Disregard Females, Acquire Currency

Kuroyami Fukaikuro

Author's Note: This is a weird one but I actually really enjoy the notion that Jacques and Roman would get along. They're pretty alike in a lot of ways - dudes just doing what they do to get money and survive, and they're not afraid or ashamed to do it the scummy way either.

Jacques in particular is an icon of the Sigma Grindset. "Beat your children when they act out. Betray your country's security to win an election. Abuse minorities to improve production rates. Never stop the grind."

The back alleys of Mistral were, on good days, grimy, and on bad days, slimy. Littered with the refuse of dive bars and the offal of stray animals, they were hardly a comfortable place to sit and rest in, let alone make a home out of.

Unfortunately, when you were homeless orphans, you had to make do.

"God dammit!"

Two young boys, in their mid-teens, sat in the squalor and lamented their current states. The filth caked their pale skin and torn clothes stolen off a drying line.

The elder of the two boys was a dark-haired, blue-eyed man with a slender frame. He was slightly shorter than the other, but no less wide. A small bit of stubble adorned his upper lip, more from the fact that he couldn't afford to waste his one good blade shaving it than anything else. He was the one who had spoken, his hand having slammed into the nearby wall with rage. He struck an exposed stone, bloodying the edge of his hand and prompting further swears.

The other had orange-red hair that shone through the filth on his person, and bright green eyes that shined with a guile beyond his age. He was taller of the two, equally slender, and his face was clean-shaven, and his clothes (still grimy) had been straightened out, with as much muck slapped off of them as the young man could muster. He was sitting on a crate, leaning his back against the wall, quietly bearing the storm of his friend's anger.

"I fucking told you, Roman!" The first man spoke again. "I told you we couldn't trust Malachite, and now look what happened! We've lost all our credibility! No one's going to work with us again!"

Roman sighed. "Well, what was I supposed to do, Jacques? We had to choose between working with Malachite or Parrot, and Malachite was the better option."

"Yes, but now we've got a permanent reputation for selling out our boss! And she didn't even give us a position or anything decent, just some cash!" With a groan, Jacques sank into a squat, hands clutching his head as he thought hard about their situation. "Fuck," he muttered. After a few moments, he raised his head out of his hands, eyes wide in realization. "It's always women," he said.

"What?"

"It's always women fucking us over. First that whore who tricked us into getting jumped by her pimp, then that Huntress who scammed us out of money for 'training', and then Malachite. None of the men we've ever dealt with have tricked us."

Roman, still leaning back on his seat, hands laced behind his head, blinked in contemplation. "Huh. Good point. And surprising, all things considered - we've made deals with as many male criminals as female. I wonder why they never tried to trick us?"

Jacques stood up and began pacing. "Doesn't matter. Once is a coincidence, twice is a pattern, three times is a conspiracy."

"I doubt we matter enough that all women on Remnant are conspiring to screw us."

"Well, probably not, but still. For whatever reason, we have trouble dealing with women. So until we figure out how to get back and deal with them on even ground, we should avoid dealing with them entirely."

Roman glanced over. "So what's the plan, Jacques?"

Jacques straightened up, having reached a decision, before walking back to Roman. He held a hand out and said, "Fuck bitches, get money."

Roman immediately burst into laughter, his hands on his knees as he doubled over on the crate. Jacques remained impassive for the half-minute it took for Roman to compose himself, eventually replying, "Did- did you get that from a song or something?"

"As if I could afford to listen to music. I was trying to copy the slang that some of the gangs use."

"HA! Oh, that's rich! But it doesn't suit you," Roman said, wiping a tear from his eye. "In fact, I think trying to do things that don't suit us is part of the problem."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean we're not the kind of guys who can make it by acting like other people. If we're gonna make it, we need to focus on our own strengths. Let me be the muscle - you might be older than me, but you're absolute shit in fights. You just focus on doing the thinking-"

"As if you're not equally capable in that regard."

"I never said I'd be dumb muscle. But by focusing our efforts, we can actually get more done with this setup than if we both tried to split our attention on being both the brains and the brawn. 'Sides, it's not like I'm gonna stop telling you when an ideas stupid if it's stupid."

"Fair enough. So you're in?" Jacques re-extended his hand out.

Roman took it and grinned. "Fuck bitches, get money."

Five Years Later

Jacques watched the trucks pull in with a grin on his face. Situated in his office (air conditioned, and wasn't that a wonder!), he looked out the window over the facility - the first (and currently only) Dust Refinery belonging to Gele Dust.

A truck bay with space for three led directly to a processing line - there, shipments from the mines would be unpackaged and sorted, and then the raw Dust would be taken to the appropriate refinement machines.

Once refined, the vast majority of the Dust would be moved to the storefronts - two in the Mistral capital, a necessity given the sheer size of the city. One at the top of the East rise of the valley, and one at the top of the West.

