Act 0 - Prologue

If people know about her family, many would wonder on how it actually works.

For one, her father and Summer are a very odd couple. That everyone who is not familiar with both or either one of them would not peg them as husband and wife.

Taiyang Xiao Long, as many people have known him, is very strict and methodological, always following the code written by who knows what great-great-great grand something they have. Always too absorbed on following the rules and attending on his huntsman student to make his time with his family.

Not that he doesn't love them. Yang can't explain it, but she knows that her father cared deeply about his family.

Then there's Summer.

It's not a secret to Yang that Summer is not her real mother. One accidental eavesdrop and suddenly everything started to not make sense. Well, at the start that is. Yang learned to accept that even if Summer isn't related to her by blood, she is still her mother. Especially because she acted like the best one a girl can have.

But, back to the point. Summer is a weird case of self-absorbed, dramatic, carefree hyperactivity. She, along with being a huntsman, is also a self-proclaimed artist. Always dancing and singing and acting while making little to no sense. Well, except for Ruby. The girl, for some reason, becomes very attached to their mother's hobby. Even make her own version of it.

Hell, Ruby even told her one night that she wanted to be a huntsman not actually to become a hero, but to be like Summer; 'someone who would set the stage for the heroes to perform their best'. Yang wanted to joke back then that what Ruby is describing is either a playwright or a theatre director, both too far from being a huntsman. But her sister's too happy face stopped her on her tracks.

And speaking of Ruby. The girl who was always bullied at class for being 'unsettling. Always alone, laughing and doing something by herself, that's what the teachers have told her and Taiyang about Ruby when they demanded for answers back then. Yang would have go on there and then to beat the hell out of those insensitive assholes, but the redhead herself have solved her problem before Yang could act.

Yang asked how, but her little sister would not tell her.

And beside the redhead's general avoidance of social contact, there is also some of her habits. Habits that even Yang's best of friends would call weird.

Sure, she knows that something is not right with the little ball of hyperactivity that she called her sister.

No, not Ruby's tendency to act all self-centered. That's normal for a teenager, and Yang admits that she is guilty of that herself sometimes. Well, not sometimes, but the point still stands.

Not her lack of empathy towards other people. She might have that kind of social behaviour before, but Summer scolded her and told her about that weird 'all people can become actors, and even if they are not, you can always treat them as your audience' speech. Now she can act as normal as a shy girl would. But Yang knew it was all fake, that Ruby herself still didn't a single feel things as she smiled and laughed with her friends and family.

And no, and not her weird obsession to art. Her little sister might have a skewed perception of what 'art' is, as she once splattered the yard with the corpse of a stray animal and called it a painting. But that's normal for a girl, probably.

And definitely not her sister's grandeur delusion of a performance. That one should be blamed on Summer, being both a huntsman and a self-proclaimed artist slash performer.

Ok, maybe all of them are not normal to say. But Ruby is still her sister, and no weird obsessions and quirks would stop her from being that. Hell, she would still love Ruby even if she suddenly becomes a gun maniac.

So, Yang concluded; Ruby Rose, is a normal teenager.

And then there she is to complete the family. Too be honest, Yang herself can't describe herself except for being enthusiastic. And maybe a black sheep, considering her little act of rebellion. She would never consider becoming the inheritor of her father's school of boring traditions, let alone join it. And still, if someone compared Yang to her parents and her little sister, she herself doesn't bring anything new or unique to their family dynamic.

But even if people said that their family is not one of the normal ones out there, she would just ignore them.

Because aside from her desire to know why her real mother left her and her dad, she would not ask for a more perfect family than what she already have.

Yes, a perfect family. Until that one tragic day.

Yang was devastated back then, Summer loved her like how a mother should love a child. She was the best mother to both her and Ruby. And definitely the better wife that her father have.

Taiyang was also in a mess, too blind to his mourning even with his prided skills of being too observant, he did not see nor even look as one of his daughter slowly changed towards a darker path. But Yang can't blame him. She knows that he was too devastated back then. Too deep in mourning, that even years later, he never recovered.

But the worst of them is Ruby. She is already treating her mother as a crutch, as her own icon of what she should be. For Ruby, losing her probably felt like losing your whole world.

Too devastated, that Ruby herself, for the first time in her life, showed a face full of genuine emotions.

For that whole day, Yang never let go of her crying sister.

