NOTE: The events in HERALDS: ORIGINS take place after the current LADY LIBERATORS series.

“Show me then, girl. Stir the waters and reveal to me what is and what must be…”

The voice drifted from the shadows, little more than a whisper. A young woman lay naked upon the stone floor of the scrying chamber, trailing one lazy hand in the curiously opaque waters of a circular pool. She was exquisite this one, a timeless beauty, her long hair a tide of honey-gold threads and curls, her skin as soft and pale as milk. When the voice spoke to her she raised her head and, through eyes of shining, ocean blue, she stared warily into the gloom that gathered beyond the ring of marble pillars that enclosed her. She was a player on the stage of her own private amphitheatre, but today she performed to an audience of one.

“Many travel here, to the mountain at the edge of the known world, and to the oracle of Delphi,” the girl murmured. “But so very few appreciate the portents they receive. I can regale you with hidden significances of past, present and future, but the interpretation of those episodes is yours alone to determine. Do you understand?”

In the shadows, the watcher moved. Breathed.

“Show me,” the voice demanded.

The girl, Delphi, smiled shyly and then began the languid stir of her fingers once more. The water in the pool was thick and discolored, and exuded an odd fragrance that was in one moment reminiscent of flowers but in another the scent of fresh blood. The water began to shimmer. Delphi leaned in close. An image formed, but it was no reflection.

“Tell me what you see,” the voice said, keenly, “so that I may see it too!”

“Your urgency has no merit here. This place exists beyond the usual laws of time and space, as you of all people should-”

“Now, child!”

Delphi’s eyes flickered, becoming opal white now, and she pressed her unclothed flesh against the cold of the ancient flagstones beneath, writhing as the rapture of prophecy came upon her.

“As you wish,” she breathed. “Let the first of the five you seek be revealed…”

THIS ONE IS THE FULCRUM…

By Meriades Rai

In her charcoal-black Armani suit, ochre silk blouse, sheer nylons and black patent heels, Janet Van Dyne was every inch the professional businesswoman; unfortunately, being only six inches tall at the present time meant that this turn of phrase was somewhat redundant. The beautiful, gossamer wings emerging from her back and sustaining her in mid-air like a well-dressed Tinkerbell were also unusual, and when all was said and done this wasn’t a look that would meet approval in corporate boardrooms across the globe. Then again, one wasn’t often called upon to deal with furious subterranean creatures forged from molten rock storming through one’s place of work, so in such circumstances a lack of etiquette could surely be forgiven…

“Well, goodness,” Janet snapped, waving a miniature finger in the direction of the beast that was in turn staring up at her as she hovered. “What in the world do you think you’re doing? You can’t just come burrowing up through the Piazza della Scala and start scaring everyone half to death. This is Milan. There are rules about that kind of thing. Probably.”

The magma creature, a squat, seething mass of pinkish-red hot rock in humanoid form, inclined its approximation of a head and blinked its eyes. Then its mouth dropped open with a gasp of steam and it shrieked, sending a gust of liquid flame high into the air.

Janet wheeled instinctively, her wings carrying her away from danger with delicate swiftness. She did, however, lose a tiny shoe, and clucked with irritation as the black heel tumbled away, immediately reverting to its normal size upon losing contact with her foot. She extended a leg and wiggled her stockinged toes in the magma creature’s face.

“See?” she said. “Undignified. That’s you Lava Men all over. I’m thinking Lava Women don’t conduct themselves so irresponsibly. Not that I’ve ever seen a Lava Woman invade the surface world, but-”

Janet paused, her rosebud lips pursed thoughtfully. Then she raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

“Unless you don’t have Lava Women,” she mused. “And that’s why you’re always so insufferably cranky…”

The magma beast roared, spitting fire and volcanic gasses, and on either flank two of its nigh-identical companions did the same. Janet evaded this new attack, sweeping away at high speed but then banking and hurtling back towards her foes with slingshot momentum, her expression stern. She was petite, even when she wasn’t shrunk down to such diminutive size, and she possessed pretty, elfin features dominated by sultry brown eyes and a heartbreaker smile, but when she had a scowl about her she was truly intimidating.

There were five Lava Men in the Piazza altogether, and a not insignificant crater at the heart of the square where, minutes previously, tourists and locals alike had been strolling across a courtyard of resplendent flagstones without a care in the world. Then the ground had shook, and cracked, and erupted with torrents of glowing, orange, liquid rock, followed by the Lava Men clambering out into the air of the Upper World. The Italian authorities were going to have kittens, Janet suspected. The best she could do was wrap this whole affair up quickly, and hope that she could recover her lost footwear before some clodhopping Lava Lout trod on it and melted it away.

Oh, and stay alive of course. That would also be nice.

