Things were quiet and more or less peaceful in the Guild safehouse for the next four days. In fact, it was too quiet and too peaceful. Remy had an uneasy feeling that something was going to happen. Something bad. And he wasn't wrong either.
When Remy woke up on the fifth morning after he and the thieves had returned to New Orleans, he went down to the kitchen thinking that something was wrong. It wasn't early in the morning, and yet the safehouse was almost eerily quiet. He felt the same way he had felt when he had come back to stop the assassins from killing the rest of the thieves.
Uneasily, Remy got himself some breakfast and ate it, wondering where everyone was. Finally, because it was driving him crazy, he went down to the basement.
"Why am I not surprised?" he asked himself when he found the room empty. "Surely, dey wouldn' do de same t'ing twice…"
He went back upstairs, somewhat discouraged. It was still too quiet. He ran into Tante Mattie in the hallway by the living room.
"Dere's somet'ing wrong, Remy." She said, a worried frown on her face. She didn't know what was going on either, but she had a feeling Gris had a lot to do with it.
"I know Tante. But I can' find dem. I can' find any of dem." Remy replied with a sigh. "I don' know where dey are."
As if on cue, there was a loud crash, followed by a thud, from the second floor. Both Remy and Mattie looked up the stairs in time to see Claude slumping against the wall.
"Claude!" Tante Mattie exclaimed. Remy raced up the stairs three at a time, reaching Claude in time to catch him before he tumbled down the stairs. Mattie followed him. Claude was bleeding from a large gash in his side and as they sat there, he was fading in and out of consciousness.
"Claude, what happened? What's goin' on?" Remy demanded, alarm evident in his voice.
Breathing heavily, attempting to catch his breath, Claude grabbed Remy's arm and managed to gasp out,
"Everyone…Gris…attic…"
"Tante Mattie, could you look after him? I'm gon' go stop Gris…again…" Remy said, getting up and heading towards the back staircase.
"Of course, Remy. Be careful." Mattie replied, helping Claude lay down on the floor so she could tend to his wounds.
Claude looked up at Tante Mattie, pain in his eyes. "It's bad, Tante." He whispered. "Gris really doesn' want de unification to continue an' he's set on killin' everyone who stands in his way."
"Even de other assassins?" Mattie asked.
Claude closed his eyes, flinching in pain as he moved slightly. "Oui. None of dem can reason wit' him, not even Bel."
"Oh dear…" Mattie murmured. Things were not looking good for the Guilds at all. Gris was going to have to be stopped, and Mattie was worried about what it would take to do that. Remy, she knew, would do anything for the thieves, and for Bella Donna. The effort that had been put into the unification by everyone except Gris for the past few days was encouraging, and as Mattie worked on healing Claude's wounds, she silently prayed that somehow, it wouldn't all be in vain.
Remy went into the attic expecting to see nothing but trouble, and he wasn't disappointed. He quickly surveyed the scene and realized he would have to act fairly quickly.
Questa and Singer were tied up so they wouldn't get in Gris' way. Bella Donna, Mercy, Genard and Zoe were unconscious on the floor, each of them with various degrees of injuries. Emil was sprawled against another wall, breathing heavily and holding his stomach. Remy could see the pool of blood on the floor near him. Fifolet and Theoren were working together, trying to fight Gris, who was doing a fairly good job of beating them in spite of Theoren's agility and Fifolet's intangibility.
Remy decided to give them a hand, absently making a note to himself to call Hank when this was over. He had a feeling Tante Mattie alone wouldn't be able to heal the others. He whipped out a couple of playing cards, charging them and flinging them at Gris with accurate precision as Gris literally tossed Theoren into a wall.
The exploding cards merely distracted Gris, who turned to Remy, ignoring Fifolet and Theoren.
"You t'ink you're gon' stop me, LeBeau?" Gris demanded.
"Yup." Remy replied, reaching and grabbing an old sword he saw mounted on a wall. He didn't have his bo staff in the attic with him, so the sword was going to have to suffice. Before he engaged Gris in battle, he glanced at Fifolet, who was helping Theoren to his feet. "Get de others out of here. An' tell Tante Mattie dat when dis is over, I'm gon' call Hank. We're gon' need a real doctor."
Fifolet and Theoren did as they were told and took everyone else out of the attic. Tante Mattie had gotten beds ready for the others, knowing that at least some of them were going to be injured.
Theoren, Fifolet, Singer and Questa helped Tante Mattie get the others into the beds. Theoren tried to hide the fact that he was in immense physical pain himself, but Fifolet noticed and raised an eyebrow.
"You got 'nother one of dese beds, Tante?" he asked. "Theoren's bein' stubborn an' pretendin' he's not hurt, but he is."
