Random note; I know there have been a load of people PMing me about random stuff this month, but as I may have mentioned on other fics, September is my kryptonite due to work. Please don't assume no response is an insult.
I've barely even had the time to look at my own forum. God knows what shipping wars they've gotten up to in my absence.
Cover Art: Jack Wayne
Chapter 29
Alexander Sterling stepped out of the chauffer-driven car and onto the sidewalk, ready to face the day ahead. His tailored suit was in perfect condition, his shoes buffed to shine and his tie in a perfectly even and tightened knot. Freshly shaved and with his hair immaculate, Sterling looked towards his latest expansion onto Walker Street and froze.
The smile, carefully cultivated and practised, slipped from his face.
"Mr Sterling, Mr Sterling!" Lisa Lavender called, approaching with a microphone. The smile on her face might have been better placed on a Shark Grimm mere seconds before it dragged its prey down into the deep. "What comment do you have on the allegations that Café Prime has used its influence and power to bully out smaller competitors?"
"Excuse me…?"
"We have evidence here that you purchased the lot out of a competitor and are forcing them to move. Do you believe these business practises speak to the core values of Café Prime as a brand?" A more provocative question, Lisa Lavender could not have asked. She held the microphone towards him with the clear knowledge anything he'd say would cause a shitstorm.
Alexander coughed and fiddled with the cuffs of his sleeves instead. "I'm afraid I have no knowledge of the comments you speak of. Café Prime is a family-friendly business and has been a staple of Vale's dining and entertainment scene for over thirty years. We take our brand, and our responsibilities, very seriously."
"So, you refute the allegations?"
"Without seeing them, I cannot fully comment at this time," he said, erring on the side of caution. "But the suggestion we would use untoward means to damage a competitor is, with all due respect, absurd. This is a smear campaign and nothing more. Unprovoked and unsubstantiated. I would question the one involved, but they have no doubt kept their identity hidden, as befits cowa-"
"Actually, they haven't," Lisa said. "They've been quite open."
The Arc boy, then. He was playing with things he didn't understand if he thought he could get away with this. Alexander's smile turned both charismatic and cruel. His voice was laced with condescension, and a little sarcasm. "Well, if the person in question wants to discuss these matters with me directly, I'd be more than happy to. We at Café Prime have nothing to hide and, if forced, will not be above bringing the full strength of our legal teams to the fore. We will not take slanderous accusations on our good name."
"You're calling them liars, then?"
"Yes."
"One more question, Mr Sterling," Lisa said – and it was the smile she wore that warned him he'd miscalculated somewhere. Or that she knew something he did not. "How do you expect the SDC will respond to your hard words?"
"E-Excuse me?"
"The SDC," Lisa repeated, as if explaining it to a small child. "It was Weiss Schnee, Heiress to the SDC who made these accusations, after all. It would be the Schnee family you'd be bringing all these legal teams towards."
Alexander Sterling paled.
/-/
Café Prime Crosses the Line.
Café Prime, Coffee with Crime?
When Big Business Goes Bad.
Vale's leading newspapers were having fun with the headlines this morning, Weiss thought, barely hiding her smile as she flitted through each, handing them to Ruby once she was done. Her partner normally avoided newspapers like Yang did a pair of scissors, but today marked an exception. Ruby practically shuddered with delight as she read each article with intense scrutiny.
"Yesss," Ruby murmured. "Yesss…"
"If you start cackling, I'll kick you out the room," Yang warned.
"It's all coming together!"
"Right. You were warned."
Weiss ignored the two siblings as they scuffled and wrestled, Yang being by far the stronger but Ruby biting, kicking and tugging on Yang's hair, proving herself far more vicious. It was a common enough scene that Weiss lifted her coffee cup off the table before two crashed into it and didn't even bat an eye as she sipped at and put it back down on the floor beside her.
"This is fast even for the media," Blake said, taking a seat on the carpet opposite her. "It's been what, two days? I'd have thought it would take them a little longer to start paying attention."