As far as money-laundering businesses went, it would normally be considered terrible - laundering illegally obtained cash typically operated on the notion that said cash could be snuck back in as extra income from legal sales. In other words, if someone used a restaurant as a laundering business, the restaurant's records would show extra charges made by each customer, which would account for the stolen money being worked back into legall, usable money. Not to mention, for the sake of records, the product in question would actually have to be disposed of.

However, the system that Jacques and Roman had in place worked because Roman didn't steal money. He stole goods, whether it be jewelry, cars, weapons, antiques - if it had value, real value, there was a good chance Roman was gonna take it. He then sold those products - begrudgingly, through the Spiders, who had something of a monopoly over Mistral's black market - and used that money as funding for Torchlight Moving and Removals. He used it to buy the Dust for fuel for the company's trucks - as well as his own weapons, and those of his "employees" who were aware of the truth of the operation. In turn, Jacques could also use a portion of their black market money to "rent" trucks for use from Roman, putting even more money back into legal use.

In short, Jacques and Roman had formed two businesses that were effective cover operations because they had a symbiotic partnership with each other.

Roman entered the office. Rather than his iconic white jacket and bowler hat, he wore a simple black business suit and thickly framed (but fake) glasses, with his normally well-combed orange hair now mussed and disheveled, and dyed blue (with a product that was easy to wash off). Fake contacts and some expert applications of makeup also helped the disguise, to the point that even Jacques wouldn't have recognized the man for Roman if he didn't already know who it was.

With a sly grin, he greeted, "Well, partner, how's the facility?"

Jacques replied with his own smile, before turning away to observe the workers once more. "Running well. In fact, now that we're no longer outsourcing our Dust refinement process, profits are up twenty-seven percent!"

Roman whistled. "Hey, that's pretty good!"

"Better than good! But how were things in Vale? You're sure it was your last job for Malachite?"

"Absolutely - all my debts are paid. In fact, I even got a little bonus on the trip!"

"Bonus?" Jacques asked, turning back to Roman.

Roman stepped aside, allowing someone else to enter the room - a young girl, barely reaching Roman's midsection in height, with heterochromia and brown hair that had white and pink highlights. She carried an umbrella, and gave Jacques an easy, confident smirk in response to his flat stare.

"Meet Neo!" Roman said cheerily.

Jacques spent several moments looking between Roman and the girl, blinking dumbfoundedly, before he spoke again. "Roman, I know you once told me you had 'singular interests', but what the fuck-"

"It's not like that!" Roman quickly said, panicking. "This is Neo, the newest member of our 'night crew'."

Jacques raised an eyebrow. "This kid? What can she even-" Before he'd finished speaking, the girl shot forward like a bullet, crossing the distance between them in an instant. She drew a blade from the handle of the umbrella and thrust it out, intending to stop just before the blade hit his throat-

Jacques shot his left hand out and grabbed Neo's wrist, his right catching her throat in midair. Held aloft, her eyes widened as she dangled helplessly.

"...I see," Jacques remarked, giving her another look over before gently setting her down. She quickly retreated back to Roman. "So she's Huntress trained?"

"Well, in practice she's about the level of an Academy student. But with my help, she'll be Huntress level in no time."

"See that she is," Jacques said, turning away from them and returning to his desk in the office. "Considering our past pact, I'd hate for it to be broken over something that is ultimately worthless."

"Don't worry," Roman glanced down at Neo, "we have an understanding. If she doesn't pull her weight, she gets cut off."

The girl nodded vigorously. Jacques raised an eyebrow. What happened between them to make that their deal? …irrelevant. I can trust Roman to handle his new apprentice, and if she steps out of line, I'll just kill her.

"By the way," Roman began, walking over, "you mentioned some news?"

"Yes," Jacques said, pulling out some documents and sliding them across the desk. "See what you make of that."

He picked them up and scanned them, reading out loud. " 'Schnee Dust Company purchases rights to Mistrali Mine - hinting at foreign expansion'?"

"A competitor," Jacques replied. "And an Atlesian, at that. Make note of the head."

" 'Nicholas Schnee,'" Roman continued, " 'Founder of the SDC, got his start as an Atlesian Specialist, but left the military to pursue private interests. He is well renowned for personally dealing with Grimm and clearing mining sites…'" Roman trailed off, then looked up. "So he's serious."

"There's more."

"Oh?"

"He contacted the company. Apparently, he's looking to acquire us - offered twenty million for ownership."

Roman whistled. "You gonna sell?"

Jacques looked at him, then back out to the refinery. He stood from his chair and looked out at what he'd built - perhaps not with his own two hands, but with his will, his drive, his intellect.

"Do you remember how we used to live, Roman?"

