Jacques Schnee was an opportunist.
He always has been, and liked to cling onto anything that would benefit his company. Any deal, trade, sponsorship, or social gathering his snowflake brand took part in? A decided net gain. How else were the profit margins to increase?
Dust was a valuable resource that all figures in a functional economy require. It fueled vehicles, weaponry, and basic housing utensils.
It was all these things that kept the lien notes flooding his ingenious way. But he also knew enemies could take advantage, whenever their own opportunity strikes. Warping the environment against his righteously controlled free-market. Co-opting and subverting the conglomerate he has founded through sweat, sex, and sentimentality.
Perhaps they'd produce a Dust-source at cheaper prices consumers demanded. Or...they use those who would consume Dust not by the decency of price, but of flimsy morality.
The latter worried him much more than the other. He could not predict how the markets would treat him if the very people fueling it found him undesirable.
He surely beholds the greatest monopoly on Dust today, but soon? Or later? Or in a few years time? Or whenever Klein informs him about another local tomfoolery? As what the Faunus rights activists, making piñatas with his face on them in the streets, are doing?
It's concerning, and he knows why: the people think him an oppressive businessman. A 'bigot', a 'racist', and all sorts of buzzwords the hippy-dippy sheeple like to throw around. He knows, in all obvious terms, the foolishness of these stubborn masses. But unfortunately, the enlightened few safeguarding their civilizations were often left unheard.
And no, he's not talking of the collectivist rabble. Who screech about 'property rights' and 'taxing those who make lien notes'. He's talking about intellectuals, such as he, who capitalize on a market with rapt fervor. Who distributes goods at fair prices most consumers and producers would take.
He does this. His Dust spans entire continents with it's affordable prices and efficient shipping methods. Not even factoring in the industrialized labor system he has crafted. Thousands of men and women pick the Dust and clear the quarries he purchases, Dust of all sorts of grades and colors...
He thumbed one such Dust crystal on his desk. A prominent red one, with a vibrant glow. Reflecting of the allegedly long hard hours his dutiful workers spent on company time. Going through the muck, and Grimm at times as well. Performing the duties bestowed upon them by the company that be.
His company. The Schnee Dust Company. But...
Jacques frowned, and thumbed his Dust back down.
People rage against him, saying all sorts of un-truths about his methodology. They say he overworked and underpaid the 'poor' Faunus at his disposal. That he disregards the animals as nothing more but livestock needing a firm herding. So many times he hears some media pundit call him 'uncaring' or 'evil incarnate.'
Yet the media, the hippies, and the sheeple who are not hippies don't understand him. Don't understand him or his family, as they suffer too. The terrorisms performed by the White Fang is evidence enough of that.
It takes a truly disgusting soul to not acknowledge how his people suffer at the behest of radicals. How his staff and companions and associates and even family get this treatment. Slaughtered and harassed without care, without reason or rationality.
Simply because he's the 'oppressor', the 'tyrant', who must find himself eradicated. It is a horrid affair. And even worse, more sheeple everyday-and hour-think along these lines. They protest and spit and insult innocent people because they have more than them.
They are the quiet revolution that'll destroy his business in the long run. As more and more sheeple snuff out the individuals of competence and fill in the gaps. None with any successful alternative, as subversion was an inherently flawed concept.
Destroying civility each day, pushing Atlas further to the thralls of Faunus Socialism. Which cannot stand. He will not watch the traitors destroy what few civil enterprises there are. He must act and preserve the remnants.
So, he reached out...and...tried something new. He researched the Faunus, the Socialist, the Collectivist, and the Sheeple. Coming to a startling realization in the end:
No matter how he views it...Atlas and abroad are being flooded with these undesirables. Changing demographics on fundamental levels beyond drastic.
Millions of economic refugees, straight from the Vacuo Dunes. Taking space and rationality out of civil society, bringing their corrupt ideologies along. The very same ones that destroyed their homes in the first place.
As the decades pass, as Atlas's own citizens accept them, these people...
