LAKE NYANZA, WAKANDA

Monica Rambeau had filled many roles in her lifetime, masquerading as one iteration of the enviable Captain Marvel amongst them, but as she found herself fighting an indescribable threat at the side of T’Challa, the King of Wakanda and the recently returned Black Panther, and Adam Brashear, the scientific warrior known better to the world as Blue Marvel, even Photon wondered if she was finally out of her depth. Hot off the heels of her recent return to heroism, as a member of the short-lived Secret Avengers, Photon was finding the seemingly alien threats equal parts terrifying and awe-inspiring. None seemed similar, each was unique in appearance despite the black ooze that dripped from their bodies. Rising from Lake Nyanza, they threatened the Wakandan people and Monica, much like Adam, had been amongst the first to heed the nation’s distress signal.

T’Challa was not a man of pride. Where his country and its people were concerned, there could be no room for bravado and, when he had realised that this was a fight that even he might not have been able to win, he had summoned reinforcements. Shortly after the battle had begun, Monica and Adam have arrived by his side, but they hadn’t been alone . . . at least, there had been more than the three heroes initially. Wanda Maximoff, a long-time friend and ally to the Panther better known by the sobriquet Scarlet Witch, had briefly stood by their side before she had dispersed into the aether between realities in a blast of crimson energies. She had been his ally for years but in the recent months, since he had dedicated his life to reclaiming the title of the Black Panther, she had become more of a friend and nurse. Her magics were the only reason the once great King of Wakanda could walk unassisted, not to mention fight the foes he now faced.

As he lashed forward, the vibranium claws tearing at that which resembled the skin of the beast that reached him first, the Black Panther reminded his companions just how majestic he could be, even against a backdrop of oily blood and chaos in his expansive lands. Photon allowed her body to disperse amidst the electromagnetic spectrum, and Blue Marvel continued to cast bolts of antimatter into oncoming foes. His eyes shone beneath the glistening silver mask, tarnished only by the blue M, as he extended his hands and pictured the creatures dismantling before his eyes. Transmutation was but one of the multitude of abilities the exploding reactor had imbued him with all those years beforehand. Much to his surprise, and concern, the creatures continued to plough forward, undeterred. Their bodies shifting and reforming as if he had done little more than swat at them like a fly.

Adam was unaccustomed to his powers failing, if that was even the case. A small amount of backlash flashed in his mind, the creatures – whatever they were – were inconsistent, their forms changed constantly on a molecular level. There was nothing he could latch onto unless he could define a pattern. With no time for such formulations, the Blue Marvel reacted as heroes tended to do . . . he barrelled forward and used his fists. Black Panther slid behind him, thrown into the air by one of the creatures, the King of Wakanda landed gracefully on all fours and shot a glare – hidden beneath the mask except for the narrowing of his eyes into catlike slits – towards his enemy. As a creature charged upon him from behind a bolt of light struck the earth and an explosion washed over him, recharging the unique machinations of his vibranium suit and revealing Photon when the dust had settled.

“I hope you didn’t miss me.”

T’Challa, Monica and Adam turned to rest their eyes on the girlish features of the Scarlet Witch, a swirl of red energy closing behind her just as a lanky man in an all-too familiar suit, that once worn by Giant-Man of the Avengers, trailed behind her. His eyes full of wide-eyed wonder. This wasn’t Hank Pym, the skin-tone – sun-kissed and almost caramel coloured – were enough to prove that. He quickly fell in step with the witch, approaching the scene with hesitation that shifted into reverence as he closed in on the king. T’Challa drew his claws through the oozing flesh of his foe, landing a kick squarely in its chest and knocking it backwards. His mind, strategic and focused, would never allow a distraction to misdirect his attention for long. He was keenly aware that they remained in a battle for the safety of the Wakandan people and those who moved beyond the African kingdom’s boundaries.

“We could use your assistance,” he said with a grunt. He was grateful she’d returned to their side but confused as to why she’d saw fit to abandon them in the first place. T’Challa was acutely aware that it wasn’t worth his time to question the actions and motivations of the long-time Avenger. There was little time for talk. Monica and Adam had already re-entered the fray. “If you aren’t too busy.”

