RWBY and Castlevania aren't mine.
I woke up one day and saw someone had actually decided to follow my old Fanfiction stuff and though I'd give it a stab as a fun nostalgic project. It's been a hot minute since I've written any Fanfiction stuff, and I banged this chapter out on a coffee break while not having watched RWBY for like two years. If you enjoy or hate this, please do feel free to review and send feedback. Any sort of it is appreciated.
Ruby knew she was young, as the fact seemed to be constantly dumped on her every single day. The other seniors at Signal had first thought she was lost when she had entered the classroom, asking her if she was another bumbling doe-eyed freshman.
She was always the one staying back at home while Yang went romping around Vale at night, as she would pout at Yang and she would tousle her hair and bribe her obedience with cookies.
Even uncle Qrow's favorite nickname for her, "pipsqueak", constantly reminding her about how she would have to climb on the drawers in order to reach the kitchen countertop when she was younger. She'd always ended up trying to fruitlessly clasp her hands over his whiskey-rotted mouth, trying to stop the drunken barrage of embarrassment.
Any other person have found these events infuriating, maybe even something to be insecure about. Ruby knew that she was a tad bit awkward, having the ability to make her classmates' eyes glaze over as she went through her chipper rants on weapons and Dust for what seemed hours. Ruby knew that large crowds made her uncomfortable, that the prying eyes and rumble made her knees go weak.
She was, after all, a young teenager. And even if she wasn't aware of it, she had a lot more growing to do. But through all of this, there was one thing that Ruby knew most of all, the one thing that kept her centered, the one thing that she could rely on and the thing she knew even more about than weapons.
Ruby knew how to fight.
She swept across the shop in a flurry, scythe drawn as she pounced. Crescent Rose, her pride and joy, slammed into the hapless robber who found himself thrown through window into the night street.
To any passerby, the grace through which Ruby Rose moved through the battle made it all seem like a dance. She twirled her scythe like a baton, as she began to pick up steam. These robbers were small time, villains from Saturday morning cartoons who feel like cardboard cutouts. And she was the hero who came into frame at the last moment, saving the day.
So like any good hero, she made sure to keep her eye out for the main villain, the mastermind of the heist. Her eyes swept over the shop as she deftly dodged the hail of bullets, using the momentum to swing Crescent Rose over her shoulders and send another goon crashing through the store's front door.
She spotted the shop owner, the man with the ridiculous hat, and then whoever had just come through the door. A tall, gaunt and pale man, somebody who looked like the epitome of the mustache twirling villain in her books, who stood behind the waves of goons approaching her.
And in those eyes, she saw them widen with what seemed like surprise. She then felt a smile creep into her face, and lunged at the villain.
Trevor didn't think it was any easy feat to surprise him. He had stood side by side of men and women of eld, in battles now commemorated in myths and legends. He had drunk deep from the bloodied remains of his enemies, a creature of the night defending humanity's shadow.
And he had fought against his father, the Lord of Darkness, and triumphed. He had fought, lived, and died through the countless unbelievable tales that made up his life.
But couldn't quite recall the last time he had ever seen a small child with a scythe taller than her charge at him.
His surprised was short lived, as the girl swung at him with surprising dexterity. Instincts and reflexes hardwired through decades of combat made him duck, then hopping backwards as another blow cracked the doorway he had stood in seconds ago.
From this diminutive exchange, he could tell that this girl was not to be easily toyed with. Her youthful appearance was betrayed by the way she leapt into the street, holding her scythe as if it was an extension of her body.
He narrowed his eyes, maintaining his distance as the girl seemed to size him up as they both circled each other. The girl was wearing a red hood, obscuring her face. And as things stood, Trevor was much more interested in keeping his eyes on the scythe.
Feelings of fascination and revulsion rose from within him. The child was clearly skilled, and even experienced warriors would have difficulties handling a weapon such as hers. But what kind of world had he returned to, one in which children were bred and trained for battle?
Unpleasant memories of his own training and youth rose up as quickly as he quashed them. There would be time for learning later, right now he needed to observe the situation and figure out what was going on. And considering he wasn't the kind of creature to raise a blade towards a child, he needed to focus on his defense too.
He noticed the multiple men staggering out from the store, bodies weighed down by their wounds and what seemed to be like bags laden with Dust and crystals. They seemed content in letting the girl distract herself with Trevor, as they made out with their prize from the broken windows and doors.
One of them who probably was the ringleader, sucked on his cigar and gave him an infuriatingly smug grin as they hustled out of there towards the rooftops. Trevor stepped towards him, but the girl matched his step as she hefted the scythe.
Who was she? The others had the air of bandits around them, with how they skittered towards the shadows like rats fleeing from a cat. They had clearly been in the shop to steal Dust, but he couldn't quite draw a bead on this one.
She clearly wasn't an accomplice, as it seemed he had barged into the middle of a fight between her and the bandits. Was she competing against them for the goods? Or was there something else at play here?
She had now taken a step back and shifted her grip on the scythe. Trevor eyed her warily as they both stood their ground, as she snaked her finger into what seemed to be a trigger alongside the handle.
Trevor was no stranger to mankind's ability to advance and to evolve. Throughout his life, he had seen how they fought against a world that seemed to bear down on them through every waking moment. So he wasn't surprised when the girl pulled on the trigger, and the otherwise quiet night was shattered by what sounded like an explosion.
A plume of acrid smoke and fire blossomed from the hole at the crux of the scythe, and something whizzed past his chest as he managed to sidestep the incoming object. He then snapped upwards in a leap, twirling in the air before landing on his feet as the weapon released another salvo.
And for the second time tonight, the child surprised him once more.
He then managed to look up as he heard another sharp crack, before barely ducking under the incoming blade that suddenly swung towards him. He blinked as it took him a second to realize what had happened. The girl, as ridiculous as it sounded, has somehow used the momentum of the weapon's fire to launch herself towards him.
The blade barely passed some inches from his face, as he managed to catch glimpse the youthful face behind the blade. Messy reddish-black hair, a small nose, and what Trevor could swear was a confident smile. And the silver eyes that stared back at him.
Trevor's eyes widened in response, as he stood upright and disengaged with quick deft steps. He then narrowed his focus on the girl, as she landed from her attack, hood down to her shoulders as the dust settled.
And then the girl brought her scythe down, in what was a comically overblown pose. She then pointed at him, silver eyes gleaming and in a squeaky voice trying it's best to do a baritone she proclaimed loudly, "There's no escaping, villain! Prepare to meet justice!" And in doing so, she suddenly transformed into a torrent of roses as she charged.
Trevor processed all of this, child soldiers, delusions of grandeur, petty crime, and the silver eyes that were usually accompanied by those who kept surprising him, for better or for worse.
He felt a wave of familiar irritation wash over him, as he grumbled under his breath while he prepared to dodge. Some of the clues had clicked together in his mind, and an unpleasant image had formed. All of this reeked of the flair for the dramatic that a certain someone was so fond of, a name that escaped from his mouth in a sigh.
"I see you've kept busy, Ozma."
And so Trevor Belmont, vampire hunter, wielder of the Crissaegrim, creature of the night, legendary warrior, and son of Dracula, groaned as a child ran at him with a particularly sharp scythe.
Also fun fact, this was not based off of the excellent Castlevania Netflix show, rather on the Lords of Shadow./Mirror of Fate storyline. Which will explain why Alucard is actually Trevor Belmont in this story. And Ruby might be a little OOC, I'm not sure it's been a long while since I've watched RWBY. If people are interested, I'll actually take time to revise stuff and to continue.