They will destroy Atlassian Civilization, and no political squawking will stop this. Politicians do not acknowledge this great replacement and subversion. If Jacques wanted to conserve his company and society, he must find a way to quell the attention of the radicals. From inside and outside, as they are everywhere.
So...he reached out, and for once in his life of rugged individualism, he planned to appeal to identity. He wanted the broader bulk of society to stop viewing him so negatively. And then go back to mindless product consumption.
Someone, somebody, something that will make people think him Faunus friendly. Though he still doesn't see it. Do they not notice the amount of Faunus labor he undertakes? It's quite literally eighty five percent of his workforce!
Matters not, though...what does, is if he could change his image. And after long hours at his work desk, making good use of CCTV sources from all the kingdoms...he found someone.
A boy, and more than that, an Arc. They have a history of being favorable among Faunus populations, and this boy is no different. At least, according to the resume the boy sent him in preparation of their scheduled meeting.
He had it with him now, and squinted at the information.
The boy's name was Jaune. Jaune D'Arc. He was seventeen years of age and decided at the age of fifteen that being a huntsman was not what he wanted. After that revelation, he journeyed the world near and far, ending at Menagerie.
The bleeding heart of Faunus civilization post-Great war, and the home to the White Fang. Somehow, the Arc boy gained admission into the island, and spent several months off the grid there. Learning, planning, experiencing, and most of all, understanding.
But what got Jacques even more interested...was the simple fact this boy contacted him first. He searched, yet this boy begged for a get together at the soonest possible avenue. Claiming to have an answer to his problems with the radical sheeple.
Though the boy used much more charitable language in comparison. Something-something 'the working class and middle class need relief' related.
He accepted the boy though, and if his wrist watch was properly figured...
The door to his office opened, and in came Klein, looking not to tiresome from the long ride to and from port. The man remained quiet in tone, holding the door open, assuredly for their manor's newest guest.
"Master Schnee," the butler intoned, head down. "Mister Arc has been delivered for your scheduled meeting."
That he has. From behind the stout deliverer, Jaune D'Arc strutted on in. Head held high, and fashion sense impeccable.
He wore a pristine white dress suit, with gold lining every inch of the edges. Equally golden-yellow mane slicked back at the root, highlighting lively ocean blue eyes. They sparkled in good humor, and Jacques saw the boy reach out to Klein, smiling.
"Thanks for the ride, man." He said, patting the short man's shoulder. "I'll hope to see you soon. Maybe stay a moment out back?" Those eyes regarded Jacques again. "If our Master Schnee here allows it?"
Baffled, yet not unhappy, Klein looked to Jacques for an answer.
He had no quarrels with it, so he shrugged. "Do what you wish, Klein. Simply leave us be until called upon."
Klein said no more, and gave a deep bow before shuffling out the room. Closing the door with a meaty thud. Leaving the two well dressed gentlemen to their devices.
And devices they were, Jacques gave the boy a favorable once over, as he took a seat before the Schnee. Quiet, yet with a self-assuredness uncommon with the youths of today. Jacques hoped to foster this mentality in his own son.
"I must say," he told the boy, putting his hands together. "If I were to tell myself weeks ago that someone of your calibre would be here, I'd be absolutely cross to believe it. As I often don't dabble in future worries. Yet you are here, offering me a...what did you call it, boy?-"
Jaune crossed his legs over, and held his fingers with a wistful smile.
"An opportunity, sir. There are times in life we're sorta set in our ways, and it takes something strong to make a difference. A breakthrough, where that one lucky chord gets obliterated and everyone suffers."
He tapped his pointer fingers together, they gloved in white.
"I noticed that with you. Schnee Dust is a great example of the right place at the right time, so congrats on that. You knocked the whole 'means of production' thing out of the park."
Jacques felt...intrigued at this boy's spunk. It reminded him of himself, albeit much less refined and reserved.
He never used such simplistic language, or had sympathies to the rabble below, however.
So he hummed at the boy, neutral.
