Save the world? Fuck that, I want to make money! (RWBY SI) ch 8 (Patreon)

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​Leon sat back on his chair, content. His wife made the best lasagna on Remnant and he was willing to fight anyone that said otherwise. 

The family dinner went well. Thanks to R&I keeping him and his fellow workers, they wouldn't starve. A chill ran up his spine as he thought of that. The SDC struggling to repair their rail lines was really starting to hit the market. While he and his wife shopped, it wasn't hard to notice a spike in groceries. Food was already expensive in Atlas, what with it being a literal floating city in the sky. An apple used to cost twenty lien and now, it was twenty-five. Increase of cost for transport, the grocer had said. 

Leon shivered again. Hopefully the SDC got their act together and fully fixed their logistics otherwise, things would get expensive.

​Sheila had already begun taking away the plates for the dishwasher. They weren't exactly poor but that didn't mean his salary wouldn't allow for some luxuries for their little family. He glanced towards his daughter, Louisa, watching something in her scroll. His daughter was twelve, bright-eyed and in school. There were some things she was interested in that Leon struggled to understand but he figured that was eventual. The youth liked new things after all. 

And Louisa was animated.

"Seeing something interesting?" he asked, leaning in. He raised an eyebrow when his daughter failed to reply. He first thought that she was being wilfully disobedient, youngsters tended to be as they reached that age but then, he noticed the ear buds in her ears. And so, Leon cleared his throat and repeated his question. 

​That finally got her attention and with slightly pink cheeks, his daughter smiled sheepishly as she took out her earbuds. "..Yes, dad?" she squeaked. 

He resisted the urge to gush. His girl was cute and he was going to fight anyone who would say otherwise. "You look real animated there, Louisa. What are you looking at?" 

Her eyes brightened quickly. "Oh, it's just a bunch of new videos that's been popping around. They're made by your company, dad." 

Leon raised an eyebrow. "Videos? I didn't know that," he muttered. He was a assembly line worker, not a bigshot executive.

At that, Louisa stood up from her seat and took her place at his side and showed off her scroll. Leon glanced down.

The screen showed off the Royal and Imperial Eagle before it shifted to a overhead shot of Atlas, bright and shining under the light of the moons.

"Remnant...our home," a man's voice began to narrate. The scene shifted once more with each word he spoke.

"Prosperity," A long line of skyscrapers roared up to the sky. It shifted again.

"Liberty and Democracy," The screen then showed off the Council in fierce debate, the Councillors dressed in their finery as numerous citizens clamoured with signs and placards. It then changed to a man, the narrator Leon presumed, waving at his neighbor before he turned around to greet his family. 

"Our way of life," the narrator finished. Leon thought that he surely had a wonderful life. His family was well-fed and warm and didn't have to fear the outside world. The cheery and upbeat tone of the video then changed as the narrator found a shadow looming over his family. The peace was shattered as a Beowolf appeared. The camera shifted to the man falling to his knees in horror as his family screamed. 

​By instinct, Leon's hands curled into a fist. Louisa also came closer to him as well.

"But our way of life...does not come free," the narrator's voice spokeover. Leon had to nod at that. If it weren't for the Grimm...then they all wouldn't be forced to live in walls. The camera turned as the narrator walked on screen, blood-stains still on his clothes. 

"Scenes like that are happening not just in Solitas but also in other continents, right now!" the narrator asserted. Leon could believe that.  

"You could be next," the narrator continued, his eyes certain and expression alive. Leon did not like the sound of that. Then, the screen fizzled. The uncertain music which had plagued the video slowly vanished as a certain tone played. 

"That is unless you made the most important decision of your life!" Leon watched as the narrator clicked his fingers and was suddenly clad in a uniform not too similar to what Alexander Wayland wore. Right behind him, the flag of the Company waved proudly. "Prove to yourself you have the strength and courage to be free!"

The narrator marched forward as a Defender rifle was handed to him. He punched a magazine in and cocked it. With eyes as a hawk, the narrator proclaimed. "Buy...Royal and Imperial!" 

The music swelled, triumphant and glorious. The scene shifted to a squad of R&I armed Frontiersmen letting loose on Grimm with their arms. And the Grimm died with each blast! "Use arms proven and tested since the settlement of Solitas!"

The Frontiersmen all advanced, firing. Grimm were attacking their town, it seemed. The Defender riflemen shot with semi-automatic precision, supported by a man bearing the Buzzsaw machine gun. The scene shifted again to a Ursa Alpha roaring as a squad of Frontiersmen surrounded it. Another man appeared bearing the Deuce and unloading rounds that tore through the Ursa as a scissor would paper. "And defend our homes and our frontiers!" 

"No Dust!" 

The frontiersmen cheered, bumping onto each other, and digging a flagpole of the company down onto Grimm corpses. Each of whom vanished under the fluttering flag of the company. 

