Cortex IV: Breaking and Entering
Cortex Investigations Headquarters
James was in his office again when the door suddenly banged open with enough force to make several of the hinges groan ominously as they tried to hold the door upright. He looked up from the screen of his laptop angrily. He had made it perfectly clear that he was not to be interrupted without warning, or at least he had thought he had. It appeared that at least one of his team-mates had not taken the hint. His scowl was more than a match for Logan's legendary glower and Guido recoiled visibly. He turned and hurried back out, easing the door gently closed behind him. James stared after the massive mutant, completely bemused by the ridiculous pantomime. Suddenly there was a light tap-tap at the door.
"What," he said flatly. He wasn't sure if he was asking what the knocker wanted, or just what the hell was going on; he suspected it was both. He was more surprised than maybe he should have been to see Guido shuffling sheepishly into the office. He sighed wearily.
"What do you want Guido?" he asked.
"It's just, uh, well, we sort of, y'know..."
"No I don't know, so I suggest you hurry up and tell me.
"We know where Layla Miller is," the muscle-bound mutant replied.
"What?" James said again, this time more excitedly. "Really?" Then he sat back down, looking sceptical. He remembered the way Guido had veered between excited and sheepish, and guessed that there was slightly more to the story than his friend had initially let on.
"So what's the problem?" he asked.
"What problem? Who said there was a problem? I never said there was a problem," Guido said hurriedly but seemed aware that the game was well and truly up and didn't bother making any more futile attempts at insouciance. "The problem, which I never said there was, but it turns out there actually is one after all..."
James coughed pointedly.
"Uh, yeah," Guido said hastily. "The problem is that we know where Layla is but not where she actually is."
James ran that sentence back in his head a few times to see if he could make any sense out of it. After a few moments he gave up and decided it was just as nonsensical as he had first thought.
"So do we or don't we know where she is?" he said.
"Yes, and then again no, well, basically, sort of," Guido said, displaying his talent for creating explanations that were more complicated than the initial question had been. "We know some guy calling himself called Mr Negative has her, but we don't actually know where he is, or where he's keeping her."
"It's a start," James said hopefully. "Give me half an hour to do a bit of checking, call in some favours, then you'd better get the team together. We might actually be onto something at last."
Within the hour, Cortex Investigation Agency was once more crammed into James' office. He had wondered why the personnel of SHIELD had not managed to find one bigger, as they clearly knew a lot about the team and how it ran, but on consideration found he quite liked it as it was. It served as a reminder of how things had once been, and physical closeness when discussing cases added camaraderie and emotional closeness, something that had been sorely lacking ever since Julio's betrayal had heralded the attack on the old base. James looked at Guido.
"You want to do the honours?" he suggested. "It was you who found out after all."
"I found Layla Miller," Guido said simply. Teresa beamed with joy and threw her arms as far around him as she could, but her arm-span barely reached across his barrel chest. Monet was characteristically unforthcoming with lavish praise, although she did reward the big mutant with a grudging nod of approval.
"How many people did you have to beat up before one of them proved useful?" she asked caustically.
"I didn't beat up anyone," Guido defended himself. "Oh, okay, I did punch that Tolensky weirdo but the guy hops around alleyways eating flies- he had it coming. Besides, that was nothing to do with Layla anyway."
"I guess that makes it okay then," Monet said dryly. "So where is the precious little moppet? She's been giving us the run-around long enough- I just want to get this over with."
"Ah," Guido said nervously.
"'Ah?'" Monet repeated. That had not sounded positive and she did not like negative news, unless of course it was her breaking it. Guido scratched his head nervously.
"The thing is... I don't actually know where exactly she is," he confessed.
"Colour me surprised," Monet sniped. "Actually- don't, because I'm totally not."
"So what have you managed to find out Guido?" Teresa butted in. She could see the despondent look on Guido's face and if in cheering him up she could score a point over Monet, well, so much the better. "It's much better than anyone-" she glanced pointedly at Monet "-else has managed."