“This is an . . . It’s an honour, sir. I mean, King,” the man attired as Giant-Man bumbled as he walked forwards. He’d momentarily extended his hand, eager to make an impression on the Wakandan ruler. However, seemingly thinking better of it, he instead offered a bow. Both Wanda and T’Challa were surprised by the formality.

“There’s a time for being honoured, son,” replied Black Panther. “That comes when the fight has been won. I’m not sure why you’ve been brought here but presume you have powers. Use them to rid Wakandan of this scourge.”

Reverently, the Indian-American hero nodded. He watched as Black Panther and Scarlet Witch rushed towards the continuing fray in a blur of black and crimson before he allowed his mind to clear of the chaos. Instinctively, Raz Malhotra’s body arced and stretched until he grew to a form more befitting of the costume he wore. No longer simply the lanky scientist, Giant-Man towered far above Lake Nyanza and he seemed to immediately gain the attention of the dark aliens that oozed from beneath the waters.

The reprieve ended, the battle recommenced as the heroes clashed against the Aspirants.

Black Panther was thrown through the air, his vibranium claws outstretched, but as he reached for the ground to control his collision, he flipped and rolled to a stop. Dazed, on his back, the King of Wakanda looked skyward to find the menacing frame of yet another Aspirant. Despite the same oozing onyx that dripped from their flesh, the Wakandan remained amazed at the diversity within their population. He felt the tensing in his legs, the witch’s spell was wearing thin. The Aspirant stared down at him, it’s white framed features reminiscent of the grill on many of the old cars he’d seen on his adventures in the West. It’s oozing hand shifted, melting, and ultimately reformed into a scythe that towered above the King. Black Panther prepared to strike, unwilling to be felled in such a manner, but he soon realised, he had no reason for concern.

“Get away from him,” commanded the scarlet-hued enchantress as she hurtled through the air, colliding with the soft earth that his vibranium claws had already torn asunder. She postured, it was wrathful and unlike the delicate persona the King was more accustomed too. Her fingers moved intricately, forming shapes and patterns that only she knew as she narrowed her glowing eyes, the hex bolt surging to life at her whim. “I won’t ask twice.”

The Aspirant cocked its head, momentarily distracted by her presence. Yet, like so many foes before it, the Aspirant perceived no threat in the heart-shaped, girlish features of the woman who threatened it. Instead, it emitted a gravelly roar before lunging the scythe towards the Wakandan King. It was a blow that would never reach its target.

With an unbecoming grunt, the Scarlet Witch unleashed her hex bolt. It soared through the space between them, a crimson whistle on the wind, before it connected with the Aspirant. Its body absorbed the blast only to be overwhelmed from within. Crimson cracks appeared across the onyx flesh and the creature erupted, another foe dispersed into the aether between the realities Wanda Maximoff controlled. She was quick to react; her knowledge of the King had grown over the last several months as she had played his nurse. With precise movements, the energies she commanded rolled across his armour and with a simple tug, Black Panther was pulled towards her.

Her mastery of her gifts improved with every passing day she’d spent beneath the blistering Wakandan sun, a land where the expectations of her where freer and less focused on the tumultuous past that had led to her former role as an Avenger. Words weren’t exchanged as the Witch dropped to her knees, allowing the broken earth to rise around them, and tucked the chestnut strands of hair behind her ear. Silently, the Scarlet Witch wove her spells on the fragile lower limbs of T’Challa. Despite the effortlessness of her actions, he knew the strain she faced in combatting the magics of the Asgardian Lorelei. Calculated and precise as a surgeon, the crimson sorcery wove his broken muscles and ligaments back into place.

A temporary relief for an ailment that seemed impossible to overcome.

In the seconds that she took to strengthen his legs, Black Panther allowed his keen mind to survey the area around him. The battle continued, even if the pair now found themselves in a respite. Blue Marvel, aloft and glimmering, drew the Aspirants to him like a moth to a flame. His transmutation blasts scourging through their ranks, unfortunately, it seemed to be of little avail. Photon, as she was prone to do in her reactionary mindset, thrust her electromagnetic form through the Aspirants like a torpedo. Much as they had before, their bodies would be broken yet found the ability to reform. Giant Man, the unknown hero to the King, thrashed rapidly and without restraint. His lack of training evident in his movements.

Still, despite the futility of their endeavour, Black Panther gleamed a piece of knowledge that could act as their saviour.