So when Ruby's crying stopped, and the girl lies sleeping on her shoulder, Yang knew something have gone completely wrong.

It was the first time she have seen her sister show any kind of feelings.

Yang felt like filth. It is the first time her sister felt like a normal human being, but all she can feel about that is nothing but a crawling sense of dread.

Several years later.

The thundering sound of an electric guitar boomed, the darkened heavens above crashing forth as thunder befell the desolated earth. Each drumbeat a thunderclap in the coordinated chaos, and each word a melody filled with pure emotions.

A symphony of hope and despair.

And standing in its middle is Ruby Rose.

She admit, the unfocused brutality of the sound that is metal is never really to her taste. Only the otherworldly harmony of an orchestra, perfected and synchronized in its best, is what Ruby would consider as 'true' music.

But for some reason yet known to her, she just one day suddenly found herself chained to the sound of the harshness of a certain song. A certain song she is currently playing on her headphones.

A tap.

Which is now being ruined by a no-named nobody.

Ruby pause the player before looking behind her, annoyance painted on her face as she observe the tall man trying to talk to her. Black shades, black hat, and an irritating black tuxedo to complete the dull set. She would have mistaken the man as a shady business owner looking for a quick scam victim, if not for the sword he is currently holding.

That just makes him a glorified thug with an abominable sense of fashion, which is actually worse.

"Your hands. Raise them." The low-life commanded. Shouted with enough force and conviction to make a normal person consider if their life is worth their lien.

An epitome of the evil henchman slash cannon-fodder trope.

Boring, but Ruby Rose can make him shine.

"Are you deaf? I said raise them!" The thug repeated, raising his blade and pointing it at the girl's face.

You can't be more clichéd than that.

"Are you, perhaps, robbing me?" Ruby said, each word phrased in a sing-song way, while intentionally making her question as mockingly as possible.

The thug snarled, but stepped back to keep his distance. Just close enough that the sword is still within range of attack, but far enough towards a safe retreat when things escalate.

Ruby let out an exaggerated act of surprise- "So the faceless extra have a bit of brain." –before smiling a predatory grin. "Who would have guessed?"

First, the opening act.

The thug remained open-mouthed, shock clear on his face. But he quickly regained his composition, screaming a profanity before lashing out in with a vertical swing with his sword.

Now, time for the dance.

Ruby followed, observing the wielder and the weapon at the same time. Intended to hit the head using the sword's back-edge. Aimed for a disabling blow, but with enough brute force to accidentally crack a skull.

Maybe too much brute force, that all sense of coordination was forgotten. And to an actor, it is nothing more but a predictable piece of the script.

Ruby can already see how she can stop the man's poor attempt of a dance, vulnerabilities and openings metaphorically appearing by the hundreds. Lacking all the grace and elegance of a dancer, too fitting for a no-named extra.

But ending the dance there and then would be inelegant. Too barbaric.

And so, Ruby grabbed at her back. Feeling the cold metal as her fingers take hold of her masterpiece.

The blade sailed, hitting nothing but air as Ruby side-stepped the too predictable motion. Continuing with fluid grace, she raised the gun and took aim even before the man become aware that he has missed his swing.

'Breath in. Let the anticipation fill your soul.'

Time have metaphorically stopped to a crawl, as Ruby contemplated on what she is about to do. The first time she will use her weapon against another human. She should be feeling uncertainty, a sense of dread that what she would be doing is wrong, inhumane. She felt no such thing.

"Art requires a certain cruelty"

She only felt ecstasy.

She pulled the trigger, the first shot filling the shop with the deafening sound of thunder. The man screamed, probably from the pain of his aura breaking against an almost point blank impact from a bullet.

If Ruby remembered correctly, she is just using those custom made bean-bag rounds her sister insisted for her to use. Well, hopefully.

The thug stumbled, collapsing from the weight of his right leg. But even before he can even instinctively grab at his now bleeding leg, Ruby aimed for the next shot. The revolver's cylinder rotated, opening the stage for the second act.

Two!

The bullet hammered itself on his sword hand, eliciting another pained scream from the man as he dropped his weapon to the ground. He fell on his back, fear filled eyes looking directly at the now standing girl in front of him.

"Is this, the extent of your talent!?" Ruby Rose asked, a tint of disappointment on her voice. The dance only lasted for about three to four seconds, a complete rush job for the girl.