"Someone calling himself Mr Negative abducted her," he explained. "Well, actually he got someone to do it for him. He's some kind of crime boss, but he's got some great PR people, cause as far as the rest of the world knows he's this self-made millionaire who patronises several charities."
"How are you so sure he isn't? I mean, if these cover-ups are so good..." Teresa queried.
"Because one of the charity organisations he was involved with was called African Peace Ambassadors," Guido explained, his voice unusually bitter. The faces of all his team-mates suddenly darkened with anger and acrimony as they all recognised the name instantly.
"They were the ones running that blood diamond smuggling ring," James said.
"That's the one," Guido confirmed. "And, well, the rumours going around about this guy are too widespread not to have some kind of basis in fact."
"What else do we know about this Mr Negative?" James asked. "We had any... dealings with him before?"
"Not that I know," Guido said. Monet ran back through her near-faultless memory in case she could attach the name to any previous cases, but it came out blank. Guido carried on talking. "Of course, it's totally possible we did and didn't even realise, I mean he was behind that diamond smuggling gang and we only just found out. I'm sure that he's got fingers in plenty of other pies if we could only prove it."
"I'm assuming that 'Mr Negative' is an alibi?" Teresa put in. "Because if he was born with a name like that it's no wonder he turned out evil."
"He was originally 'Miss Negative' but when he got to those difficult teenage years, he had a few, ah, gender issues, and well..." Guido explained. He remained pokerfaced and his tone was so matter of fact that even Monet, with her telepathic powers, was not entirely sure whether he was joking or not. James on the other hand realised that Guido had resumed his role of team prankster and decided to step in regarding explaining the information.
"Mr Negative is the name he goes by in his criminal dealings," James confirmed. "His real name is Martin Li. To the world at large he's a businessman, dealing mainly in exotic goods the general market doesn't normally sell. Unfortunately the Negative codename is so solid that even the police are able to conclusively link it to Li, according to Bishop anyway."
"So how do we know that they really are the same person?" Monet questioned. "I suddenly have a mental image of us trying to arrest a genuinely law-abiding businessman and making ourselves look even more ridiculous than normal."
"Because both Bishop and Jess Jones agree that Negative really is just a codename," James said. "There are all kinds of stories and rumours, and plenty of evidence. Unfortunately none of it is the kind of evidence that would hold up in court."
"So we have this gangster who employs mutant thugs and is powerful enough to hold off the Bayville Police Department with ease... and we are going to try and beat him?" Monet summarised, not sounding impressed.
"That's right." James' tone of voice made it sound so easy.
"And how exactly do you propose we do this?"
"By the seat of our pants and a whole lot of luck," James said. "It's always worked before- why mess with a winning formula, right?"
"Because it's stupid, bound to fail and completely predictable," Monet said.
"I like it," Guido said.
"You would," Monet said darkly. Teresa found herself somewhere between the two opposing points of view. James had a point when he said that their plans often involved considerable good fortune, but he was equally accurate when saying they often worked. Besides, despite his affable nature and easy-going demeanour, there was a very sharp mind lurking behind the facade, and she suspected he already had a slightly more complex and cunning plan than simply relying on good fortune. On the other hand, although Teresa was loath to admit it, Monet also had a good point. There was only so far their luck could be stretched.
"So what's the actual plan?" she asked. To her mind, this was the make-or-break question. If James could prove he had thought this through and come up with a rational, feasible plan, then she would go through with it; he was the leader after all. On the other hand, if he really did intend to try and bluff and chance his way through then she would have to pull out. It was common sense, really.
"If we can catch Negative at one of his hideouts then we should be able to pull a Liebewitz on him, get him out of there and find out what he knows and where he's keeping Layla," James explained.
"Liebewitz was a has-been, his security was nothing special," Monet countered. "Negative's going to be surrounded by lackeys and bodyguards. Besides, even if we do get him out of there it's going to be much too high-profile for us to cover up like we did with Liebewitz."
