Hercules felt like he had already died and was unconscious for most of the journey to the underworld. He already had several cuts and bruises from the storm and from Hades’ staff. He was lying down now staring up at the rock ceiling of Hades’ underworld, being carried on a black stretcher of sorts by four large, armored warriors. In front of them was Hades, who strutted forward gallantly and victoriously in his dark robes. “Hercules!” exclaimed Hades, after he noticed a painful noise come from behind him. “Come and behold what I have prepared for you!” “I am not dead?” asked Hercules. “Not yet,” said Hades. Hercules seemed to begin to remember everything that had happened up to this point. Everything seemed to make sense. What didn’t make sense was why Hades was keeping Hercules alive? And why was he bringing him to his underworld? Was he to place him in the underworld forever, or was he going to simply kill him here in front of his servants? Hercules did not know, but thought about these things occupied his mind for the next several minutes.