With each blow his allies delivered to the Aspirants, there was a glowing in the heart of Lake Nyanza. The artefact on which they had crash-landed into his realm. Black Panther may have been uncomfortable when working with hypotheticals, but he was quick to realise that the heroes gathered could only hold the Aspirants at bay on the shore for so long before they faltered. The Dora Milaje and Hatut Zeraze, formidable as they were, would eventually fall beneath the horde of aliens and the Golden City would be taken. He had to try anything.

Sensation surged through his legs and allowed Black Panther to pounce to his feet, almost as though he had never been injured. He searched the scene for a second longer before dropping his eyes to the witch.

“Wanda,” he said, low and rasping. “I need you, Blue Marvel and this Giant-Man to hold the creatures back. I think with Photon’s assistance, I may be able to end this once and for all.”

She nodded, taking several steps away from the King before she surged skyward with the powers that she, at times, barely seemed capable of containing. Scarlet Witch landed amidst the alien army, the waves of energy she emitted rolling through their forces. Black Panther, as quick as the creature for which he’d been named and imbued with the gifts of the Goddess Bast, launched forward with his mind on one target only: Photon. He skidded through the Aspirants, his claws tearing through the flesh of those he passed until he slid to a stop beside Photon, as she prepared to make what seemed to be a final stand.

“Monica, the ship they landed in, we must destroy it,” Black Panther said in what could be perceived as an order, yet he knew he could not rule the force of nature known as Monica Rambeau. “It glows as they die. I think it may be some form of power source.”

She unleashed her photonic blasts with a yell before she turned to face him. “Are you sure?”

“We can never be sure.”

Monica nodded. “But it doesn’t hurt to try.”

Abruptly, the African-American heroine exploded into a mass of glittering whirling energies and shot high into the sky before beginning her descent as she’d done so on many occasions since arriving in Wakanda. This time, however, she aimed her body towards the expansive, shimmering Lake Nyanza and – with a tremendous splash – allowed those cold waters to wash across her. The murkiness of the depths caused no harm or distraction to the woman, it seemed like decades had passed since she’d been transformed into an entity that was closer to the unknown than to the humanity she surrounded herself with. Her eyes saw the energy trails the ship emitted: energy was her speciality.

Diving further, Photon allowed her body to slip between the alien metal until she was face to face with the heart of the machine. It was beautiful, beating as though it held a life of its own. For all the former harbourmaster knew, the ship was as alive as she was. Still, she couldn’t be distracted from her job. The heroes that moved around her had always thought Monica summoned forth the excessive power she possessed, but it wasn’t like that. She didn’t summon it from the core of her being, she held it there so that it wouldn’t harm those around her.

In that moment, she held nothing back and she felt glorious as golden energies burst from her body and illuminated the depths around her.

Auric waves lapped from Lake Nyanza and, however it turned out, Black Panther knew that one task had been completed at least.

Blue Marvel’s eyes narrowed as he looked toward the Aspirant on his right, its body seemed less shifting: almost like a congealed wound. Intuitively, he swapped from his concussive blasts to his transformative abilities. The creatures around him were more stable than before. Beneath the silver mask, a triumphant smile broadened across his creased face. He hovered into the air as all the Aspirants were ensnared in the energies he unleashed, Scarlet Witch and Giant Man were left in ridiculous positions as the Aspirants froze. With a wave of his arms, Blue Marvel transformed all their foes into particles of dust that flitted into the air.

He landed. “It is done.”

“And I thank you for your help,” proclaimed the King. His eyes looked towards the oncoming Wanda and Raz. “All of you.”

Waves once again lapped the shore as Monica burst into the sky carrying the heart of the Aspirants ship. Landing on the sand, the woman looked quizzically around at emptiness of the scene before looking to T’Challa.

“I thought we might have a use for this.”

“Come,” nodded the King.

Raz, leaning close to the witch, whispered. “Where are we going?”

Before she could answer, the keen-eared T’Challa interceded. “To do as all victors do, son. We celebrate.”