"With our Frontier-series arms, you become a HERO!" 

​The narrator walked up to the men, Defender rifle nestled against his shoulder. 

"With our arms, you become a LEGEND!" 

The camera zoomed out, the Frontiersmen victorious, their settlement safe. In the skies, the broken moon loomed. 

"Buy....ROYAL AND IMPERIAL!" 

The screen blackened, the Wayland Eagle fluttering. Louisa quietly paused her scroll, turning towards her father. 

"Can we buy one?" his daughter asked precociously. 

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​Propaganda. 

I love propaganda. And we as a people made good propaganda. It was blatant, it was on-the-nose, but golly, it just swells people just right. A little investment in a struggling entertainment company allowed me to basically put on absolute and utterly nationalistic trash. Personally, I was aware of what sort of monster I was making with R&I about to drop easily accessible firearms but seriously, we were going to make the coolest shit on the planet, God Bless the Company!

My father had at this point trusted my judgement. The board green-light the production of the Frontier series arms and the Bundschuch were our first orders of guns as well as expertise on how to use them. Now, we just needed more customers. 

My ideas for creating an audience were rather unorthodox in his eyes. Essentially, there was no better way to spread propaganda than through soft power means such as movies, video games, and other forms of entertainment. Earth makes good entertainment and I was going to bring it to Remnant and make a big buck on it.

I already had started by co-opting the Helldivers trailer. Now, I was going to get the new Royal and Arms Entertainment to actually make a video game based around Helldivers. To avoid using nationalities, I was going to not use Atlas nor Mantle but have it be Super Remnant as a stand in for Super-Earth, with Grimm as the enemies. The gameplay was to be not to similar to the game and with Royal and Arms weapons as stand-ins. 

As I said before, now was a time of incredible peace and growth for Remnant. The SDC may have started a shit-show with its Dust shortage but people still were making good money. Peace makes a society needing something to do and by golly, I was going to capitalize on that. 

Speaking of capitalize, I was going full echo on anti-Grimm propaganda. R&A Entertainment mission was to make cool-shit and cool-shit it will get. Attack on Titan but against Grimm and set in a pseudo-technological age Remnant, why not? Mass Effect but RWBY-fied? Let's go. The shorts they were uploading on the CCT net was only small fry compared to what I was going to unleash on the unsuspecting masses.

In my hand, I held a paper titled 'Transformers'. Essentially, I had copied the entire 2007 movie but set in Remnant. It shall start with an Atlesian base getting attacked and wiped out then the plot continues on. The humans and faunus here would be much more effective however, Remnant not exactly a pushover when it comes to Technology. 

This was not the end of my plans, however.

And that was how I found myself leaving my script behind in my room and out, fully intent to head over to my father's office. As I stepped outside, a presence came with me. A fluffy hat one. 

​"Good Morning, Land," I greeted. The old man hummed, Matilda hanging against his shoulder.

As I was getting into my work seriously, father had decided I needed a bodyguard for my own security. Land himself decided that he needed a replacement and so, he stepped down from his position and attached himself to me. 

"Mornin, boy," he said, yawning. "Nice commercials, by the way. Very tacky." 

I laughed. "They were meant to be. I envisioned the most blatant, obvious, and utterly unrepentant ads possible." And it was a move to showcase that Royal and Imperial was truly innovating and not shackling itself to sterile and unimaginative language, like the SDC. This was a world with the Color Revolution fresh in people's memories. Expression was core to people's identities. 

"Well, I can't go five minutes without hearing that orchestra score in my head," Land said, rubbing the underside of his chin. "Damn nice tune. I kept on humming it to myself while fighting Grimm. Where did you find the fella who did that?"

​Back at home, Wilbet Roget had made it. But in here, his stand-in did the work. All I did was merely describe what I wanted and he was more than happy to do it down to a tee. Hell, was it actually copyright when your doppelganger made it?

"RIE made it. The composer is very good," I hummed. "And if you thought that was catchy, wait to see what they are cooking." 

I'm remaking Pacific Rim and have Jaegers punch the shit out of massive Grimm. And speaking of Jaegers, I better prepare myself to get to making those.

"Hm," he nodded. "So, what do you want with your father, boy?"

Ignoring his infantilizing language, he was my combat instructor so he had right of way, I cleared my throat. "Entertainment won't be enough to spread our brand across. We need practical results too. I intend to ask my father to let us purchase our own private military company, with the intent of having them test out our kits."

And careful review of the law made it clear. Only huntsmen or registered private forces could field heavy weapons.

Land raised an eyebrow. "We already have our own security forces, Mister Wayland," he pointed out. He was very much correct that we did have our own security forces. 

However...

"Yes but they exist to protect the Foundry. I need a force of able-bodied men and women crazy enough willing to fight Grimm without needing to rehouse them, retrain them, and so on and so forth," I surmised. Our security forces existed as security guards, not actual fighters. Plus, the PMC's I had in mind were going to field our heavy shit to protect towns and such.

