Marciano has indeed made enemies of all the wrong folks. And who less inclined to skip out on a bout of good old fashioned murder and technology theft than Excelsior, when they've been given an express invite?

Once more the battered door is set swinging on tired hinges, but this time no sudden rush of sunlight threatens to disturb the den's cultivated dingy gloom. Indeed, the outside's horrid fresh hair and pretty colors are entirely blocked out by the sheer bulk of the creature trying to fit inside, a hulking reptilian creature dressed all in dull green and with the stature of a man, albeit a giant one, sloping cro-magnon brow jutting out in ugly contrast to a flat face, the nose no more than two slits in the skull, tusks sprouting from either side of it's too-wide jaw.

Finally this hideous paragon of function over aesthetics in genetic engineering manages to squeeze it's surplus of muscle and fat through the doorway, the floorboards bending slightly with each mammoth footsteps as Markus the hydratroll makes his it's way over to the table at which Clarissa and her fellow schemer's scheme, it's head bent at an awkward angle to keep from bumping the ceiling.

And from it's looming shadow pops Daedalus, decked out in the smallest suit of body armor he could find and wearing too an energetic smile of razor teeth, giving Clarissa a wave as he clamber into one of the chairs. "Heya! Got the boss's permission to join this party and help crash a party, long as I get something cool outta all this violence and fun stuff."