ANOMALOUS ACTIVITY

PART I

By Paige McMahon

CHANDILAR

Aleira Ronjan’n, the renowned Lady Sybil of her people and the Oracle of the Shi’ar Imperial Guard, walked the auric hallways of the Guard’s headquarters with a sense of urgency. Platinum waves of hair cascaded against the woman’s alabaster skin with every step, she had no need to look across her shoulder to search for anyone who would wish to pursue her – her mind was too strong to be deceived by any species that lived within the domed walls of Chandilar. Instead, she kept her eyes forward and focused on the visions that had plagued her. In another life, Oracle would have made her way directly to the quarters of Gladiator but, as she had learned through her extensive service with the Guardsmen, they would never sway from their loyalty to the Shi’ar. In her mind, at least, the oncoming destruction of the universe was more important that blind allegiance to the tumultuous Shi’ar political system.

To this end, Gladiator and her other allies were all far too unreliable to assist her.

As her mind alarmed her to the presence of another, Oracle rounded the corner to find herself face to face with the red-haired, pigtailed Astra. Of all the colleagues that could have been on guard duty, Oracle had never been happier to discover it was the girl who, despite years as a Guardsmen, was still treated as little more than a rookie. Astra furrowed her russet brows and folded her arms across her canary yellow uniform.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, distrust clear in her tone of voice. Astra was aware that the transportation deck had no need to be used this evening, the team patrolling areas of conflict had departed half an hour beforehand. “Turn around and go back before you do something you regret.”

Oracle didn’t appreciate the attempt at superiority in her voice, and her eyes indicated as much.

“Move, girl,” Aleira commanded, her voice echoing with authority as she furrowed her eyes as the woman ahead of her. “Move, or you will be moved.”

Astra held her ground, as she had always done, reliant on her enhanced imperviousness to see her through physical situations. It was this reliance on her abilities that had often left her on the bottom of the totem pole amongst the Guardsmen. Oracle had never viewed her as less worthy, but it was undeniable that they all saw her as weaker, less capable, and, in some circumstances, unworthy of the position she held. Through her telepathic connection with the world around her, Oracle knew that Astra often viewed herself in a similar fashion. In another time, the psychic would have attempted to comfort her or assuage her concerns, but she could sense now that Astra was suspicious and determined to prove herself.

The girl smirked, cracking her knuckles. “Is that so?”

Astra charged towards her, eager for a fight, and released the tautness with which she’d been restraining her molecules – passing through the psionic woman. Once behind her, Astra landed a kick squarely in her comrade’s back and forced Oracle forward. It was a little-known fact to the members of the Imperial Guard, or those beyond it, that Astra’s true form was not solid – it was phased – and she was forced to maintain her concentration to retain a solid shape. However, secrets and weaknesses had never stayed as such from the telepathic Oracle. Astra’s balled her fists as she continued with the physical assault, returning her density to that which with she could strike the telepath.

Oracle’s psionic abilities had often caused friend and foe alike to underestimate her, primarily as she relied on them in the field, but she was a Guardsman, and she was a highly trained combatant even without them. The woman caught Astra’s fist in her palm, utilising the momentum of the smaller woman’s charge against her as she flipped her into the air and released her, sending the pig-tailed Guardsman skidding towards the aircrafts with a crash. Slowly, she walked towards her.

“You don’t yet see, child, but when the world is saved from the ravages of burning reality, then you will thank me for this.”

Astra growled as she recovered. “Gladiator will have your hide for this!”

“Don’t make me do something I’ll regret, Astra. Walk away,” commanded the senior Guardsman.

Astra laughed as she charged again. “That’s what I’m trying to stop.”

“So be it.”

Oracle reached out, this time she used her psionic powers as she grabbed hold of the volatile young woman’s mind. It was chaotic, built upon trauma and disappointment, but Oracle searched for the core of her mind – the portion that controlled her powers. With a simple tug and a push, Astra lost the ability to control her tangibility. She croaked as her body slipped through the floor of the transportation deck, her hands scrambling erratically and hopelessly for something to grab and anchor her. In less than a few seconds, the pig-tailed Guardsman was gone – dropped into the bowels of open space. Oracle felt no remorse, she’d a job to do, but she did rest easy in the knowledge that Astra would survive in her tangible form.

Gracefully, she made her way towards the nearest aircraft.

Settling into the pilot’s seat, Aleira input her destination and followed the directions that had been provided in her visions. She still had time to fix this, and she couldn’t waste a moment of it.