"Jaune has friends in high places, it seems." Weiss considered for a moment. "Or Café Prime has enemies in such. It would not be hard to imagine with how they do things. How is Jaune doing with all of this?"
"I asked Pyrrha earlier who asked Velvet," Blake said. "Apparently, he's mostly in the dark. He's defeated and sluggish, but he never reads the news. He doesn't have the time for it with how early he wakes up. You think we should show him?"
"No. I'd rather have something a little more concrete first. It wouldn't do to get his hopes up. If possible, I don't want to involve him at all. It would look bad on him to get involved."
"Let Café Prime be the ones shouting, arguing and looking like children?" Blake guessed, grinning.
"Exactly."
"I saw Pyrrha and Russel heading out of Beacon together yesterday."
Weiss glanced up. "Do we need to stage an intervention?"
"I don't think so… They were actually chatting. And rubbing their hands together."
Weiss considered that for a moment and considered whether she should be the one to ask whether it was Russel or Pyrrha who had been brainwashed, before, in the end, she decided it wasn't her business to sort that mess out. She had enough problems with her own team. At that moment, Weiss raised her mug off the floor once more, allowing Yang and Ruby to wrestle their way between them once more.
Blake sighed. "Breakfast? Leave them behind?"
"You read my mind."
/-/
"You know, this is what I wanted to avoid," Pyrrha said.
"What?" Russel asked.
"The stares." She indicated some of the pedestrians around them, many of which were looking at Pyrrha with either shock or confusion, usually followed by dawning realisation. This was one of the first times she'd gone out without a hood of some kind and it had only proven her earlier worries accurate. "I hate the way everyone looks at me."
"Why? It's not like they matter."
Pyrrha glanced to her teammate. Her partner, she reminded herself – even if no one could say they'd really been partners to one another since Beacon began. This was their first conversation that had lasted longer than two minutes. Sadly, Russel didn't quite understand, but rather than retreat from the topic and make excuses like she might have, Pyrrha took Coco's advice and forged ahead.
"It's not that I know them or anything. It's that people judge me based on different standards than the average person."
"Like…?"
"Um. Well…" Pyrrha paused. Few people had ever asked her for examples, but Russel didn't sound like he was disparaging her. "Imagine if you got a girlfriend, for instance," she said. "You find a girl you like, ask her out, and she takes you to visit her parents. Everything goes well, and things work out. You start dating."
"And then imagine that you hang out with Cardin and his team a few days later," she continued. "Everyone is there and you, I don't know, go and play in an arcade or eat at a restaurant. It's nothing serious and you're just having fun. However, there's a moment where Nora is in a good mood and hugs you. She hugs everyone, so it's not a big deal."
Russel snorted. "Yeah, I can imagine that. What's the problem?"
"For you, nothing," Pyrrha said. "But for me, and assuming it was a guy, it would be everywhere tomorrow that I was cheating on my boyfriend with someone. People would dig into my life, my boyfriend's life, and then Nora – or Ren's, whoever the counterpart in this example is – and drag their lives into the dirt. Even if it's not real and everyone figures that out, there will be some people online who don't believe it. They'll call me names, but worse – they'll call everyone else names, too. There'd be a good chance my relationship breaks down because reporters are going to my boyfriend's house, or his parents', and there would be anonymous messages, calls, maybe even death threats."
"Death threats? Over dating someone…?"
"It happens," Pyrrha said. "I remember there were rumours I was dating one of my old agents once because I got excited and hugged him. I was underage, and he got called all kinds of things. Even when we proved it was false, his life had been turned upside down. He said it would be better for us both if I found someone else to be my agent." He'd not blamed her, but Pyrrha blamed herself – and those responsible. "That was one of the first times I realised everything I do is watched and judged. Even when he quit, some people – the nasty ones – said it was evidence of guilt. There's no smoke without fire," Pyrrha seethed.
She hated that stupid saying. Of course there could be rumours without fact. Such was the nature of the damn things.