"Too high profile for us, yes," James conceded. "But I'm pretty sure SHIELD can take the heat."
"You want to get SHIELD involved in this?" Guido sounded disbelieving. "It's bad enough we took their money, do we really have to owe them a favour on top of that?"
"We owe them jack shit," James countered. "They want Layla, then they'd have to get through Li anyway. This way not only do they keep their hands clean of the whole thing they also get a chance to take down a dangerous and influential crook. If you think about it, they'd owe us the favour."
"That's actually quite clever," Monet conceded; from her that was the highest praise he could hope to earn. Guido and Teresa also looked very impressed, but of course Monet was not one of the world's natural optimists and was already looking for flaws in the plan. "Of course, there's no guarantee that Cooper will actually go along with this."
"As a matter of fact... There is," James said happily. "I've already gone through it with her. She's agreed to cover up the mess afterwards but no SHIELD personnel will get involved in the actual raid, they don't want to be too blatant in their... sponsorship of us."
"That's as maybe, but somehow I doubt that Mr Li is going to be accommodating enough to advertise where and when he's going to show his face at one of these criminal hideouts of his," Monet countered.
"True," James countered. "Fortunately for us, we're not the only ones with our eyes on Mr Li. The police have kept a tail on him for a couple of years now; they know where he is at most times. If it wasn't for him having one of the most soulless, evil, expensive but unfortunately incredibly successful team of lawyers licking his ass they'd have collared him ages ago. We on the other hand don't have to worry about that kind of thing thanks to that nice Ms Cooper and her friends in high places."
The other members of the detective agency thought through this plan carefully. Considering that he had had less than an hour to come up with this plan and run it past SHIELD to get approval, it was a remarkably clever and probably successful plan. In fact it was almost too good to be true. While James was no idiot by anyone's standards, he was not renowned for his ability to conjure up master plans on a whim. However he had come up with this particular ploy, it had clearly taken him more than a half an hour's worth of thinking and phone calls.
"How did you manage to come up with something like that so quick?" Guido demanded, speaking for both the girls as well.
"I've been thinking about it for a while," James admitted. "Well, not Li specifically, but ever since SHIELD decided we were working for them I was trying to work out how to make that work in our favour."
"How unusually foresighted of you," Monet deadpanned. James seemed totally unphased by her rudeness. That was not particularly surprising though- he had been around her quiet long enough to know that she considered good manners as something similar to bargain shopping- good enough for the common crowd but far below her personal standards.
"I've got a few ideas about how to pull off the capture itself," he said. "As soon as Bishop tips us off about when and where to go, this is how it's going to go down..."
The old headquarters, Bayville
Remy and Logan were doing their best to blend in to the crowds. Even several weeks after the riot had been dispersed, morbid curiosity and an irrational interest about mutants drew people in to the scene. Logan was sure there were more than a few journalists amongst the milling people; somehow he could pick up all sorts of facts about people purely from their scent, and the distinctive stink of the Fourth Estate was all over the scene. What they wanted he did not know- the mutants were long gone. Unfortunately they were interfering with his own plans, albeit unwittingly. He and Remy were also trying to find some kind of clue about either the mutant investigators or the ones who had attacked them, but if they showed too much interest the journalists would be onto them like bloodhounds. He did not doubt that someone, somewhere in the crowd would have a video camera available and that within hours the faces of himself and Remy would be plastered all over the news, as would their interest in the building and its former occupants. That would only serve to tip off the very people they were trailing that they were being followed and that would do no good at all.
"I still don't see why you don't let me break in," Remy complained. "No-one would ever see me- I'm way too good for that."
"Can't chance it," Logan growled.
"It's no chance, mon ami, its pure fact," Remy said confidently. "I don't want people seeing me, I don't get seen."
"Fine," Logan finally gave in. "But not now- wait til there're less people around."