THE FORGE

BIRNIN ZANA, WAKANDA

Whilst Adam, Monica, and Raz made themselves at home amongst the technological marvels that filled the engineering suite of Wakanda’s golden palace, the King and the Witch slipped away. Despite the pain that ached in his joints, growing more and more with every step he took, T’Challa never broke the regal composure that was expected of a king. The damage caused by the Asgardian Lorelei had been long-lasting, whilst others amongst their number from the battle against her had returned to their lives unaffected by the sorceress’s curse, he hadn’t been so fortunate. It was why he had summoned Wanda and, in truth, the challenge of fixing the broken former Avenger was why she’d answered despite sharing little personal connection or camaraderie with the King of Wakanda. What truly bound the one-time Avengers was their determination to prove themselves as stronger than their disabilities: T’Challa’s recurring leg paralysis and Wanda’s questionable mental health.

T’Challa took a seat, the muscles of his legs creaking as he caused the mechanical Black Panther suit to disperse into his nanotech watch and expose him rugged features. A light beard grazed his jawline, and he offered a smile as Wanda took a position on her knees, preparing to do as she’d done some many times over the last several months. It was through her intricate weaving of reality that T’Challa had been able to reclaim his position as the Black Panther, but not without creating further animosity with Princess Shuri, and return to a semblance of the man he’d been, the man he’d considered lost as he’d limped away from the battle in Asgard, disgraced. It was a debt the King knew he’d never be able to repay and, from that debt, a friendship had blossomed.

“How comes the studies?” he asked her.

Wanda shook her head. “Closest I can gather is that it’s some form of ancient Seiðr and the texts don’t cover it particularly well. The easiest thing to do would be to have Lorelei reverse her curse but I doubt that’s an option, not with Asgard holding her prisoner.”

Returning to silence, Wanda began. Much as she’d done on the battlefield, although with more focus and notably less makeshift, she manipulated the chaos energies of the universe to manipulate reality. An oddity even amongst her peers, the so-called Scarlet Witch was both a mutant and a sorceress, born with the former and extensively trained in the latter. Her mutant ability was the generation of energy, she’d dubbed them hex bolts to coincide with her moniker from as early as her Brotherhood days, but even these had grown stronger with her descent into the occult. Bone and sinew were no different than pen and paper to the woman.

T’Challa was constantly in awe every time he saw her, and that was no easy feat for a monarch with an entire kingdom under his control. There were moments, as he looked into the raw energy that exploded in her eyes, that he was thankful she’d joined the side of the angels. Wanda was undoubtedly one of the strongest people on the planet, containing the gift of reality within her lithe frame, and like so many others, he worried that should she ever lose control of herself or her powers, she would be unstoppable.

“I don’t suppose Thor would be willing to help,” she asked.

T’Challa shook his head. “After the last incident with Lorelei, Asgard is reluctant to give her any semblance of freedom. I believe we’re on our own.”

“Well, then I guess I keep reading,” replied Wanda as she finished up with a flourish, easing the monarch’s pain.

T’Challa stood, stretching out his temporarily repaired limbs, as he looked upon her. “We should return.”

Wanda nodded and followed him as they moved into the gathering once more.

“This is so amazing.”

Raz was like an excitable child as he entered the laboratories of the Golden City. If vibranium was the heart-blood of Wakanda, the laboratories of the Crown Princess Shuri were the heart that forged it into usable materials for the defence of Wakanda. Machinery continued to whir as devices unknown to them where brought into life amidst a sea of holographic schematics. Whilst Raz had bounded into the room in his fervour, the other allies of T’Challa were much more controlled. Each was a veteran of their trade. Unfortunately, that meant they had seen enough to become accustomed to the marvels of this world. Although, they would secretly admit, that Raz’s excitement almost made them erstwhile for the experience they were missing. The Indian-American hero reached out towards a prototype in the shape of a panther’s claw.

“Don’t touch that,” commanded the Wakandan princess upon entering, although her eyes were focused on T’Challa. Raz meant nothing to her. “Brother.”

Shuri, who was both cousin and step-sister to T’Challa via Queen Mother Ramonda, made her entrance with an earned authority. It was unusual for her to find what had become her domain filled with strangers, even the warriors of Wakanda approached the uneven-tempered princess with a sense of caution. Shuri had borne the mantle of Black Panther during T’Challa’s injured period but she had reluctantly relented to return it, if he could beat her in battle. The fact that he stood in the mantle and she did not was a testament to the outcome and how her abilities, although strong and bloodthirsty, had been no match for his cool-headedness. She managed to walk through the group without making eye-contact with any of them, instead she saw only T’Challa. Her family and her chief rival.

