, too."

Wilder looked about wildly, just in time to see Miller disappear before his eyes. His heart leapt to his throat. "BRUCE? LAURA?" He turned around, seeing a wicked-looking statue in front of him. He backed up, terrified.

A cold hand seized his shoulder, and suddenly, everything within the corridor was gone.