Roman's expression hardened. "As if I could forget."

Jacques nodded, and motioned out at the refinery. "We had nothing. Nothing but the skin on our backs. But now… Now we have something. Maybe it's something small compared to an international corporation, but it's something significant enough that Schnee considers us competition. We have something that is ours, truly ours, and I will not give it up for some meager sum of money."

Roman's face lit up with a feral grin. "So, how do you think we should deal with him?"

Jacques turned back to him. "We need more information. Do you have any contacts in Atlas?"

"Not personally, but I think Junior does."

"See what he can get out of them. I'll talk to our associates here - I think they'll be as offended by this Atlesian incursion as we are."

Roman nodded, but asked, "You really wanna jump back into gang politics?"

" 'Better the devil you know', as the saying goes. Schnee can have Atlas, even Vale if he wants, but Mistral is ours, and I will not give it up."

"Alright then," Roman said, turning away. "I'll get started on my end. Don't work too hard now."

With that, he walked away, Neo trailing behind him.

Jacques turned back to the refinery once more, before returning to his desk and turning on his computer. He quickly ensured that his encryption software was running, then sent some messages to contacts he had with the other Mistrali organizations- the Spiders, of course, but there were also the Tenryu, the Three Families, and even the Branwen.

You don't know what you stepped in, old man.

Three Years Later

"Roman! How are you, son?" Nicholas Schnee had a pleasant smile on his face as he approached Roman. He wore a simple Atlesian-white suit and carried a glass of champagne with him. His characteristic white hair was parted and combed, and while Roman typically knew him to have long bangs that partially covered his right eye, it seemed he'd gotten it cut for the occasion. His white clothing was accented by his signature red scarf, which he somehow managed to work into the formal attire.

Roman nodded. "Doing fine, Mister Schnee."

"Aw, come now, there's no need to be formal with me! Jacques may be the one marrying Willow, but as far as I see it you're as much family now as he is."

Roman knew he could no longer avoid being friendly. Not that he would dare to be insulting - he knew that for all of Nicholas Schnee's affability, it was just an illusion hiding the monster within. He'd seen the man kill far too many people to not be afraid of him. "Of course, Nicholas."

Nicholas nodded and grinned, and slapped his hand on Roman's back, pulling him in to whisper in his ear. "Look at her," he nodded to the floor, where Jacques and Willow were having their First Dance. "Isn't she beautiful?"

Willow was beautiful, Roman couldn't deny that. Or at least, the people in charge of her appearance had made absolutely certain that she wouldn't look anything less than perfect. Not a single strand of her long white hair was out of place; her makeup was perfect, cheeks tinted to just the right amount to accentuate her eyes; her dress, designed to perfectly accentuate her figure without being erotic; the colors, Atlesian-white with the perfect splash of Mantle-blue to catch the eye.

"Her costume designers did well," he said without thinking.

He realized he'd made a mistake when Nicholas squeezed his shoulder. "Now now," he said softly, "there's no need for that kind of talk, is there? It's my daughter's wedding! They say it's the happiest day of a woman's life. Not that I'd know."

Roman couldn't help but be curious. "You and your wife didn't have a wedding?"

"No, back then we didn't have time for a wedding - after I left the military, I was so busy turning my father's failing business into a successful one that I didn't have the time to spare for her."

Roman looked over to Willow's mother, who he hadn't spoken to - alone, separated from the rest of the guests, watching her daughter with an expression that was undeniably happy, and yet, Roman thought, tinged with jealousy. "I assume she wasn't very happy about that."

Nicholas followed Roman's gaze. "No, she wasn't. But she's besides the point." Nicholas gave Roman's shoulder another squeeze - clearly, this was the important part. "I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into the SDC. Literally, as you know. And while I have a lot of respect for you and Jacques and how you ran things in Mistral with no-one to teach you, just remember that I'm in charge now. You're not dealing with two-bit gangs or bandit clans. This is the big leagues - we deal directly with the Atlas Military, the Huntsmen Academies, and all four Councils. I know Jacques can keep up- or rather, now that he's sealed the deal with Willow, he has no choice but to play ball. But if you don't pull your weight, I'll wipe you, your gang, and your little apprentice off the face of Remnant. Am I clear?"

"Clear as ice, Nicholas," Roman replied with the traditional Atlesian saying. Thankfully, it appeared to score some points, as Nicholas gave a seemingly genuine smile as he nodded.

"Good, good," he chuckled before downing his glass. "It's funny when you think about it."

"What is?"

Nicholas chuckled again. "If you'd been the one in charge of the Dust operation, rather than the transportation, then I'd have made Willow marry you, rather than Jacques."

Roman maintained his neutrally happy expression as the First Dance concluded, and he began clapping with the rest of the guests. "To be honest Nicholas, it's probably better this way - I'm no slouch, but compared to Jacques, I don't have a lick of business sense."

