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Iolaus drove the tip of his sword into the soft ground and rested his weight on the crossbar. His mind carefully blank, he stared at the destruction left by the now-dead ghidra. Men, women and children--an extended family by the looks of things, though none lived to tell them who was who.

He sighed and swiped at the gore covering his chest. They'd killed the monster, but they'd arrived too late to save anyone. Too damn late. And now dusk was deepening into night.

Hercules emerged grim faced from a shed across the way, carrying two picks. He tossed one in Iolaus' general direction. Time to bury the dead, before darkness swallowed them all.