Remy opened the door when he saw the car pull up in the driveway, led by Singer floating effortlessly in the air in front of it. Hank had called a few minutes before and told Remy that they had touched down in New Orleans and rented a car. True to his word, Remy had sent Singer to meet them, and they had just arrived.
Hank, Jean and Logan got out of the car as Singer landed near the car and led the way to the safehouse.
"T'anks for comin' guys." Remy said. "Welcome to de safehouse of de Unified Guilds. Everyone's upstairs. You've met Singer. I'll introduce you to de others when we get upstairs. Oh and Singer, t'anks for goin' an' meetin' dem. I appreciate it."
Singer nodded silently, her eyes invisible behind her dark glasses. Jean absently wondered, as they followed Remy upstairs, why the beautiful female assassin didn't take the glasses off.
Remy led the way into the room where the injured Guild members were resting. Gris was nowhere to be found Remy noticed, and raised a questioning look at Fifolet, who shrugged.
"He left 'bout five minutes ago, while you were down waitin' for dem. An' he didn' say where he was goin'."
Remy sighed. "Maybe if he stays out of everyone's hair, dis won' be dat hard." He said. He turned to his X-Men friends and introduced them to Tante Mattie and the remaining assassins. "Hank, Jean, Logan, I'd like you to meet Tante Mattie, Fifolet an' Questa. I t'ink you know de others. Everyone, dis is Dr. Hank McCoy, Jean Grey an' Logan."
Tante Mattie smiled at the three X-Men. "Welcome to New Orleans." She said in her soft voice. She addressed Hank without even a raised eyebrow at his appearance. "Dey are all more or less stable, mais I can' heal dem de way a real doctor can…"
Hank nodded. "That's fine, I'm sure you've done a wonderful job. Who has the most extensive injuries?"
Theoren, who was sitting up in bed in spite of the pain he was in, grinned at Hank. "Hey Doc. Fancy meetin' you here…"
"Good afternoon, Theoren. How are you feeling?" Hank replied.
"Only reason I'm in dis bed is 'cause Fifolet told Tante Mattie dat I was hurt. I'm fine." Theoren replied. "But de others aren'."
"To answer your question, Dr. McCoy, I t'ink Emil an' Claude have de most extensive injuries at dis point." Tante Mattie said. "De others have more less life-threatening injuries."
"Thank you." Hank replied and went over to inspect Emil's and Claude's wounds. Claude wasn't as bad off as Emil was, but Gris had done a very good job of slashing them with his knife.
Emil opened his blue eyes drearily when he felt Hank's furry, clawed hands working on his still-bleeding stomach. "Hi Dr. McCoy…" he whispered, wincing at the pain he felt.
"Shhh Emil. Try to keep your breathing slow and as light as possible, okay? That will help me to get the bleeding to stop." Hank instructed him.
Emil nodded and groaned softly. It hurt so much the pain was almost unbearable. But he did exactly as Hank asked.
Jean examined Bella Donna, Genard, Zoe and Mercy, while Tante Mattie and Remy spoke to Theoren. Logan glared suspiciously at the three assassins, until Remy noticed and said something.
"Logan, relax. Guys, do you have any idea where Gris might have gone off to?"
"We have a few hangouts, oui. You want us to go check up on him?" Questa asked.
Remy nodded. "If it's not too much trouble. I know you're not his favorite people anymore, kinda like de rest of us, but you are de closest t'ing to fam'ly he has. He might be able to use de comp'ny if you know what I mean…"
"We're on it." Fifolet said. "C'mon guys."
When the three assassins left the room, Remy glanced at Logan. "Dere's no need to be suspicious, Logan."
"I don't trust 'em." Logan snarled quietly.
"De assassins? Dey're not de bad guys in dis mess, mon ami. Well, de ones you just glared at aren'. Gris is." Remy explained.
"Whatever." Logan commented. "They better just watch what they say and do…"
Remy went over and checked up on the progress Hank was making with Emil. When he stood by the bed, Emil reached up, wincing in pain, and grabbed the sleeve of Remy's shirt. "Gris can' be stopped, Rem."