"What's this? The infamous Wolverine's turning into an old woman?" Remy taunted him, but the Canadian did not rise to the bait. The Cajun thief slumped back in his seat in annoyance. He was adamant that his thieving skills were more than up to avoiding the attention of a bunch of tourists, hell, he'd back himself against a similar number of wary cops. The way he saw it, the wasting time was pointless, and time that could be better spent tracking down Layla. He was about to try another jibe when he noticed Logan's head had suddenly snapped up and was looking at someone in the crowd. Although Remy hardly knew the feral Canadian, he recognised the intense eyes and taut muscles that always accompanied Logan's sudden hunter's instinct firing up. At these times he resembled a wolf far more than a wolverine, but either way whatever had got his attention was soon going to regret it.
"What's the matter?" Remy asked sharply. All the humour was gone from his voice and was replaced by excitement and even a little exhilaration. After days of inactivity and waiting around for things that never happened it seemed he might finally get to see some action at last. Logan did not look around and spoke from the corner of his mouth.
"Tall woman in a jacket and cap, standing by the lamp-post," he muttered. Remy's sharp eyes picked out the woman immediately. She was dressed casually but had an air of watchfulness and barely-restrained anger, an impression the short, business-like cut of her hair only added to.
"I see her," he said.
"She's part of the same outfit as that Horowitz guy," Logan said. Remy didn't see how he could be so sure. He knew that Logan's nose was impossibly acute but it seemed improbable he could tie this woman to an organisation of some kind simply by smell.
"You sure?" Remy couldn't help asking.
"Oh, I'm sure alright," Logan growled. "This nose doesn't lie. She's in on it."
"So what do we do? We going to grab her like we did that other guy?" Remy asked. His speciality was thieving; something like this was more in the line of work of his hereditary enemies, the Assassin's Guild. Logan on the other hand was in his element. Exactly what he had done and gone through at the hands of Weapon X was a mystery, but the skills he had developed in those dark days were never forgotten: assassination and abduction were second nature.
"No, she probably can't tell us anything we can't get out of Horowitz. But she might be able to lead us to where these assholes are all coming from," he said. "Time to see if you've got the moves to match your mouth- we've got to try and follow her... without her knowing."
"Oh, come on- I could do that with my eyes closed," Remy protested.
"Yeah, well, keep 'em open. We want to know where she's going."
"She's not going anywhe-" Remy began. "Hey, where'd she go?"
The woman had vanished as abruptly and as completely as if she had been a teleporter like Kurt. Even Logan seemed confused at first, then a grim foreboding settled over his face as he picked her up again, heading off down the street at a brisk pace. "She's got military training to pull that trick," he said. "So don't get cocky Cajun cause this girl's way above that idiot in the infirmary."
Remy did not grace this wisdom with a reply, instead he moved off in the direction taken by the woman, who was still walking as fast as was possible without raising suspicion. Logan had to admit that Remy was indeed very good at shadowing someone without giving himself away. If Logan hadn't known that Remy was a lying, manipulative thief he would not have taken the tall, lean stranger in the long coat to be anything except another average tourist. He soon joined the Cajun and they strolled along, apparently two friends shooting the breeze amicably. Thanks to Logan's enhanced senses, they didn't have to rush or look for the woman- they could track her every step with ease. Although both of them were smiling cheerfully, the light tone of their voices belied the dark nature of the conversation.
"How do we know she's even going back to this base of theirs?" Remy asked.
"She was on some kind of patrol," Logan replied. "So either she saw or heard something or it's just time for someone else to take over- either way, she's heading back home."
"Why not just make a phone-call?" Remy queried. "That way there's no chance of anyone doing, well, what we're doing now."
"Good question," Logan said. As soon as he had come up with his theory he had already started analysing it and picking out the flaws and further questions it provoked. Although he could not be certain, he had come up with an answer he thought was the most likely. "If we know they were behind the riot, I'm pretty sure other people will as well. Whoever is behind this is clearly not stupid-he'll know that they're being watched. Only way to avoid phone lines being tapped is to not use them. It's much easier and safer to do it in person."
