Daredevil led the Doctor to a darkened section of the dressing room. The dim lighting was focused on a large silver box with a couple buttons on it. Daredevil pressed one and politely asked, "Oracle?"
The lid slid back and Daredevil released the button. After a large cloud of white gas passed, a figure could be seen. It was aged, there could be no mistaking that, but not painfully so. It was muscular, very muscular. The top o��f the head was bald, but long, stringy blond hair grew from the sides of its head. A thick Fu Manuchu mustache grew on its upper lip. The eyes, when they opened, were clear blue and energetic. He looked somewhat familiar to the Doctor. When he spoke, the mystery was cleared. "Someone need help, Oracle-a-manics?" its voice boomed. The Doctor groaned quietly. Still, he thought, it wouldn't be the first time he would be taking advice from a 'dead' man.
"The Doctor here has to fight the Destroyer," Daredevil reported. The Oracle looked over the Doctor.
"Whoa. You remember the three Demandments kid?" the Oracle asked.
After cooling off from being called 'kid', the Doctor was ashamed to note he did remember them. "Uh, yeah. Do the exercises, take the vitamins, and say your prayers."
"Right kid." Arggh, he said it again! "For you, Oracleamanic, I offer this advice."
"Yes?"
"Concentrate on the prayers��, man."
"Thanks."
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