Hercules and his nephew, Iolaus, had defeated the hydra. A horrible beast with nine heads, the hydra was deadly venomous, and it was nearly impossible to kill. Hercules had learned this the hard way when he decapitated the beast, only for two more heads to grow from the remnant of it's neck. The next time Hercules had cut off a head, Iolaus had burned the stump. They had waited with baited breath for the hydra's reaction (while dodging the other nine heads) and had almost cheered when no heads emerged. Quickly, Hercules had removed all of the hydra's heads from it's necks, and Iolaus had followed behind him, burning the stumps to prevent new heads from regenerating. But they hadn't thought about why the hydra was so desperate to prevent them from entering the cave. As Hercules and Iolaus walked away, the hatchling rose on shaky legs, still not quite steady, and attacked. Fangs filled with deadly poison sank into Iolaus's calf, and as the baby hydra drew away blood dripped from it's mouth. Hydra venom wasn't just lethal. It was excruciating. Anyone unfortunate enough to be bitten by one? Their screams would echo for however long it took to kill. Hercules knew this, and he also knew that hydra venom had no antidote. Tears streamed down Hercules's face as he heard Iolaus start to scream. Grief for his nephew mingled with and turned to rage. With one sharp motion, Hercules ripped the hatchling's head off and threw it to the ground. Iolaus's tortured screams echoed off the cave walls as the hatchling's body toppled over. Two more heads sprouted from it's neck, but Hercules' eyes were blinded with tears. He couldn't see them. He turned towards Iolaus, preparing himself for the heartrending task of returning his body for burial. Behind him, the baby hydra struggled to it's feet.