"That makes sense," Remy conceded. "You clearly put a lot of thought into this," he couldn't help observing. He noticed the quick flash of anger and pain the words brought to Logan's face but for the life of him did not know why this might be. Logan's cryptic answer did not do a lot to clear the situation up.
"Seen it before," he said vaguely. Remy was sharp and quick-witted but it would have taken an idiot not to guess that there was much more to it than that. Fortunately, Remy was also clever enough to know this was one matter you did not want to press.
"What's the plan when we get there then?" Remy said instead. "If this is as secure as you say they aren't going to let just anyone inside, there's no way they'd let us in."
"They won't have any damn choice," Logan said angrily. "I've got security clearance right here." He held up his hands meaningfully. The middle of the street with multiple passers-by was not the place to extend his claws but the point was clear. Remy didn't like the sound of that much. He was not overeager to exert himself right after his recent injuries, and if this woman really was military-trained then he would not have bet against others in the organisation having similar expertise, and quite possibly weaponry to match.
"Are you sure that's the smart plan?" Remy asked. "It's not like I'm afraid to fight but I can't say I'm liking the odds here."
"We aren't going to just walk right into the middle," Logan assured him. "We just need to know where they are and then we'll see just how good at breaking and entering you really are."
"How good I am? I'm the best in the business, that's how good I am."
"We'll see." Logan didn't let it show, but now he was beginning to wonder if Xavier hadn't suddenly developed precognition as well as his telepathy. The insistence that Remy came along had originally seemed intended solely to annoy him now seemed a stroke of genius; Logan might not like the Cajun thief, but if it came to breaking into a guarded, hostile building then Remy was probably the best choice of anyone at the mansion to accompany him. Not only did he have experience and expertise in this kind of situation, it also meant Logan did not feel any pressing need to look out for his companion like he would a student or team-mate. The Cajun could look out for himself, and even if he did get taken down... well, it wouldn't worry Logan too much. The two of them slunk around a corner and watched their target walk up to a building that looked pretty much like any other. Someone greeted her at the door, but instead of an usher this was definitely a guard of some kind. Logan's nostrils twitched as they picked up a familiar tang: gunmetal.
"They're armed," he muttered to Remy, who simply rolled his eyes. The way the cards had been falling for him lately, that was about as lucky a break as he could have expected.
"Quelle surprise," he mumbled. "So what are we going to do?"
"We need to find a way in," Logan said. "There's got to be some kind of entrance around the back somewhere." The guide-slash-guard had disappeared from sight again, and the woman was nowhere to be seen either; presumably she had checked out and been let inside. They made their way across the street. Remy was already weighing the building up, analysing potential entrances and exits, cross-referencing it with similar structures he'd broken into before. It was not what he had expected. He knew they were hardly to be hanging 'Kill All Mutants!' banners out of the windows but this seemed to be just like any other five-storey office in the neighbourhood. No doubt inside there would be more intricate and devious security, but he would worry about that when he got there. They made their way around the back of the building, too quickly for any security cameras to get a clear image of their faces, and crouched behind some kind of massive crate that smelt of cordite and steel, presumably holding more weapons. Remy had managed to scan the building in a few moments and was already weighing up options.
"We want to get the top, oui?" he said. "So it makes sense to get up as high as possible before actually getting in. Problem is we don't know the layout inside, or who's going to be there."
"I assume you're going somewhere with this?" Logan asked.
"Of course," Remy said. "Merely thinking out loud, is all. The way I see it we've got to go quick to avoid the cameras getting any good shots of us, and so no-one out on the street notices something wrong. The guys on the inside aren't going to want the police involved any more than we are, so we can rule that out." The Cajun paused for effect. "We do this fast, and efficient and we get the hell out. Agreed?"