"Thank you, truly. I've worked hard to develop the wealth cultivated here. Enough riches to rebirth this estate thrice over, it's an affair I pride myself in every day." He gestured to the boy, and his suit in particular. "What say you? Are you wealthy, Arc?"
The boy tightened up, so he reiterated. "It matters not either way, my curiosity peaked at your quality attire."
"Oh," the boy said, nodding. "I see."
"Yes….and just for your information?" He started, voice taking a on a higher note, the concern slipping through. "I'm in a rather tight situation as of the moment, and I have...weakened, so to speak, my standards."
He cleared his throat, explaining this more to himself than his audience. "I worry about the longevity of my company you see, and those concerns need efficient measures to fix. And something efficient isn't always the shiniest trinket in the room."
He let the boy digest that bit, and got an even toned response a moment later.
"I've gotten some wealthy donors in my system, yeah." Jaune said, shrugging. "I don't really have my own mega estate or something, but I could get one later on. That's not my goal though, so for now I'm on the move between Vale and Menagerie. Oh, and uh, here too. Home is where the heart is, basically."
"Hm." Interesting. Cross and foolish, but interesting. "Do you wish for wealth?"
The boy paused. "As in, money and power?"
"In a sense, yes." He'd rather know now, as these things must benefit Jacques first and foremost.
"Well, no...I do want to live comfortably with those I value…" the boy scratched his cheek. "But…"
"...Sir?" The boy asked, confused. "I appreciate the curiosity and stuff, but I was the one to find you. A friend of mine has very important reasons to be concerned about your whereabouts, and I wanted to help out." That confusion, interestingly, became willfulness again. "Everything about this meeting is for you, sir, as I know what I have. And to be honest? You'll love it."
The deflection-combined with all the other verbal theatrics yet-entertained him so. Especially the part about himself. He liked himself very much.
"Oh? I will now?"
"Yessir."
"Will it improve company perceptions," he raised a brow. Conflicts of the self keeping his attention on the boy. "And quell the budding concerns I have about the future of Schnee Dust?"
Jaune nodded. He was such a lively fellow, something Jacques never sees in business. "It will sir, and let me explain myself real quick."
The boy stood up, and Jacques racked his brain for reasons as to why he must do this. Why must he allow his heart to listen to this boy prattle on about Faunus and Dust...
Yet when Jacques reminded himself of the statistics, and the dozens of Schnee Piñatas online? He regrouped his priorities straight, forcing himself to tolerate weirdness just this once. Surely the weirdness will make him less a tyrant, no? Make the markets bend to his will? This boy had plenty of it to spare...
When Jaune saw him gesturing the boy on, he rubbed his hands together.
"Right, well, ya know how you're having trouble with Faunuses?"
"An..." Jacques chuckled to himself. "Overt simplification, but yes."
"Okay, cool. So I'm gonna tell you something amazing," Jaune spread his hands out, and looked him right in the eyes. "I've had the pleasure of seeing a lot. A lot. Mistlrian food markets to Atlas seaports, Valen mountainside to Vacuous coastlines, you name it." He swallowed. "I've also seen the little people who live in these places, and the furry people too. More importantly, in key ways."
"I'd expect as much, with your resume." He gripped it for show, lazily shooing him with it. Masking the growing curiosity mixed with uncertainty inside him. "Go on...?"
"I, uh..." Jaune licked his lips. "I'm sure you've heard of Ghira Belladonna's death, right?"
...No, he hasn't, he assumed the dreaded White Fang figure was alive, and rose a brow at the boy as such.
"No? Well uh, yeah, he died in a terrorism related event. That communist dude Adam Taurus kinda thought he was a race traitor, and you know how that goes..."
"...Ah, I see..."
Jacques chortled in ill-amused spite, Jaune shrugged.
"Anyways, I arrived at the island shortly after, and almost died in the whole process of the infighting."
"My condolences."
"Thanks, but I made it out pretty well. Silenna Kahn-the current leader of the White Fang-was able to send Adam off the island by then. She was gonna send me off the sameway, but after Ghira's wife, Kali, found out I was an Arc? They accepted me, ish."