"Don' give up on 'im, Red." Remy said quietly. "An' jus' relax, okay? Let Hank do his job, an' you'll be back on your feet in no time. So will everyone else."
"'Kay." Emil replied. He closed his eyes against the pain and Remy felt Emil's hand tighten on his shirt.
"Hey Hank? Go easy on 'im, he's been t'rough a lot. Hell, dey all have."
Hank smiled at his friend. "Don't worry, my esteemed Cajun friend. I will do my best for all of them."
"He's in de coffee shop." Questa told Singer and Fifolet. They had waited for their friend outside the shop in the shadows. Questa had altered his appearance before going into the shop so Gris wouldn't recognize him. He didn't want Gris to know too soon that he had been followed.
"How're we gon' do dis? I mean he's pissed off at everyone right now, us included. He's not gon' be de happiest person in de world to see us." Fifolet wondered.
"He has been takin' his hatred for de unification too far." Singer commented. "But Remy is right. We're de closest t'ing to a fam'ly he has, even if we don' agree wit' him anymore."
"True. I guess de only t'ing we can do is go in dere an' hope for de best." Fifolet conceded. "Let's jus' hope he ain' carryin' a gun..."
Questa chuckled. "I t'ink I'm de only one who carries one of dose on a regular basis."
The coffee shop was a dingy, rundown place, which is probably why no one cared that Gris was there. No one paid any attention to him, just as no one paid any attention with the other three assassins walked in. If any of the shop's other patrons recognized the four killers, they didn't say a word, not wanting to risk getting in trouble with the legendary Assassins Guild.
Gris-Gris was sitting at a table in a corner of the shop. This gave him a perfect view of the entrance, so he could see the people coming and going. He sighed inwardly when he saw Fifolet, Questa and Singer walk in, but he motioned for them to join him anyway.
"Willingly askin' us to join you. I'm impressed." Questa commented as he and the others took their seats around the table.
Gris glowered at the three of them. "You would have anyway." He said in a slightly stony voice as a waitress in a pink and white uniform arrived to take their orders. He waited patiently as his friends all ordered coffee, and continued when the waitress left. "So why'd you follow me?"
The others looked at each other quickly. They hadn't decided just what to tell Gris. They knew how angry he could get when the thieves were mentioned.
"Do you want an honest answer, mon ami?" Fifolet asked cryptically with a raised eyebrow.
Gris chuckled. "Lemme guess. LeBeau."
"Well…" Singer replied. "He had two reasons an' we couldn' disagree wit' either one of dem."
"What were dey?" Gris wanted to know.
They waited as the waitress served their coffee before Gris' question was answered. "In de first place, he t'ought you could use some comp'ny, an' we're de only real fam'ly you have." Questa explained. "An' in de second place, he wanted to get us away from dis friend of his who came wit' de doctor."
"Dis friend…who is he?"
Fifolet shrugged. "His name's Logan. Remy didn' give a last name. Short guy, burly. I hate to say it, but I t'ink he could take us. Dere's jus' somet'ing 'bout him dat gives me dat impression."
"Logan, huh? Prob'ly a mutant. LeBeau has a lot of mutant friends." Gris commented. "Interestin'…"
"Don' look like one, neither does de woman who came wit' dem. Hell, neither does Remy. But de doctor is, so you're prob'ly right." Questa said. "An' I t'ink if de doctor wanted to, he could take us too."
"Nobody can take any of us. We're assassins, 'member? We're de ones who do de takin'. I don' like dis at all." Gris snapped. "LeBeau jus' better keep his friends outta Guild business. An' as for dis Logan person, he'd be smart not to cross me. Or any of us. I admit to not bein' too happy wit' de three of you right now, but dat don' mean we ain' still a team. No mutant friend of LeBeau's is gon' get in de way. An' if he tries, den we'll jus' have to show him de meanin' of de word assassin."
"Is that a threat, bub?"