Theoren glared at Fifolet but couldn't stay upset because lying down sounded like a really good idea. "Gee, t'anks Feef." He muttered sarcastically.
"Anytime, Marceaux." Fifolet replied with a grin.
"Who do you t'ink is gon' win dat fight?" Singer queried, glancing at the ceiling. It sounded like Remy and Gris had given up on using weapons and were throwing each other around.
"Honestly?" Questa asked. "Given de fact dat if Remy really wanted to, he could literally blow Gris up…I'd have to say Remy will win."
"I hope it doesn' come to dat…" Tante Mattie commented softly, bandaging up Emil's stomach.
Remy groaned as he slammed into a wall. He flipped out another card and threw it at Gris. "C'mon Gris, dis is gon' too far."
Gris snorted and lunged at Remy again. "Not'ing is goin' too far when it comes to dis. De unification will not succeed, if I have anyt'ing to say 'bout it!"
Remy dodged Gris' attack and jumped to the other side of the room. "You don'! De only way you can stop de unification is to kill every single one of us, an' if you do dat, what good would it do you? You'd be de only one left!"
Gris pulled out a gun. "I won' listen to you!" he snarled.
Remy blew the gun up and sighed. "Yes you will. Gris, seriously, dere's not many of us left now as it is. Why jeopardize what's left when you won' gain anyt'ing from it?"
"I…don'…care!" Gris exclaimed, as he and Remy tussled on the floor. Remy decided to get dangerous and let his powers loose. He blew up the floor and the two went crashing down to the second floor of the safehouse, right into room where Tante Mattie, Singer, Fifolet and Questa were looking after the injured ones. The four of them looked at the two men in shock.
Remy chuckled sheepishly, glancing at the hole they'd made. "Hehehe…oops."
"Dis has to end." Tante Mattie said firmly. She wasn't joking. She was sick and tired of Gris' selfish behavior, and on top of that, she knew the others were in desperate need of a real doctor. "Remy, you know of a doctor who can come here an' help take care of everyone?"
"Oui Tante." Remy replied.
"Good, den call him. I need help here. I can' heal dem all on my own." She informed him. Turning to Gris, she frowned. "An' you! You need to grow up. Dis has gone on long enough. I don' care if you don' like de unification. We're stuck in dis situation an' we're gon' make de best of it. Dat includes you, so you better start getting used to it. Any more shenanigans like dis one an' I will get angry."
"Yes Ma'am." Gris said sullenly. He wasn't happy with the developments in the least, but he knew from experience that Tante Mattie could be a formidable opponent when provoked, and he realized she wasn't kidding.
Remy went to the living room to call Hank. He got a pleasant surprise when one of his best friends, Ororo Munroe, also known as Storm, answered the phone.
"Good morning, Xavier's School."
"Bonjour Stormy!" Remy replied cheerfully. He knew his nickname for Storm got on her nerves, but he couldn't help himself.
"Gambit, I do wish you would not call me that." Ororo protested mildly.
"Sorry Ro. Listen, is Hank busy? We're in desperate need of a doctor down here, an' I'm hopin' he can come."
"I do not think he is occupied at the moment, Remy. Hang on a moment, and I will get him for you, so you can ask him yourself."
"T'anks." Remy replied and waited for Hank to come to the phone.
"Hello?" Hank's friendly voice said momentarily. Remy sighed.
"'Ey, Hank."
"Storm tells me you're in need of some medical assistance, my esteemed Cajun friend? What seems to be the trouble?"
"Gris decided to put the unification in jeopardy. He beat up most of de Guild members. Tante Mattie may be a healer, but she can only do so much. Dey need a doctor. Can you come down?" Remy asked hopefully.
"Of course I can." Hank replied. "Just let me get my things together and get a jet ready and I'll be down this afternoon. May I inquire as to whether or not Gris has been contained?"
"Tante Mattie got mad an' tol' him what was what. So you don' have to be concerned. I t'ink he'll b'have himself, for now, at least."
"Perhaps I should take Logan with me, just in case?" Hank joked.
Remy snickered. "If he wants to come, oui, take him along. I t'ink he might be one person even Gris would leave alone. So you'll be here in a few hours?"
"Yes, I should be."
"Okay. Call jus' b'fore you get here, an' I'll send Singer to meet you an' show you de way here." Remy said.
"I will do that. See you in a few hours." Hank replied.
Remy went back up to the second floor, where the others were. "Hank's on his way." He told them. "He should be here in a few hours, hopefully no later den suppertime."
Tante Mattie smiled, her face creased with concern. "I jus' hope dey don' get worse b'fore he arrives."
Remy glared at Gris. "Me too."