"Interesting...I expected that." Jacques nodded to the boy. "I never knew your father well, but I heard much about his righteousness at Mountain Glenn. You have good blood in you, Arc, and the Faunus who were at your father's side seemed to know it."
Left unsaid the unknown failures of Mountain Glenn, and how it's great leader went down with it. Jaune seemed to get the message though, and sighed.
"Yeah, I guess so. They accepted me based on things I didn't know about myself, but at least I lived to tell the tale and stuff. So that's good, anyways..."
The boy shook his head, looking a little less troubled. "Kali Belladonna grieved the entire time I was there. Her husband was dead and her daughter apparently chose to go off with Adam after the incident, so lots of bad stuff. I kinda didn't like that, and decided to help her out. Which, though it nearly killed me on numerous occasions, I got through it and...befriended her."
Jacques blinked. "That's... the previous White Fang High Leader's wife, correct...?"
Jaune paused for a moment, loosened up, and smirked.
He gave the boy an honest look. "Impressive."
"Yeah, we hit it off and she has some big dreams. Ya know, hopes to improve Faunus human race relations, which is why I'm here today. To make those hopes and dreams a reality, as friends usually do. Just...in my own way." Jaune coughed for a moment, but sobered up right after. "I have a distributable product, a sorta sciencey one. Ready?"
Jacques leaned forward, impatient. "Yes, get on with it."
"Right." Jaune nodded, then glanced at the doorway. "You can come in now!"
Suddenly, the door opened, and revealed a girl with dusky orange hair and piercing gold eyes...with...
He blinked. It was a Faunus, a feline Faunus. It walked up to Jaune with dutifulness, features almost a natural stern next to him. "What is this, Jaune?"
The boy wrapped an arm around the feline girl, though it remained unimpressed looking. "This, sir, is a genetic duplicate of Kali Belladonna. Made from a single hair strand and mass produced to perfection."
"...Amazing..." Jacques admitted, squinting through the absurdity. "You've harnessed something not even the Atlas military could. What is she called?"
"Eh? Oh, her name is technically 'Subject 069' but I like to call her Tabby." He looked at the...tabbycat-girl. "Say hi, Tabby!"
Dull golden orbs looked Jaques's way, and an even more dull voice spoke. "Hi, Meowster."
Perplexed, Jacques leaned back, watching the dolled up catgirl keep that queer composure. Even whilst 'Tabby' snuggled into the boy's hold. Orange dress tacky and loose.
"Arc, what is this?" He said, feeling very not in control. Dare he say fearful. "What's going on? How do you have technological feats federal governing bodies have not?"
"You see," Jaune started, that smirk back on his face. "Long ago, I established a connection with some science dude named 'Murdock.' He took an interest in me, and said 'If anything, what would you want from life?' and well..."
A hand reached for Tabby's ear, and like the beast she was, a quaint noise came out. Jacques felt his very soul flinch.
"Nyah~," it said. Lightly, sweetly. "Nyah-Nyah~, Myaster Jaune-"
Jaune must have seen Jacques's clear discomfort, but continued anyways.
"I told him I want pussy. I want so much pussy, that I can distribute that shit to the poor people who don't get pussy like I do."
A hand reached down below, and though he didn't see it, Jacques twitched at the catty 'mrow' he heard.
"So I went on a journey, got some connections, worked up the courage, and now? I lay bare to you my plan not only for maximum pussy distribution, but the possibility of Saving Remnant."
"Wh-..." Jacques leaned back, baffled in every way. Feeling like a background character in someone else's movie. "What do you?-"
The boy's true colors were showing off, and without regard for Jaque's position, gave a saucy smirk to the man. Groping his product nice and tight, talking over the...lustful...purrs.
"I invite you to the future, old man. I invite you to let go of your past biases against people with animal ears and get a taste of this glorious enterprise. And what that is?"
A drawn out purr, as the subversive boy fondled Tabby's upper body, much to the girl's monotone delight.