“What is this meaning of this?”

T’Challa, aware of her resentments but unwilling to grace them with his attention, spoke to her as he would any of his chief scientists. His voice echoed a cold detachment. “This is a remnant of the ship that crash landed in the Nyanza. It seemed to be producing the creatures we fought on the shore until it was damaged. We need to ascertain how, what they were and if there is any chance it could remain dangerous.”

“Surely you should have some confidence in the job you and your associates have done, mighty king,” she replied without so much as looking at the metallic heart of the ship. Her tone was taunting, disinterested and clearly intended as an insult.

T’Challa, tensing his shoulders and adjusting his posture to his full height, stared down upon her. “Remember to whom you speak, sister. This is no time for childishness and kinship is no protection from retribution in these matters. I have come to you as one of our greatest minds, doing the courtesy of acknowledging you as an asset, but if you can’t see the importance of what I’m asking you, then you do nothing but further prove that you were unworthy of the heart-shaped herb to begin with.”

She scoffed, indignant.

“Is this always so tense?” Raz whispered to Wanda at his side.

She nodded. “They’re going through some things. It’s a long story.”

T’Challa continued, undeterred by the muttering of his cohorts. “I look forward to seeing what you discover, sister.” With a curt nod, the king moved past her and urged all the other heroes to follow his lead.

THE THRONE ROOM

BIRNIN ZANA, WAKANDA

“My king,” said the Dora Milaje warrior as she entered, her steps scattered as she dragged an alabaster-skinned woman in shackles behind her. She bowed, never loosening her grip of her weapon or the chain before she addressed him further. “This woman was found in the centre of the Golden City, she handed herself over for arrest and requested an audience with you. She has spoken with General Okoye, but she was deemed worthy to appear before you.”

The Dora Milaje lifted herself from her bow and waited for her ruler to take his seat upon the throne and nod before she moved to the side of the room, hands clasped firmly around her spear. Still unsure of their etiquette, Adam, Monica, Raz and Wanda moved from his line of sight and stood along the other side of the room, their eyes resting on the woman that too many of them recognised not to feel on edge – particularly giving the extra-terrestrial assault that Wakanda had faced only several hours before. A simple look toward T’Challa confirmed that he too found the timing to be a reason for concern.

“You desired an audience with me,” he said firmly. “Well, feel free to speak. Although, I will admit to being curious why the Shi’ar would send an envoy to Wakanda, especially after what we faced this morning.”

Oracle cleared her throat and stepped forward. “I have not been sent on behalf of the Shi’ar. If they discovered, I’d come then they might see reason to call me treasonous. My name is Oracle and I have the gift of witnessing and deciphering the future. It is graver than I have ever see before because, for the first time in my life, I have seen the abyss that lies in our near future. I have come to offer warning and to seek assistance in preventing such a future from coming to pass.”

“You have come to Earth for help in protecting the universe,” he replied. “Isn’t that the role that you’re tasked with as an Imperial Guardsman? Am I to believe that you and your brethren are unable to meet the task ahead?”

“You are to believe that in the visions I’ve seen, it was not the Imperial Guardsmen that I saw at my side,” she said. “I have seen the faces of those who are to face the end of times and I know that it is through our failure that we are unable to stop it. It is our responsibility to make the right choices and to follow the path as I can lead you.”

“You say in your visions that we have failed, then that is even more reason for someone else to take the task.” T’Challa was trying to understand her logic.

“No,” Oracle continued. “Our inaction will solve nothing. We will be drawn into this war regardless of what we desire, and it begins on this planet. The Aspirants that attacked your home today where nothing more than a test, a distraction, from the truth behind the annihilation that’s to come. It begins in Wakanda and so, Wakanda must accept the role it is to play.” She bowed demurely. “King T’Challa, I mean only to help.”

Unable to be sure that the lavender-haired seer could be trusted, T’Challa exhaled heavily. He tried not to make eye contact with the allies who still flanked him: Adam, Monica, Wanda and Raz. Still, the importance of information was never lost on him.

“Rise, Oracle of the Imperial Guard, I will hear all you have to say.”

Oracle stood.

Next time in the Ultimates: If the Aspirants were only the beginning, then what is to come next?