Luckily, I had an idea on who to approach. But before that, I needed to get my father to approve of it first. 

His office, we arrived at and I knocked three times as was customary. His voice broke through and bid me to enter. I did so, preparing my pitch. Instead, I found my father seated behind his desk, scroll in hand. I entered, confusion coursing through me as he glanced from the scroll then back to me. 

"Is something wrong?" I asked, stopping before him. At my side, Land took his place, yawning. 

"Not particularly," Gerard Wayland replied. "I was reading reports from the floor managers when I got an interesting email." 

That was his language that we were going to get an order from a important customer. "Oh? Who is it? The Military?" I asked cheekily. 

He rolled his eyes before leaning back. "What do you know of shell companies, Alex?" 

I replied quickly. "Shell companies are used for legit reasons but can be used for tax evasion, tax avoidance, money laundering, or to achieve a specific goal such as anonymity." 

"Well," my dad tapped, expression shifting. "A company called Cambrian Logistics ordered five hundred Defender rifles from us. Normally, I would welcome such a thing but something about the company seemed shifty." He then turned his scroll around, showing to me the logo of a white fish in a orange field. 

My father continued. "It's a small company, roughly ten employees and newly established but its strangely wealthy and the owners are supposedly Atlesians but a background search showed to me that they are a retired couple living in Vale."

Mysterious, I thought. I walked up, sitting on the chairs across him. "So what would a retired couple need five hundred guns for?" My father openly questioned. 

"It isn't for them then." I theorized. My theory was correct as my father nodded. 

"Correct. The previous owners had sold their company to a buyer but the buyer kept them as the owners. The buyer, I found through some digging, is not a human but a faunus. A faunus connected to the Chiefdom of Menagerie." My father revealed. 

My mouth widened slightly before I closed it. 

Menagerie, the nation-state of the Faunus. Unlike the city-states of Remnant, the Faunus had a whole new continent to itself. Located in the South-East of the planet, Menagerie was still totally untapped, uninhabited, and with little to no Grimm to speak of. It did however have terrifying wildlife that even the Grimm ran away from and was supposedly poor of natural resources. It also was a pariah-state. No nation wanted to deal with them, not wanting to openly associate with the victors of the Faunus Rights Revolution. Personally, I was fine with the Faunus revolting as they did. By my reckoning, it was only some fifty years since it had happened. Before that, the Faunus were slaves. 

​The living memory of the half animal folk traded like cattle was still present in most people. 

"What do you think of the Faunus, then?" I asked my father. 

His expression went thoughtful. I thought for a moment that my father, a man who had taught me nobility and duty, would also be a massive gamer. His reply came after some thinking. 

"I can get used to them, I think. Your grandfather loved the cow-ones since they had, y'know," He motioned to his chest. I shook my head as Land snorted.

He then continued. "Regardless, they are a potential customer and we aren't exactly in a good enough position yet to refuse orders. They are offering good money but...I am still conflicted." 

"It's the White Fang, I presume?"

​He crossed his arms, sighing. "Yes, it's the White Fang. They are close to the Menagerie Government. If we sell them our arms, we risk having Royal and Imperial attainted by association." 

That was a valid concern, to be frank. However...

"But that's the nature of arms dealing, right? As soon as our guns leave the product line, it's no longer our responsibility. It's not like we can control who our guns go to," I reasoned. There were methods to make sure our buyers were legit. One, there existed law that we only sold to licensed purchasers such as governments or registered private entities. The Chiefdom of Menagerie itself was indeed a recognized government but...

Faunus. And at this point of time, Fort Castle was still in everyone's mind. 

"I want you to go to Vale," Father suddenly declared. "I want you to follow this trail, see if it is legitimately by their government and not a White Fang front. If it is truly legitimate then I will approve a sale. With one condition." 

And there goes my plan of asking his approval for a mercenary company. I thought about it a little and realized something. If I did pull a deal, this would be good money in the end and my target mercenary company usually operated in Mistral or Vacuo but at the moment, they were in Vale resting. 

I nodded. "Three questions. What are the conditions, what is the extent of my authority, and who is coming with me?" 

My father looked surprised. He probably thought I was going to protest. Shrugging his shoulders, he spoke up. "The faunus must take this order through a clean company, not a shell one. I don't want us to be accused of arms smuggling. Secondly, you are acting as my heir but final decisions must be run by me. Thirdly, Land is going with you." 

I listened impassively then stood a little bit straighter. "Understood. I will be leaving quickly then." 

"Good luck," he said before pausing. "I thought you'd not like to do this task."

I smiled. "I will never say no to money, dad." 

After all. A thousand lien is still a thousand lien, no matter who it came from.

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A/N: Another one today. Eat good, my pretties.