Taking the shock from a long fall into her knees, Ruby swore at the wet pavement inches from her face. Air scraped through her throat as she grappled for control over her breathing again. Slowly, she stood, taking in the surroundings of where she landed. Returning to what used to be her former home felt like a dream-the bookstore only a mile off Signal's campus, the Vale skyline at night, the nighttime glow of neon against the black sky.
Ruby cast her eyes upon the cheerful city-goers as they carried about their evenings. Some walked dogs, some chatted on their porches. All of them were civilian lives, who were pulled into an all-encompassing war that would reap the earth beneath their homes. If only they knew what was coming for them, Ruby thought.
The sound of a bell chiming against a door frame snapped Ruby back to attention.
She turned just in time to catch the gesture of her cape as her old self walked into the dust shop on that fateful night. It seemed to wave at her, an acknowledgment of what the future promised. What magazines did she look at that night? The July edition of "The Vale Reporter" had just come out, and she wanted to pick up the next publication of "Weapons Monthly" because Signal's policy wouldn't allow her to get a subscription. She wasn't even supposed to be out that late-she skipped curfew knowing that the shopkeep restocks at night to save time.
Most importantly, she remembered why she didn't get either of those magazines. Ruby looked over her shoulder just in time to catch a glimpse of the man she came back for: Roman Torchwick.
He removed his cigarette from his mouth and scowled. Ruby flinched, jerking her hand up in front of her eyes and stumbling out of the way. One of Torchwick's goons shouldered her forward, and she slipped on the wet soles of her worn-down shoes, tumbling to the ground. Ruby braced herself against the pavement, her already sore knees stinging from the impact with the ground. Fighting the urge to stand up and punch whoever pushed her, Ruby kept her eyes locked on the drops of water that gathered at the tip of her nose and splashed against the blacktop.
They chuckled behind her back, probably pointing. Ruby shook, fighting to maintain control over her emotions.
"Let's go, idiots. We don't have all day."
Torchwick.
Ruby had long since forgotten what his voice sounded like. It had been three years since she had last seen Vale like this, so full of life, crime, and a sense of normalcy. Where-or when, perhaps-she came from, there were no broadcasts about the changing events in Vale. It was all the same. Instead of being full of people, soaring buildings, and civilization, it was full of the creatures of Grimm. Her home had long since burned to the ground, and here it was again, erected in all of its metallic, holographic glory.
The bell hanging over the door of her favorite dust shop twinkled again, and Ruby stood, knowing already what would happen next. She brought herself to her feet, covered her eyes from onlookers, and made her way towards Beacon Academy.
The only person who can help you is Roman Torchwick. You remember him, right? You know, people were cheering over the discovery of his charred corpse, even as the last remnants of their city burned to the ground. Isn't it ironic? You killed him that night to "protect the world" or whatever the fuck drives your idiotic hero complex, but now, three years later, Remnant is doomed without him. Do you understand? You're going to be responsible for the end of the world.
Ruby folded the note in the neat creases she pressed into the paper the moment she received it and tucked it into her jacket. She knew, even before receiving this note, that she would have to go back in time, change something. Simultaneously, it all started and ended here, as with all moments in life. She hadn't intended to go this far back, to undo so much of her life and confine herself to a year of solitude, but she realized that she needed to go back to the beginning. Everything was about to change, and this time, Ruby would get it right.
Wrapping her arms around her knees, she settled her eyes on the rolling tide as it crashed against the cliffside. She had one year. One year to save Roman Torchwick's life.
