Hey, readers! This is my first fanfic ever, so – please – constructive criticism only. I would really appreciate some tips on where I went wrong.
Update: 15/4 - minor grammatical errors and names
Looking back, Ruby was aware of the many mistakes she had made. Not cutting Fall down when she had the chance. Not kissing that beautiful Snow Angel, back when she remained among the living. Letting the Kingdoms of Remnant to fall to Salem's twisted scheme. Becoming the last of her kind – becoming the Last Huntress.
But, when all's said and done, they had died fighting for what they believed; for their friends, their family.
And now, here she stood; among the broken walls of Beacon Academy. It was almost poetic, what with this being where it all began. Well, if she was being totally correct, it all began about 50 miles east of here, where the original clash between Ozpin – may he rest in peace – and Salem – may her soul burn – took place.
It wasn't an awe-inspiring sight, not any-more – the stone paths were cracked and overgrown with most, the remaining walls were crumbling and the very life seemed to have been drained from the air.
All that remained was a flat, featureless court for her to – finally – indulge in some petty revenge.
All that remained was Roman Torchwick - he of the ridiculous, dyed eyebrows.
A major problem with fighting 'The Gentleman' is that he knew when a situation was untenable. He knew when he was beat, when he could fight no longer. And so, because of this damnable trait, the man had always managed to escape.
It made him a royal pain to fight.
Now, as a wielder of what is quite possibly the most dangerous weapon ever designed, Ruby far outclassed her opponent; a mere flare gun, though it was a powerful one, at that, was all he held.
Of the two, Torchwick was merely more sly, plain and simple.
But slyness can only take you so far; as sheer, monstrous strength would overpower the most cunning, if used wisely. And oh, how wise Ruby had grown over the years of this war.
The fight barely lasted a minute. He may have grown stronger in the past dozen or-so years but he never had the skill – nor the latent ability – to match the Crimson Harvest.
Ruby took particular satisfaction in replacing the majority of his torso with a 5-foot-long, highly serrated blade. For such a large weapon, it was truly a work of art; though it lacks the … finesse … of Harbinger, her uncle's own scythe.
Seeing his lifeless corpse fall to the ground, she failed miserably at not almost manic grin split her face; though it was pure, inescapable sorrow that darkened her eyes, no longer shining silver.
Now there was only one thing left to do – now that Salem's plot had torn apart and an actual era of peace ushered in, there was no place in this new Remnant for a veteran, a weapon of war, such as herself. Knowing this, she calmly collapsed Crescent Rose into its rifle form, pressed the barrel to her chin, and pulled the trigger.
Her beloved rifle gave one last roar, one last salute to its creator, before falling silent, and it's legendary wielder knew no more.
The next morning, when the citizens of Vale found the two bodies they weren't even surprised to find that, even in death, Ruby Rose would stand tall, never falling.