"This is how consumption shall go, sir. We Live In A Society that depresses and ignores us, and the answer to our suffering is feeling. We need something that will value us like nothing else, Faunus or otherwise."
Jaune leaned into his product, head on it's shoulder.
"All peoples, regardless of identity and nationality, can agree: we all need catgirls. We need something so subservient, so touchable, and so domesticated, that we heal."
Tabby leaned into her maker, as he guided her shoulders around in place.
"These catgirls, these clones, are Auraless husks of people. Never to have a semblance either, just whatever the biological programming tells it. Their free will is given to them by a supercomputer and nothing else."
"Are you sure?"
"Yep." The boy said, as he squeezed the pale catgirl's shoulders. "Tabby herself has programming that makes her obey me and only me, which we can replicate. Their value is in what stuff they can do for us."
Those eyes of his sparkled in fervor not even Jacques has had before, it was highly concerning. This boy had willpower beyond his own, or some sort of madness that staring into the void brings. It remains to be seen...if he became the monster he must have found...
Jaune continued on, eyes intense and voice without hesitation. It made Jacques's stomach tighten.
"We can make catgirls of all shapes, colors, and sizes. They can be whatever we want: butlers, maids, caretakers, bodyguards, homemakers, anything."
"A-Anything?"
"Yes, absolutely!" Jaune nodded. "They are machinery, they are unionized, and they can please all income levels. As people need their lights, so to will they need their catigirl, who could tuck their children into sleep. Or, even better, 'service' a lonely worker who is over stressed. The possibilities are endless old man, do you see it?!"
The boy leaned forward, pupils dilated.
"Modernity goes to progress each and every day, but we can control it now. We can comfort society into being pleased, as they should."
...He...
Jacques Schnee hunched in over himself, as his mind felt nearly expanded at all these new ideas. These...these opportunities made manifest, potential labor that could perhaps...?
He had to ask. "Jaune, can they work for free?"
The boy grinned. "Yep. You can make them like anything. They're neither human nor Faunus, they are catgirls. Murdock promised me that they aren't valuable, that they are meaningless replicas. So yeah, you can hire them as indentured servants."
Jacques, after numily internalizing that, beamed. Nervous in doing so, but it was...it was genuine. He's seeing things never seen before, potential purchases of a golden era made manifest. Young people loved Faunus, and perhaps...perhaps these catgirls are the best kind of Faunus. That even other Faunus would enjoy!
"I-If that's your deal," he told the boy, gulping down his hesitation. "Then I would gladly enjoy building a partnership with-"
The boy's hand went up, and he frowned.
"Hold on. Before we do any business, I have some requirements."
Jacques didn't mind the provocativeness anymore, or worrisome behaviour. He's loosing himself in a world of money and free market ventures. Of never having to pay others again, of silencing those who rage against him. Surely by the power of catty creatures in a vaguely humanoid shape. With bodies the perfect tool to appease the sheeple. The creatures, even Faunus themselves, might desire...
The masses shall surely think him a progressive, they'll see him handing out catty wives to the Faunus. Oh yes, he could see it now!
But Jacques brought himself in, leading the delusions of grandeur go on hold for a moment, as Jaune went on.
"In order to have access to my catgirls, and subsequently, potential world peace..."
He pointed a finger. "You have to promise either to give your workers a living wage, as well as free catgirls, or simply let them find new jobs."
That gave the Schnee pause. "What?-"
"You heard me. The Faunus people under your disposal are basically slaves, and that's bad. All men are created equal in the eyes of Monty Oum."
"And your...Catgirls?"
"Catgirls are different because they don't have souls, unlike Faunus, who are people. They deserve respect catgirls do not, so I need you to do that." He said this all with a straight-man's face, and his Tabby? Numb, numb and docile.
"Any cooperation between Schnee Dust Company and ELON Industries must have one acknowledgement. That is, both Faunuskind and Humanity need to come together and enjoy catgirls as a unit. We need to unite as one and focus all our pain and suffering into fake flesh people so we stop killing each other. I..."