"Shit," Russel said, and Pyrrha was surprised to hear a little shock in his voice. "That's fucking stupid."
"It is." Pyrrha suddenly giggled as she recalled something. "I'm not allowed to swear, either."
"What!?"
"I have family friendly sponsors, Russel. If I was seen swearing, getting angry, drunk, making a fool of myself or anything, I'd be in breach of contract."
"Is that even a big deal? I figured you'd be loaded."
"It's not about the money," she explained. "They can sue me – and again, while I could fight it off, I'd have to take time out of Beacon to attend court. It would disrupt my life. Not to mention it would be all over the news."
"When Champions go Wild?"
Pyrrha snorted and punched Russel's arm. A second later, she flinched, wondering if that was too much, but her teammate simply laughed. A little delighted, Pyrrha shot him a joking scowl. "That was terrible."
"Yeah, yeah. Still, I guess I can see why all these idiots bother you, then." He said it loud. Very loud. And Pyrrha noticed a few passers-by suddenly look away, finding other things to amuse themselves with. One or two even looked embarrassed. "And you like Jaune because he doesn't know anything about it."
"I did, but that changed."
"Oh?"
"I realised how silly that was." Or, well, Coco had drilled it into her skull. "Liking someone for being ignorant doesn't really make sense, since he could just change once he finds out."
"True," Russel said. "He could be worse than any other fan before."
"Yeah." Not that she thought Jaune ever would. "Instead, I realised there were other things I like about him. How hard he works, how dedicated he is, how much he cares for other people." And a few other, non-polite things that she was sure Russel didn't need to hear. Pyrrha was, after all, still a teenage girl.
And Jaune had a fantastic ass. Even Coco agreed on that one. Velvet said it was the tight black pants he wore as part of his uniform. If so, Pyrrha would make sure tight and black was all he ever wore in the future.
"You're blushing," Russel pointed out.
"Ahem!" Pyrrha coughed into her fist. "Yes, well. That's why I have to be careful of things I say and do."
"Right. Well, I can't say I know what it's like, but I figure it's at least a little similar to working at Jaune's." Pyrrha shot him a confused look and he explained. "Whenever we're working there, everything Velvet and I does reflects on him. We have to swallow our own thoughts and feelings and think about what's best for the brand."
"Huh…" Pyrrha considered his words. "I guess that's not so different."
"Just that yours is all the time and ours is at work." Pyrrha nodded, and the two of them continued on in silence for a few minutes. "You gonna be okay with using your fame to help out, then? Not much point us trying if you don't want to."
Pyrrha shook her head. "No, I'll be fine."
"You sure? I don't want to be the asshole here."
"You're not being it, Russel. Café Prime is. I've… I've had to use my name for money, fame and recognition. I'd never used it to help someone I care about before." A tentative smile appeared on her face. "This might even help me feel better about it. At least it'll be for a good cause."
"Getting Jaune to be so grateful he sweeps you off your feet?"
Pyrrha's face shone, "That's not what I-" She glared, noticing his grin. "You're teasing me!"
"Eh. Maybe."
"Idiot." Despite her words, Pyrrha couldn't quite hide her smile, or her embarrassment. A few people were probably watching, and no doubt making up their own assumptions, but Pyrrha ignored them. Somehow, she didn't think Russel would put up with their nonsense. "What are we doing, then?" she asked. "About Café Prime? I take it you have a plan."
"Multiple. How do you feel about finding a rat in one of their drinks?"
"Disgusted. But I doubt they'd do that, and I don't want to do anything illegal or try to fake something that isn't real. They've done enough to Jaune already. We should focus on something they've actually done, not make other things up."
"It was a joke. Look, there are already a load of reporters around Café Prime at the moment, and I figure some are going to head down to Jaune's soon enough. Won't take them long to figure out who the competition is. They're going to take pictures and stuff. All I want is for you to be in them."
"That's it?"
"For now, sure."
"And this'll help Jaune?"
"You're the resident expert on sponsorship," Russel pointed out. "You tell me."
