Hey, if he didn't put a giant laser cannon in his front yard, there wouldn't be a problem. How was I to know those Praetorians were guarding the safety interlocks keeping his door locked? I was just there with some like minded individuals to get some payback for blowing me up all those times at level 20. Not my fault they started something back then that they didn't have the bolts to finish. When the door opened, I just poked my head in to see if there was anyone home. I thought I might have a word with whoever set their killer robots out front to pick off anyone who flew by. Then the door shut behind me and I was locked in along with five of my best friends. At that point I figured, "To hell with it, might as well go in." Then there's the chests laying around. Really, who leaves their valuables sitting on the edge of some cliff, or tucked into some hole in the wall? I was doing him a service by collecting his treasures and bringing them to the Templar, who might take better care of the guns and armor Atheon so carelessly left scattered about. Then all these vex guys showed up, and minotaurs, and harpies, and oracles. And the Templar is just not interested in talking about anything but what to do with our bodies, so what-the-hell, let's ice this guy too and give Atheon a stern talking to about the company he keeps when we see him. So us six take him out, and there's more stuff laying about, so we pick that up too and add it to the little pile. Then there's his guard dogs, the gorgons. We see one guy go over the hill and suddenly we all get annihilated, so we're like "No way!" and sneak around them, since they're basically unkillable. More stuff laying around. And finally we get to Atheon's living room. More vex guys, those praetorians from before, special hydras and time gates. We six are tired and pissed and ready to give the boss a real talking to about his little friends, and these guys want to kill us (big surprise) so we blast 'em. Finally Atheon shows up and when we try to sit him down and discuss things like modern gentlemen, such as why its impolite to try and annihilate passers by, or hold them against their will, or employ robots with the intention of killing would-be good samaritans, he sets more robots on us and strikes a damn pose before giving us the cold shoulder. "Fu¢k this guy," We say in unison, "he's going down." So we do him just like we did all his goons, and keep his stuff for the trouble. And you have the audacity to call us criminals? I say to you, good day sir!