Jaune sighed, but looked up, determined. "I might've thrown away my chances of becoming a huntsmen, but this? I can be a hero in ways no huntsmen could, and make money while doing it. And if you accept my conditions, you may join me. We can combine my connections and your wealth, and together the world can get catgirls."
The boy's eyes glazed over. "Catgirls. Catigirls everywhere. Imagine that? Free comfort animals that come from the free market. Could you see that, old man? Can you see progress through your ancientness? Can you feel it now, Mr. Schnee?"
...
...
...
Jacques Schnee knew what an opportunity looked like, and-despite the leftover queasiness inside-stood. He walked from behind his desk, and up to the boy, uncertainty in his heart, but not his face.
"Are you telling me, boy..." he started, wearing a mask of calmness, an opposite of the money man dancing inside him. Or the moral high horse gasping in horror at this youthful revolutionary. "That you want me to fund your genetically engineered feline servant industry?"
"Yeah." The boy said, pushing the cat girl gently to the side. "Murdock can make more, but we need a way to get them on the market. Plus, you have a good platform to unite people."
"...Very well. And you think this is worth me potentially getting rid of my workers?"
"I mean yeah, If you wanna do that and have catgirl workers. Just make sure Faunus people aren't fucked over."
"You think I treat my workers poorly?" He questioned, rather affronted at the idea. "Do you not see how I employ them, how I-"
"That's the point, sir." The boy deadpanned at him, and he paused. "You use cheap minority labor to fulfill your quotas, which don't go over well with the public. Taking advantage of Faunus like this will eventually cost you market share and demand for your Dust, since it becomes a political issue." He added. "You have a fairness problem, basically."
Jacques thought about that, and gave a forceful nod.
"So this...business-"
"Yes-"
"This...ELON Industries you bear, is going to solve this…?"
Jaune didn't hesitate like he did. "It will make you be less shitty to poor people, yeah. Because you're going to incorporate catgirls into your system, and you're gonna make sure Faunus people everywhere get fair treatment. You'll become a moral corporation as much as an economic one, and that's how I see this place surviving long term, old man."
"..."
He looked the boy over, and the boy did the same. Which he tired quickly of, and, throwing caution to the wind, Jacques Schnee raised his hand for a shake.
"I...am desperate for security and longevity, Jaune." He admitted, feeling tired in ways he couldn't even describe. "People rally against me everyday, and I simply want to find peace. Will your ELON industries do this for me? Will these catgirls set me free?"
Jaune, after a moment of watching that hand intently, grabbed it nice and tight, giving the older man a grin.
"Yes." He said. "Absolutely. I'll show you the lab and everything."
...Queerly, as Jaques watched Tabby lick her palms clean, he nodded to that. And hoped he hadn't fear mongered himself into financial ruin and moral depravity.
Which, sadly, was a vain hope at that. Jaques sold his inhibitions the second he allowed this foreigner into his home. And now…
He gulped, watching the Arc boy pull away, tenderly manhandling his creation like a child would his sandcastle. All groping hands and little grins. Only the creation droned back, face nothing but nomenclature, but cheeks flushed in totality.
Jacques Schnee raised a hand to his face, and he had to say.
"Never," he told himself, whispering. "Never had I expected an Arc to become a Catgirl Capitalist…"
The boy ignored him, and continued petting his creation, face taut with a flurry of emotions. Excitement, pleasure, anger…
And most of all, determination. It frightened him so.
So before anything:
*No, I wasn't taking any stimulant, narcotic, or anything else inebriating to the system. All you see here was created by a sober mind.
*I'm not planning on continuing this, and'll probably only do so if people want more. This was a shit post idea I've had for months and I really wanted to post it.
*If this will be continued, Jaques isn't going to be a good guy, he's just a means to an end. A memes to an end. I'm hoping on having far too much fun with this, if I ever make a coherent plot line. I'm just happy to get this out.
Anyways, yeah. What y'all think? Is this dumb? Is it too verbose? I dunno.