Pyrrha hummed. Sometimes sponsorship really was as simple as being seen to drink a can of soda or favour a certain brand of clothing. If they were trying to prove to the public that Café Prime couldn't compete with Jaune on quality, and thus had to resort to less fair means, then having her present might help push that image. After all, she was Pyrrha Nikos. She could afford to go somewhere way more expensive if she wanted to. That she chose instead to drink at Jaune's would send a clear message.
Champion Coffee for a Champion Competitor. Pyrrha could imagine the tags online already.
"Yeah. I think that'll work."
/-/
Jaune gaped at the various people with cameras and microphones crowding outside the diner. What the hell was going on? Those inside, savouring their meals, stared out with obvious shock. It was a relief no one had yet entered, but they were already blocking access to the entrance. Jaune made to go and see what the problem was before he noticed two people pushing through, Russel and Pyrrha, in fact.
Wait. Didn't they hate one another?
"Hey boss," Russel said once he got inside. "Busy out there."
Jaune's eyes narrowed instantly. There was something about the way Russel said that which hinted he knew more than he was letting on. To Jaune's surprise, however, some of the cameras had stopped flashing in his direction and were instead focused on Pyrrha.
"Might want to serve her," Russel said as he stepped by, reaching for a uniform to take upstairs. "She's not had the best of times."
"I guess I'll get an explanation for all of this later?"
"An explanation for what?"
"You're not very good at the `looking innocent` thing, Russel." Jaune ignored the surprised look on his employee's face – really, he wasn't that oblivious – and made his way over to Pyrrha's table with a smile on his face. It stretched his patience a little that the cameras flashed, but Pyrrha smiled back up at him winningly, looking for all the world like she was used to such occurrences.
"Morning Jaune."
"Morning Pyrrha. What can I get you?"
More flashes, along with some chairs scraping around as people tried to figure out what the hell was going on. Jaune decided to play it professional and continued smiling as he took Pyrrha's order, went to prepare it and then came back, laying down both a cappuccino and a small plate of chocolate cake. Pyrrha smiled again as she accepted it, almost like she was working for the benefit of the photographers more than she was him. She then made a meal – both literally and figuratively – of cutting into her cake, taking a single bite and showing her appreciation.
The cameras flashed again.
Jaune's brow twitched.
The reporters backed away, forming a small semi-circle as Jaune pulled the door open and stepped outside. He was all too aware of how he was now the focus of attention, not just for the journalists but also his own customers. In a way, he felt oddly like a fighter stepping into a ring. Some kind of gladiator about to fight to the death.
It might have been the mental image that caused it, but when someone stabbed a microphone towards him, he almost tried to parry it. He caught himself at the last second, though.
"Mr Arc, Mr Arc, what do you have to say about the rumours Café Prime are buying your building with the express intent of evicting you?"
What!? How did they-? No, it didn't really matter. Maybe this was just another twist of the knife from Sterling. Well, he wouldn't give the bastard and the pleasure of seeing him laid low. "They're not really rumours. I was served the eviction notice yesterday. I have four weeks left. I think I still have it on me, actually." Jaune rummaged in his pocket and brought out a folded piece of paper.
"Could you hold it open for us?" someone shouted. Not seeing a problem, Jaune did so, smiling weakly as cameras flashed.
"Lisa Lavender here," a woman he recognised from the TV called, forcing her way to the front. "Do you have any comment on the heavy-handed methods Café Prime are taking to try and push you out of business?"
"Not really." He wouldn't lash out. It was what Café Prime wanted. "I'm just… I'm trying to make ends meet, you know. I can't really comment on what's wrong or not. I have to focus on doing the best I can, so I can stay in business."
"Do you have a new venue yet?" someone else asked.
"Not yet. I… This came as a bit of a shock. I've barely had the time to process it, let alone try and look for somewhere new to set up."
"Do you have anything to say on Miss Schnee's comments?"