"In that regard, you're just like Willow. You know, she still thinks I'm going to make her my heir?"

"You're not? I assumed you'd make Willow the heir for optics, but have Jacques be a sort of 'power behind the chair' or however the saying goes."

"Ha! As if. Her mother had custody of her for the most part while I was working, and the stupid whore took all the money I gave her and spoiled her. My daughter's a vapid bimbo, just like her mother - giving her to Jacques to ensure our merger happens and seal his connection to the SDC is about all she's good for."

Roman nodded, his fake smile still present when one of the cameramen came by to get a picture of him and Nicholas - the Best Man and the Bride's Father - together. As the underpaid girl walked away, Roman replied, "Well, in that case it's all the better that I'm not the one dealing with her. With Jacques, she can just be the arm candy - with me, well, it'd be difficult to maintain appearances with me 'working the night shift'."

"Fair point, Roman." Finally satisfied, Nicholas released his arm from around Roman's shoulder, and it took all of Roman's strength to not breathe a sigh of relief - he couldn't show such weakness, not in front of Nicholas, and definitely not in front of the other guests - many of Atlas' movers and shakers. Nicholas gave Roman another pat on the back - slipping a note into his breast pocket with his other hand - and moved away, placing his empty glass on a table.

Even then, as the monster in human clothing walked away, Roman maintained his facade of calm. He was in enemy territory, after all - a wolf in the lion's den.

"Neo," he whispered. He felt a small tap on his leg and knew she was there - had been there, using her Semblance to hide. He reached for his breast pocket and pulled out a handkerchief - and the note. As he pretended to wipe his face, he read the scrap of paper - coordinates, likely a safe drop-off point for the Dust that the gang had 'stolen' from SDC storefronts.

It was a simple system - the gang, now under Roman's control, would steal Dust from SDC retailers. Those retailers would have their supply and damages reimbursed by the insurance companies. The Dust would then be returned to the SDC through these various drop-offs or other methods, and then passed around to other retailers so no one ever suspected the 'Dust recycling' system that the SDC was using. It was, in fact, something that Roman and Jacques had begun doing towards the end, when it had become clear that Nicholas Schnee would not be stopped, and now, adapted to fit the SDC, it was being performed far more professionally, almost to the point of being clockwork.

In the short run, it didn't mean much, but the product recycling allowed retailers to maintain their inventories even as new Dust was mined, refined, and brought in - a surplus that could then be used to supply new storefronts, fostering expansion.

Roman subtly passed the note down to Neo and it disappeared, as did her presence. She knew what to do.

Roman then looked back at the proceedings - the cake-cutting had begun. As far as he could tell, Willow seemed genuinely happy - a small part of him felt ashamed that what seemed to be genuine love on her part was being taken advantage of, but that was how the world worked - the strong eat the weak. For the weak to survive, the strategy was simple - lie, cheat, steal. He'd done all three, in varying amounts, all to reach this point, and even now he felt small in the face of the overwhelming power of Nicholas Schnee and Atlas.

As for Jacques - well, Roman didn't bother checking his expression. Jacques had always been the better actor between the two of them - it was why he'd been the face of their operations. When Nicholas Schnee had told him, bloodied under his fists, to seduce his daughter or die, well, Jacques went along with it. After all, in the end, it was the same strategy as always: he lied to Willow as he spoke his vows; he cheated in seducing her as they'd both been spurred on by Nicholas; and in the end, it seemed that independent of Nicholas' manipulations, Jacques had stolen Willow's heart naturally.

A/N: I guess the punchline for this fic is that Jacques and Roman just can't avoid dealing with women, even if they want to? There wasn't really much of a plan for this, just a concept. More dedicated people than me could do a lot with Jacques and Roman being bros.

As for Nicholas' character, well- I know it flies in the face of canon, but I think it was the second punchline, in a way. That for all that Jacques and Roman 'disregarded females' Nicholas had them both beat, seeing his daughter as nothing more than an asset to be married off to strengthen ties. Sort of like a politically arranged marriage, but business.

In canon, Nicholas is supposedly this uber-nice dude who never did wrong, and Jacques' very existence shits on his legacy or something, but I think that's bullshit? Regardless of what Jacques became (in canon), the fact remains that Nicholas CHOSE to make Jacques the head of the SDC. Jacques, and Jacques alone had the business acumen to receive Nicholas Schnee's approval.

Honestly, this brings to mind another fic idea where I would just explore the various circumstances under which Nicholas Schnee would willingly make Jacques his successor - whether through pure business acumen, criminal hardness, or even being as combat capable as Nicholas (or at least able to hold his own) it would be interesting to explore the various ways that Jacques proved himself to Nicholas.