"No arguments from me," Logan agreed. Despite what many people thought, he hated violence, hated it the way only someone who had far too much of it ever could. He had suffered it, seen it, and knew that in the past others had received it at his hands. His reputation for brutality and fabled appetite for conflict were nothing more than a side-effect of the way that fate kept throwing more violence his way. He could run and he could hide, but his brutal past would never truly leave him alone- it was the main reason for his feud with Sabretooth, the personification of that past. "How do you propose actually doing it though?"
"Like this," Remy said. He had already managed to obtain a replacement for his staff, which he now withdrew from his coat and extended to its full length. He took a short run up, then placed one end on the crate and vaulted gracefully up into the air and used the momentum to propel himself through a window. Within seconds, Logan could hear the sound of shouts and conflict. Although he would never admit it to the Cajun's face, he had actually been quite impressed by the manoeuvre. Even without metal coated bones he doubted he could ever match that kind of grace and athleticism. He jumped up onto the crate and then pulled himself up onto the windowsill Remy had crashed through. He could see the tall Cajun battling three guards singlehanded and apparently winning; he could also see a petite young blonde sidling towards the gambler's back. She looked fresh-faced and innocent, and seemed to be dressed like a secretary or junior aide, but the gun she pulled from her pocket shattered that image. He threw himself towards her, but she moved with uncanny speed, whirling, raising the gun and firing in one instinctive movement. Logan howled as the bullet seared his ribs but it barely slowed him, much less stopped him. He batted the gun aside with one hand and brought the flat of the other against the side of the girl's head. There was a loud 'clunk' and she dropped instantly, unconscious.
"It's the Wolverine!" someone shouted, and instantly Logan knew that at least part of his suspicions must be correct. He had barely been there thirty seconds and they had identified him, in the middle of a massive brawl no less. Whoever these people were, they were not as innocent as they tried to appear. A burly man punched Logan square on the jaw, the corridor being too crowded to bring the bulky gun to bear, but Logan simply took the blow square. He felt as much as heard the man's fingers snapping like straw and gave the man his best feral grin. "My turn." He punched the man so hard he was lifted off his feet and thrown against the opposite wall. Logan had decided against using his claws, as dead bodies would cause far more problems than needed, and it was not as if his bare fist weren't more than adequate weapons in themselves. He saw Remy flick the end of his staff up between a guard's legs. The man collapsed, gasping and Remy looked around to where Logan was standing. The Cajun pointed at something behind his feral companion but before Logan could work out what was being indicated, hands grabbed his arms. He could smell at least four or five people behind him, and that seemed to correlate with the number of hands trying to restrain him. He braced his feet and threw himself backwards, the opposite direction to that his assailants had expected. They were all thrown to the floor but while Logan rolled to his feet in the same movement, his attackers were slower to recover. Two punches took care of the first two to try and stand, and the third lurched to his feet just in time to be kicked in the stomach so hard he left a dent in the wall at the point of impact. Logan turned to see the last two guards. One threw himself desperately at Logan, who knocked him out almost casually, but it had simply been a diversion to allow the other guard to retrieve and aim his gun. He pulled the trigger frenziedly but nothing happened. He looked down at his gun in shock only to find everything beyond the finger-guard had been sheered clean off. Logan raised the claws menacingly and smirked at the guard, who turned and ran- headfirst into Remy's raised staff. He fell pole-axed and suddenly the brutal fight was over. It could not have taken more than a few minutes.
"We've got to keep moving!" Remy called. Logan scowled briefly. He was completely aware of what they should be doing, he had been doing it before the cocky young thief was even born, and it annoyed him that he had somehow lost the upper hand in their dynamic. He still moved though- there was nothing to be gained by personal animosity getting them both captured or wounded. Remy bounded up the stairs and kicked open a door. Logan burst in afterwards to see Remy holding three glowing cards in a menacing fashion. His target seemed unworried, and it looked like it would take a lot to worry him. Despite his expensive-looking suit and ostentatious accessories, there was something distinctly animalistic about him, a tiger in a diamond collar.