"Weiss? Why, what's she said?" He shook his head, ignoring the sudden surprise – and glee – some seemed to show at his using Weiss' first name. "Actually, it doesn't matter. Weiss is a valued customer and a friend, like everyone else who comes here. I don't think I should be talking about her behind her back, and I hope this won't sound rude, but I do need you all to make some space. No one can get in."
There were a few more pictures, lights flashing brightly, but the crowd did begin to disperse, many huddling together and looking at their shots, and others pulling out scrolls or even portable terminals to start typing away on like their lives depended on it. Everything was going insane, it seemed. He'd entered the twilight zone.
When Jaune came back inside, he was faced with generous applause from the patrons, along with a few cheers and whistles.
Face red, but smiling at their innocent teasing, Jaune took a deep bow.
/-/
Roman sighed as he accepted another drink in a private booth at Junior's club. Neo sat beside him, glaring down at her non-Jaune coffee balefully. She pouted and took a drink, sticking her tongue out a moment later but eventually finishing it.
"I know, Neo, I know," Roman said. "But the last thing he needs now is for some nosey journalist to spot us as customers. He'd be dragged through the wringer."
Neo shot him a look that suggested she knew that and was irritated he thought her stupid enough not to. It didn't stop her pushing the now empty cup away with a heavy sigh. Really, he spoiled her too much, but then again it was nice to have someone to spoil.
Maybe I'm getting soft in my old age, he thought with a little chuckle. He wondered if that was why he was so fond with Jaune. Maybe. The kid reminded him of himself in a way, at least in having nothing but his wits and his hard work. Their paths differed. Drastically, some might say. Roman didn't think so, but he didn't care enough to change any minds. Back when he'd started out, the criminal gangs and families ruled and there wasn't much room for an up and coming thief with a flair for the dramatics.
People had tried to shut him down, too. Often violently.
He'd survived.
Would Jaune? Hard to say. Ironically, the underworld often felt a fairer place. At least you could run away from those stronger than you. Hide, gather your strength and strike back when they least expected it. In the world of business, the small and the weak were forced to sit there and take it, often being ground into dust by those who simply had more money.
No one could lock Roman in a court battle until he run out of funds, after all. Jaune didn't have the same safety net.
But he had them. Him, Neo, Junior and his girls.
That would have to do.
The door to the booth opened. One of Junior's men stood there but didn't enter. "She's here, sir," he said. "Shall I let her in?"
"No. Stand there and waste both our time. Of course you should let her in."
The mook bowed his head apologetically and stepped out of the way, letting a short-haired woman in a navy business suit into the booth. Few would have expected to see someone so well-known here, let alone meeting with a wanted criminal, but there were very good reasons for why Roman Torchwick and Lisa Lavender were on a first name basis.
For one, he made for good stories, and occasionally he wanted something to be seen and a little tip off to the press was required. Lisa benefited, he benefited, and Vale even got a chance to catch him if they were quick enough. No harm done. Of course, Lisa would never help him actually commit a crime, but reporting on it was fair game.
And, of course, there were other reasons. Roman wasn't ashamed to admit he was a celebrity of sorts, not to mention theGentleman Thief. He wasn't above playing to his bad boy status occasionally and when Lisa mentioned being curious one time. Well, they'd had a different kind of fun in one of these booths. Not that he expected that today. He certainly wouldn't keep Neo here if he did.
"Lisa."
"Roman," she said, nodding back. "I didn't expect to get a message from you today, certainly not that you know something about the coffee case I'm working on." She smirked. "Don't tell me you're about to open your own chain. That would certainly be a story for the ages."
"I'm afraid not. Torchwick Cappuccinos is a marvel Vale will sadly have to do without."
"Shame." She took a seat opposite him, eyeing Neo curiously but not asking about her. "So, what do you have for me?"
Roman pushed a plastic folder across the table. "There was an attack on the kid's diner a while back. I learned of it because the kid is in a friend's territory and pays his protection. My friend asked me to track those responsible down and teach them the error of their ways."
