Project Butterfly

Prologue

The Doctor no­­w past his prime and close to an early retirement sat in his office. Now choosing the quiet life of teaching at a university, he found peace there. Guilt free. His only concern was the welfare of his pupils' education. Slowly, he was putting his dark past behind him.

He cocked his head, hearing ­very precise and deliberate footsteps of two people in unison down the corridor. The Doctor instantly recognised that march-like walk and knew they were leading to him. His intuition in his fifty-six years of life had rarely let him down.

The footsteps stopped and the Doctor could see two silhouettes through the frosted glass panel in his office door. He took a shallow breath as he heard a luring knock.

"Enter." He said. His heart rate increased, but he was determined not to show panic.

Two men in uniform entered the room, their presence chilling. The Doctor recognised the older officer from a more sinister time in his life, although back then the he was much younger and not as high in the ranks. His face was now rougher, colder and held a few more scars. Somehow, the Doctor didn't think he was here for a friendly reunion.

The General nodded his head, more as a sign of respect than an indication of recognition.

"You know why we're here don't you?" His Southern American accent resounded with authority.

The Doctor took a deep, drawn-out breath.

"Yes."

"If you do not co-operate, you and your family will be executed." The General showed no emotion.

The other, a Colonel, was more like a shadow of the General than an individual and made no indication of involving himself in the conversation unfolding, yet showed a coldness and bitterness with urging eyes like the General.

The Doctor looked at the General's feet and his eyes ran up his body, loathing everything that he stood for. Although, grudgingly appreciating that he was only the messenger.

He realised the seriousness of this request and knew objecting was futile. He didn't have a family as such, but his own life's days would be numbered by refusing. The Doctor held eye contact with the General, showing no sign of the intimidation and fear that pulsed through his body.

"I'm in."

A bulky smile spread across the General's face, reminding the Doctor of a demented Cheshire cat.

"Good" He laughed through his teeth. He walked over to him and placed a strong hand on his shoulder. The hairs on the back of the Doctor's neck stand on end.

"Come, we have much work to do..."