A few hours later, silence fell over the safehouse. Tante Mattie, Remy, Jean and Hank stood and watched their now-sleeping patients. They were most worried about Emil and Claude, who had suffered the most extensive and severe injuries. Each time one of them breathed deeply, they flinched in pain, in spite of being asleep.
Tante Mattie's emphatic abilities picked up on Jean forming a psychic bond with the two thieves, so that she would know instantly if either of them got worse. The old woman smiled kindly at Jean and shook her head, her long earrings swinging on either side of her face. Jean frowned slightly, wondering why the healer was saying no. She heard Mattie's voice inside her mind seconds later, answering the question.
'You don' need to keep a telepathic eye on dem, Chil'. I feel everythin' dey do, an' if dey become distressed, I will know instantly. Don' be worryin' 'bout dem.'
Jean nodded, not surprised that Mattie could speak to her telepathically. She knew all of them could, if they wanted to and if Jean's mind was open to it.
Remy moved to the door and his three companions looked at him questioningly. "I t'ought we could go down to de kitchen an' take a breather. It hasn' been an easy day, after all."
"Dat's a wonderful idea, Remy." Tante Mattie agreed, following as Hank and Jean left the room behind Remy.
Once they were all comfortably seated in the cozy safehouse kitchen, Hank, after accepting a cup of tea from Tante Mattie, commented on the guild relationships.
"It is truly heartwarming to realize first hand just how much they care about each other, Remy. You are fortunate to have them in your life."
"Oui, I know, Hank. It's hard sometimes, an' de unification is still very touch an' go, mais even de other assassins are makin' an effort now. De only one who's still causin' problems is Gris, as you can see." Remy replied with a sigh, absently stirring his tea with a spoon.
"Tante Mattie," Jean began, having gotten an idea. "You told me earlier that you have an emphatic connection to Emil and Claude. Is that true for everyone in the guild family?"
Mattie smiled and nodded. "Oui, Chil'. Good or bad, ev'ry t'ief an' assassin in de guild has a special place in my heart. Dey are all very important to me, I love dem all as if dey were my own children. Why do you ask?"
"I was just noticing that the other assassins, as well as Logan, have been gone for hours. I'm starting to get worried about what might have happened to them, or what they might be doing to someone else." Jean explained.
"Dat's true, dey have been gone a long time." Remy agreed.
Mattie was silent for a few moments and then she laughed suddenly, shocking the people around her. "Dey're fine, an' so is ev'ryone else. I t'ink your friend Logan is teachin' Gris a t'ing or two 'bout bein' intimidatin'."
"Are you certain of that?" Hank questioned.
"I don' know how sure de t'ings I'm pickin' up are, Dr. McCoy, mais, I do believe Logan can hold his own wit' Gris, if I'm not mistaken."
It was Remy's turn to laugh. "Oh don' worry, Tante, you're right. Logan can definitely take care of himself, no matter who he's dealin' wit'."
"I certainly hope so." Mattie replied.
"What I would like to know is what happened when Logan showed up in front of the assassins." Jean giggled. Knowing Logan, it was probably a scene not to be missed.
Gris-Gris, Fifolet, Singer and Questa remained seated when Logan made his presence known to them. The four of them looked him over critically while he stood there by their table, calmly glaring at them, his brown eyes dark and menacing. After a brief silence, Gris answered the question.
"Maybe. I assume you are the one called Logan."
"Yer assumption's a good one. Mind if I join you?"
The other three simply raised their eyebrows when Gris looked at them questioningly. He shrugged. "Go 'head. We ain' stayin' long."
Logan sat down and pulled out one of his cigars, lighting it and blowing the smoke in Gris' face, making the bigger man cough. "Dere a reason for dat?" Gris asked as the waitress came over and asked Logan if he wanted anything. He said no and then chuckled lightly at Gris as the waitress went back over to ask some people who just walked in if she could get them anything.
"Maybe. Is there a reason why you said what you did?"
Gris' dark brown eyes took on a more menacing darkness. "Perhaps you don' know de meanin' of de word assassin."
"As a matter of fact, I do." Logan replied. "What difference does it make?"
"You never know, homme. I don' like you an' I don' want you stickin' your nose in where it don' b'long." Gris said quietly, standing. He headed for the door, followed by Fifolet and Questa.
Singer and Logan looked at each other. Singer raised her eyebrows so Logan could see them above her glasses, and stood as well. Before she followed her companions outside, she decided to see if he'd answer her question or not. "Are you a mutant, like Remy is?"
"Yep." Logan smiled. "And if yer friend thinks he can kill me easily, he's mistaken."
Five minutes later, Logan left the coffee shop. He looked briefly around and while he couldn't see the four assassins, he knew they were there. He could smell them. He snorted derisively and began walking down the sidewalk. There was an alley in between two buildings just down from the coffee shop and Logan stopped just before he reached it. They were in there, he knew, hiding in the darkness. Waiting.
Logan knew they couldn't take him by surprise, and he also knew he could take them by surprise. Feeling the familiar itch on the backs of his hands he decided he might as well get it over with and stepped into the entrance of the alley.
Gris had no idea that Logan knew the attack was coming. Singer had told him what Logan said to her in the coffee shop, and Gris was bound and determined to prove the other man wrong. As he moved to make the initial attack on Logan he heard a sound he would never forget for the rest of his life.
SNIKT!
In less time it takes to dial a phone number, Gris found himself trapped against one of the brick walls, pinned by two adamantium claws, one on either side of his neck. Logan growled at the assassins, and when Fifolet and Questa moved to attempt to help Gris, the appearance of the claws on Logan's other hand stopped them.
"There's three on this hand too, y'know, bub." Logan snarled to Gris. "And sometimes, when I get real annoyed, they slip. Ya don' want that to happen now, do ya?"
Gris visibly paled and cursed himself for being so scared. "Non…"
"Well good. Then we're in agreement."
"I didn' agree to nothin' 'cept dat I don' wan' dat t'ing to slip an' kill me." Gris protested.
"If ya don't want that to happen, bub, then ya better start listening to me. Yer friends over there have decided to try and make that unification work. That means listening to Gambit and no more picking on anyone. Ever. Ya got that, Cajun?"
"An' what if I don'?"
Logan frowned and snarled menacingly, almost predatorily, at the black man. "If ya don', then there won't be a hole in the ground anywhere on this planet that would successfully hide ya from me."
"Are you threatenin' me?" Gris demanded.
Logan smiled, retracted his claws and walked out of the alley. He paused in the entrance and sneered back at the four astonished assassins. "No. It wasn't a threat. It was a promise."