"Are we working in hypotheticals or do you expect me not to know this `friend` is Hei Xiong? It's not exactly subtle when we're meeting here and Jaune's is obviously in his territory."
Roman grinned. "Now, now. I'm an insecure man. Let me have my `a friend that totally isn't me` moment."
Lisa rolled her eyes. "Insecure? You? Sure. I'll pretend I believe that."
"Thank you. So, we tracked down those responsible, reminded them of why boundaries matter and sent them on their way." Some to the afterlife, he didn't say. "But while we were at it, I decided to figure out exactly who organised it. You know, make sure there aren't any nasty surprises we have to wait for."
"Hm. The less detail there the better, please. I don't want to be complicit in anything too bad."
"Sure, sure. You just want to profit from it."
Lisa's eyes narrowed. "Dangerous lines, Roman. Don't make me run a story on how you're sleeping with an underage girl."
She would and all. Roman laughed. "One, she's not underage – and yes, I know, you wouldn't think it to look at her." Roman ignored Neo's stuck out tongue. "Secondly, we're not sleeping with one another. But thirdly, fine. I'll let it go. Details are all in here but they're not exactly watertight. Not yet."
"Hm." Lisa took the folder but didn't open it. "I take it I'm supposed to do the rest of it myself. Ugh. Fine. I have a couple of interns who owe me favours."
"You might want to handle this one on your own, Lisa."
"Yeah? What makes you say that?"
"Because the attack on the kid's diner wasn't to steal anything specific. It was to cause criminal damage and scare him off. And it was ordered by someone else."
"Who?"
Roman cocked an eyebrow.
Lisa's jaw fell open. "No way."
"I wouldn't dare to say," Roman teased, lighting a cigar.
"No, no, no, you don't get to suggest what I think you're suggesting and then play it cool. You are saying what I think you're saying. Right?"
"Maybe I am, maybe I'm-"
"Argh!" Lisa ignored him and tore open the folder, fanning documents out and scouring through them quickly. When the low lighting in the booth proved insufficient, she pulled out her scroll and held it over the papers, using the torch function.
After a minute or two of mumbling as she read, Lisa Lavender began to laugh.
"My work is done," Roman said, standing. He passed by Lisa and patted her shoulder as he went, not that she noticed. She was too busy laughing like she'd gone insane. "See you around, Lisa. I look forward to seeing your headline."
/-/
"I want him out!"
"Mr Sterling, it's not that simple. There are procedures in place-"
"Don't tell me what we can and can't do," Alexander Sterling snapped. "I want legal letters, threats, whatever. Tell him we're demolishing the fucking building and he has to be out in two weeks instead of four. I don't care what has to be done."
"Sir, something like that wouldn't hold up in court."
"It doesn't have to hold up. He can't afford to challenge it. I want him swamped in letters, each one demanding a response. If he has a lawyer on retainer, it'll cost him an arm and a leg just to keep up. Keep pressuring him. Money isn't an issue here."
"A-Alright, sir." The Solicitor took a note. "We might be able to challenge him on the renovations he did. Those weren't just repairs from the damage he took – he changed the way the place looked. Without planning permission, I'd imagine. We can argue they weren't sanctioned by the previous owners, and certainly not by us."
Sterling nodded. "Do it. I'll talk to the Local Council and see if we can't press charges. In the meanwhile, I want you to go through every clause he signed on taking that place on. I want a list on my desk – and another list dictating any clause we can conceivably catch him out on or force him to void. We only need one to come down hard and force him out."
The Solicitor looked up, "Won't that play into the media's hands, sir?"
"Like that matters. The public will whine and moan, but no one will care enough to do anything; it's happened before, and it'll happen again. I give it a month before it's forgotten and buried. The Vytal Festival will be all people care about in six weeks' time, anyway." Sterling rolled his eyes. "If I need to, I'll find someone to take the fall. Pay 'em off or serve an NDA. They won't dare talk." He considered for a second. "While we're at it, see if we can't slap an NDA on the bastard. It won't shut the Schnee bitch up, but it'll keep him from talking."