Janet extended both hands and channeled twin pulses of bioelectrical energy through her fingers, striking down the two nearest Lava Men before they could even react. Once upon a time Janet Van Dyne had been more commonly known as the super-powered heroine The Wasp, and these energy bursts were her wasp’s sting. As small as she was, and as beguilingly slight as these stings might appear to the naked eye, they packed an incredible, concussive punch, as the Lava Men could now confirm. The Wasp’s blasts had, in previous conflicts, proved powerful to stun and incapacitate all manner of significant adversaries – she’d even temporarily subdued the Hulk with a well-aimed discharge to the inner air – and the Lava Men, as gruesome and as potentially dangerous as they were, were no Hulks. Two pinpoint, concentrated bursts to the chest region proved devastating; with a dull whoomph of splintering rock and spurting magma, both beasts detonated comprehensively upon impact.

Janet allowed herself a brief smile of delight. And people said a girl could lose her touch after so long out of the game…

Another Lava Man roared and snatched at the miniature human female flitting about its head, but it was far too slow – or, rather, The Wasp was too quick and nimble to ever be swatted in such a crude fashion. This trespasser was dispatched in the same fashion as its two fellows as Janet executed a faultless arc dive and swept up beneath the beast’s last, desperate grab, arching her spine and thrusting out her hands to unleash another sting blast. This pulse speared the Lava Man through the dead center of its glowing torso with a ray of crackling light, resulting in clouds of hot, fractured rocks and sparking ash – and an urgent rush of magma that caught The Wasp by surprise.

Angling her flight to avoid this backwash, the heroine lost her bearings momentarily – and in that moment one of the remaining two Lava Men almost grabbed her with a fiery hand. Janet yelped and spun, forced to execute a graceful pirouette, tucking in her wings and her legs – and losing her other shoe, damn it! – before shooting clear, a half second before the intense heat of her enemy’s molten touch liquefied her in mid-flight.

The offending Lava Man snarled in frustration as The Wasp circled, anxiously dabbing the palms of her hands at her hair. She was a mahogany brunette, cut in a 1920s-era flapper’s bob with the cutest wedge fringe. She’d had it styled just yesterday at an exclusive salon at Via Manzone, and it had cost an absolute fortune. If this walking lump of coal had singed her, then-

There was a squelch and a hiss. Janet looked and saw the two Lava Men stomping her shoes into melted black pancakes in a way that could only be described as gratuitous. Her eyes narrowed to slits and her lips puckered in a small ‘o’ of horror.

“You… swines!” she spluttered. “Right. Right! Oh, that’s just asking for it.”

The Wasp wheeled through two bursts of flame and clapped her hands together, unleashing a double sting blast that ruptured the nearest Lava Man in twain and scattered its smoldering remains in all directions. Which was, she assured herself, entirely justified. Lava Men didn’t die when they were destroyed – they were curious creatures that could reconstitute themselves over time – but that wasn’t to say utter physical ruination didn’t hurt or was any the less deserved.

“You there!” Janet snapped at the last of the creatures. “Yes, you. Don’t you try and slink away when I’m talking to you.”

The magma beast glanced up from where it was loitering on the edge of the crater it and its friends had produced, its lumpen expression strangely guilty. The Wasp hovered above him, hands on hips, her wings fluttering crossly.

“I have no idea whether this was some preliminary incursion to another one of your ill-conceived, fully-fledged invasions of the surface world, or whether it’s a solitary effort at wreaking havoc, or whether you’ve just been at the magma juice and you’re out on the equivalent of some high-spirited Lava Man jolly, but you do not go around destroying European fashion capitals on my watch and expect to get away with it, do you understand? Not to mention a pair of eight hundred dollar shoes!”

The Lava Man roared, half-heartedly, and exhaled a pitiful curl of volcanic smoke. Janet sniffed.

“Yes, I should think so,” she murmured. “Now go. Scram! Get back as far underground as where you came from, and then just keep going, before I get really upset and turn you into asphalt.”

The Lava Man looked confused. It started to clamber over the raised rim of the crater, leaving behind a trail of heat haze, pieces of its friends and copious amounts of public property damage, and for a moment Janet truly believed that would be that. Then, however, the beast checked itself and turned once more, opening its jaw wide and disgorging a slew of liquid fire like a mythical dragon. The Wasp recoiled with a heartbeat to spare, although again she felt a rush of intense heat at her neck and ears. She wasn’t so fortunate when a fist of smoking stone clubbed her in mid-flight and sent her slamming to the ground, whereupon she tumbled and skittered almost the entire length of the courtyard.

It was a devastating blow. But Janet Van Dyne was no rookie, and she’d taken her fair share of cracks throughout her life. In her shrunken form, especially, she was one tough nut. She could bruise, and she could hurt, but she wouldn’t be broken. She was just too damn mulish if nothing else.

The Lava Man sludged forward, its crusted hide smoking and radiant, its intent murderous. Some ten feet ahead, The Wasp rose into the air once more with wings spread wide and jaw stubbornly clenched. Disheveled, disgruntled, but not defeated.

“I gave you the opportunity to haul ash,” she muttered, her eyes dark. “No second chances.”