"What the hell is the meaning of this?" the man demanded. To hear him you would think the trespassers were a bunch of overenthusiastic teenage protesters, not a pair of dangerous mutants.
"Who's paying you, Smith?" Logan demanded. He knew the man had to be the infamous Graydon Smith, leader of the Friends of Humanity and noted anti-mutant campaigner. If Horowitz was right, that made this man the leader of whoever had attacked Cortex Investigations, and therefore their link to who was behind the kidnapping of Layla Miller but also whoever was funding the Friends' latest campaign of violence.
"Get out of my office or I will call the police in," Smith said calmly. Logan was pretty sure he was bluffing but just in case he wasn't rammed his adamantium claws through the intercom on the man's desk.
"Want to try that again?" he suggested.
"You break in here, attack my employees and threaten me- do you really think you will just walk away from this?" Smith tried again.
"Employees who carry around guns," Logan shot back. "Besides, we have a witness who will gladly tell us everything and anything we want to know about what you're really up to."
"You're bluffing."
"Want to call it?" Remy stepped in. He was twirling the cards in his fingers. Smith looked at them both and decided that he couldn't risk it. If they were telling the truth, his whole operation could be brought down. Even if they weren't, Logan's reputation preceded him, and although Smith didn't recognise the tall one accompanying the Canadian, he did not look like the kind of man to be taken lightly.
"I'll tell you what you want to know," he said finally. "But you leave us out of this from now on. You cause problems for us and we can sure as hell cause them for you."
Remy was about to protest but Logan put a hand on his chest to quieten him. "Deal... but we find out what we want directly."
Remy was not sure what that meant until Logan pointed at the laptop on Smith's desk. "Download everything, names, numbers, the whole lot. We'll look through it when we get out of here."
Remy sat down and began tapping keys furiously. The Thieves Guild was ancient but not antiquated, and knew to move with the times. Stealing information, computer hacking and internet piracy were just as much part of thievery as the old-fashioned breaking and entering routine; besides, Remy had used the equipment Magneto had provided, and compared to that this was simplicity itself. Logan held Smith in place with the threat of his claws as Remy worked, and before long Remy had managed to send a copy of every file on the laptop to the computers at the Institute. Once he was done, he turned and nodded to Logan.
"Listen," the Canadian said, prodding Smith with the very tips of his claws. "We're leaving, and if you've got any brains you're going to just let us go. If you don't..." He didn't finish the threat, but he didn't have to. There was the physical menace of the metal claws but also the unspoken danger of the downloaded files, not to mention the 'witness' Logan had mentioned earlier. The two mutants had him bound with several different ropes, and they all knew it. Despite this, Smith made a valiant attempt at defiance.
"This is not the end of this, mutant scum."
"Is that so?" Remy asked dangerously. "I guess that means the only question is who will be ending who?" He tossed the charged cards onto the desk. Smith cringed instinctively but they simply fizzled harmlessly before they landed. Remy laughed at the man's discomfort then turned and walked out of the office. Logan retracted his claws very slowly, drawing the maximum discomfort from Smith as he could, then followed the Cajun. Smith heard a yell as a fanatical but misguided man tried to slow the two mutants down, then a crack as the man was swatted aside contemptuously. He considered his options. He could call his paymaster and explain what had happened, but that would probably cause more problems than it solved. For one thing, he did not relish the prospect of admitting that two mutants had taken on his entire staff and won, nor did he think the news of just how much information had been stolen would do him any favours. He was still sure that the X-Men would be crushed easily if they tried to take on his benefactors, and there was no point interfering in that little brawl. Besides, he had money and weapons provided for him, and it was not as if there weren't other people who would be interested in the services Smith and his followers could provide- he had heard rumours of some crazy but immensely popular televangelist trying to whip up a modern-day crusade- Strider, Stryker, something like that. Yes, he decided. It was definitely time he was gone.