"I might be able to swing it, sir. If we serve him for libel tomorrow, I can probably swing an injunction on him offering any comment lest he sway the case."
"Won't it take time to get an injunction?"
"It will, but he won't know that. If I phrase a letter to make it clear he is to say nothing or face additional charges, he'll almost certainly accept it as fact."
"Perfect. Get it done."
Sterling smiled and excused himself, content to let the legal team get to work. He might have felt some sympathy for the boy, but he'd been given chance after chance to sell up. He only had himself to blame for being a stubborn brat. Calling his name and the brand into question with this latest campaign? That was a line crossed. He'd see the idiot buried under the weight of his ire. He'd see his business crushed, his name driven into the mud and, if possible, everything he owned repossessed. It would send a clear message to any other uppity brats who tried to take his place.
"I think you'll find, Mr Arc, that Alexander Sterling does not lose."
/-/
Far away in Atlas, Jacques Schnee reclined in an expensive office chair and sipped of a small glass of brandy. His eyes drifted shut, enjoying for a moment the peaceful feeling of profit without incident, before the buzzer on his desk cruelly interrupted the moment. Reaching over with a sigh, he pushed the red button.
"What is it?"
"It's something you should see, sir," the voice of his secretary came through. "With regards to Weiss. Your daughter."
Jacques rolled his eyes. As if the latter was needed; what kind of a fool did she take him for as to forget who his own child was? "Come in, then," he said, rolling his eyes. The door opened a moment later and the hawkish woman entered. She was neither an attractive nor an overly efficient woman, but she had a face and personality that intimidated many, and for that she filled his needs perfectly. No one dared bother her, and by extension him, unless there was no other choice.
She saved him hours in pointless and petty meetings with employees and managers that should be solving their problems themselves. For that, he kept her on. He couldn't remember her name, though.
"Sir," she greeted.
"Hm." He grunted, refusing to ask or suggest anything. He saw a newspaper in her hand. "Bring it here, then. What is it my daughter has gotten up to this time?"
"Nothing bad on her end for once, sir."
"Oh?" Jacques accepted the newspaper – the Daily Vale – and opened it up. "Vale's Culture Ruined by Rampant Immigration," he read aloud. Jacques paused. "Does Vale even have a culture? It's possibly the most vanilla Kingdom I've ever visited."
"The, um, second story, sir. And no, you're probably right…"
"Ah, yes." Jacques read a little further. "Spokesperson from Café Prime calls Schnee heiress Weiss Schnee coward and liar. Threatens Schnee family with libel action." Jacques nodded and gently folded the newspaper in two, placing it down evenly on his desk.
He then reached for his glass and brought it to his lips, savouring the taste of his brandy for a long moment and letting out a contented sigh.
"Tell me, did a coffee peddler just insult the Schnee family?"
"I believe so, sir. Both your daughter and… well, the Schnee name itself."
"I see." The glass was gently placed down. Jacques linked his hands over his chest, leaned back and smiled. "I suppose it would be rude not to respond, wouldn't it?" Jacques chuckled as his secretary nodded and excused herself, already on the way to contact and call a meeting with the SDC's numerous legal and PR teams. A strange sense of nostalgia came over Jacques, making him smile.
It had been a while since he'd had the chance to thoroughly focus his ire on another company and make them regret the moment they had ever crossed him.
Perhaps he'd send a thank you card to Weiss for so thoughtful a gift.
"A Schnee does not take such insults lightly."
Real Life Business Lesson: There is always a bigger fish.
Or alternatively, be careful of the toes you step on today, for they may be attached to the feet you need to kiss tomorrow.
Wait, and what's this? A fic in which Jacques Schnee is being portrayed in a good light? FAKE NEWS! Oh, and the "immigration joke" in the last segment is obviously not a joke against that, but rather at a fairly well-known and cringe-worthy newspaper in the UK.
P a treon . com (slash) Coeur