The Lava Man charged, but The Wasp made no attempt to fly clear. Instead she extended one hand and released a powerful, pulsating sting, fueled by barely contained fury and a steely will. The Lava Man’s lump of a head exploded backwards and its shimmering torso cracked and fell apart in two equal slabs, sliding away from one another on rivers of liquid rock, its momentum halted utterly by the force of its enemy’s blast. The air was temporarily clouded with burning spit and cinders, but The Wasp didn’t flinch.

Throughout her life people had judged her by her size and estimated her worth accordingly. As was so often the case, people were damned wrong.

After a minute or two, when the smoke of the battle had cleared, Janet sighed and withdrew to the edge of the ruined Piazza, whereupon she grew to her full size in the blink of an eye and gingerly took a seat upon an ornamental bench. She looked down at her jacket and skirt and saw that they were ragged and scorched. She extended one leg and then the other and stared at each of her small, stockinged feet in turn, noting that the expensive nylon was liberally shredded. Her expression was glum.

Those shoes had been Louboutin for goodness’ sake, and had cost even more than her hair. And today had been such an important day…

For the past year Janet Van Dyne’s life had taken a different path to anything that had come before. A decade ago she’d met and fallen in love with the scientific adventurer Henry Pym and together – she as The Wasp and Hank as Ant-Man – they’d helped formed the superhero group The Avengers. She and Hank had married but then later divorced. They’d tried to rekindle their relationship more than once but any affection they’d once shared was now long buried in the past. As The Wasp, Janet had enjoyed membership of numerous incarnations of the Avengers roster – even leading the group – but eventually had decided on another role. As part of Warren Worthington III’s X-Corporation initiative she’d played an important part in the successful strengthening of relations between regular human beings and those with paranormal powers and abilities, most notably mutants. And she’d enjoyed it, she truly had.

But today… today was the day she’d been planning to quit.

The odd public misstep – and glaring media calamity – aside, X-Corporation was thriving. Janet was cherished within the organization, as valued now as when she’d started, but the truth had been evident for a while – she just wasn’t needed. And, on top of that, she missed the excitement of her other life. It had been lovely to reconnect with Janet Van Dyne but she missed being The Wasp, a sentiment that had become impossible to ignore since her recent adventure with the Lady Liberators.*

* see Marvel Omega’s new Lady Liberators mini series for the full story!

Janet wiggled her toes again and smiled ruefully. Well, obviously, she didn’t miss losing her shoes and ending up looking like a scarecrow, but that’s what happened when you wore a suit and heels instead of a costume. The thrill of the fight, however, and briefly being able to cut loose on the odd Lava Man or three… well, she was surprised she’d stayed out of the game for so long. It had been fun. And today had merely proved that she wanted more.

Janet smiled sadly and stared off into the distance, past the gaggle of gawping faces that were now beginning to crowd back into the Piazza after having been scared off earlier. A half-mile or so west of here the Milan Embassy for X-Corp awaited, along with Warren, flown in from New York especially at Janet’s request. Poor Warren, already concerned by the recent disappearance of Dani Moonstar and now unaware of the bombshell one of his most trusted associates was about to drop in his lap. But, sometimes, that was just the way things worked out.

“Well, old girl,” Janet said to herself, “it’s not going to be pleasant. But if your mind wasn’t completely made up before this morning, it certainly is now. Let’s get this done, and then get started on the next chapter.

“Because there’s nothing more exciting than a brand new beginning, now is there…?”

The image in Delphi’s pool began to fragment. The naked girl sighed softly, almost a moan of denial, and she shivered as she withdrew her hand. The pearly white of her eyes darkened once more to blue, and the light from the poolside candles that cast a meager glow about the circular heart of the scrying chamber – but not beyond the ring of marble pillars – glimmered fiercely in her golden hair.

“The first,” she said, her words a little slurred. “Small in stature yet bold in heart. The unexpected leader. Easy to underestimate, dangerous to overlook. This one is the fulcrum, about whom the others will orbit.”

The watcher in the shadows shifted.

“Truly?” the voice enquired. “As relentless an irritant as her namesake, so her involvement in this matter is no surprise, but a leader…? Not in my estimation. I’ll be watching her with interest as events unfold, for judgment is upon her now, but without her habitual allies at her side – no God of Thunder, no Man of Iron, no wielder of shield or bow – how can she plausibly fare well?”

Delphi frowned. “You sound like you want her to fail,” she said, curiously. “Her and her new allies alike. Surely your success in what’s to come will hinge upon theiraccomplishments? They’ll be your emissaries, after all.”

In the shadows, the watcher smiled.

“A tangled web, girl,” the voice breathed. “O, the tangled web. But no more delay. Stir the waters, child. And reveal the second of those who will deliver unto me the greatest power in all existence.

“Reveal to me the second of my five Heralds…”

NEXT: A new Black Panther emerges to claim the mantle of this sacred legacy – but there are those who are never happy to accept the spirit of change! Don’t miss HERALDS ORIGINS #2: THE BLACK PANTHER. “This One Is The Trigger…”