She approached the now crying man, quickly unloading the third shot at his left leg, only so that he can't ruin the final act.

One last pull of the hammer, the sound of the cylinder locking the fourth bullet a melody to the girl's ear. Bliss filled her, the silence of the crowds deafening as the play neared its finale.

Ruby took one last look at her art, the bleeding man looking at her with fear and finality in his eyes. He is saying something, shouting to be more precise. But Ruby cannot hear them, nor bother to care, only one thing matter for her now.

One last bullet, one last shot, and the show will end in a thundering applause.

The girl smiled.

"Be glad. You will now learn what beauty truly is."

Ruby raised her gun, aiming for the man's head. But before Ruby can finally paint the world in brilliance, another gunshot rang throughout the shop, blowing a chunk of wood as a bullet hit the bookshelf next to her. Another one quickly followed, pain blossoming on her as the bullet hit her aura head-on, the bright red glow of the aura flickering to its almost depletion. Ducking behind the shelves, Ruby cursed as three more bullets hammered uncomfortably close to her location.

"What are you standing there for? Get that psychopath!" A male yelled from the front of the shop. Ruby didn't saw who said that, but given the commanding tone of the speaker, he's obviously the ringleader of this little act of robbery.

Ruby cursed yet again, the unexpected twist has almost ruined her performance. She should have expected that. Every show has their nosy critics, degenerates who have no appreciation of art.

Ruby almost jump outside her cover to put a hole to the ungrateful bastard who dared meddle in her script, before forcing herself to remain on her position.

No, the fourth should be of perfection.

Three sets of footstep, coming from two different directions. A poor attempt of a synchronized dance. Like cubs trying to surround a bear, useless.

Ruby sheathed her gun, before grabbing at one of the cylinder at her belt. A simple device of her own design, a four stage explosive that can detonate on contact with a foreign aura before bouncing again, its intent to elicit a dance.

It should be fired from a complex mechanism, from the greater part of her gun. But no, she will only bring and use that on what she deemed a perfect performance. But now, imperfect as it is, this pseudo dance will suffice for the girl to show her art.

Ruby waited for the three other people to appear from behind the bookshelves, before activating her semblance, quickly throwing the dancing grenade towards the general location of the single set of footstep. The grenade soared true, rose petals trailing from its path before hitting the torso of the first thug to appear.

The grenade detonated on impact, releasing a bright crimson light before exploding in a banquet of fire. It bounced its first, sailing from the shockwave and hitting a dust pipe before waltzing past Ruby's shoulder towards her unseen back.

Two detonations followed, and then come the beautiful music that is their loud screams of pain.

When the screaming ended and the pained sobbing started, the girl turned around, only to find the still active grenade rolling before completely halting at the tip of her shoes.

Ruby frowned, the grenade failed to detonate its fourth.

Walking toward it, Ruby kicked her disappointment of an invention, the grenade hitting the wall behind the two lying thugs before bouncing yet again.

Something nearby exploded.

Ruby looked towards her left, the now mangled form of the first thug scattered on the once alabaster floor of the establishment. His right leg now a bloodied stump, most likely where the grenade have hit him, as parts of it-

The crimson of life painting the floor, the walls, the shelves. Each drawn without elegance, its primordial beauty a radiant color on a monochromatic-

-The store owner screamed. An irritating noise that distracted Ruby away from her trance. Interrupting her enough for the girl to think about putting him to sleep. She can improvise, and she still have the fourth shot for the finale. A scenario of betrayal would suffice for a drama.

Ruby almost aimed at the balding old man-

"The world is cruel, it doesn't have to be ugly."

-But instead, she looked at the now empty shop, before cursing. She have forgotten about the last man.

Running towards the front exit where the supposed leader makes his run, Ruby stepped on something wet, ignoring the murmurs of pain and the bodies lying on the ground.

Ruby ran, away from the faceless actors of her latest act. Away from the screaming and begging and crying.

She frowned.

Her mother always told her that the audience always wanted a show. But now that she is painting the world in her colours, they would run and they would scream. Dismissing her work as nothing more than a mindless bloodbath.

As if her glory is even comparable to those low-class failures of a human being.

She always tries her best to give them perfection, but they still look away.

"Art is subjective, Ruby. They might be scared right now, but give them time. The world would understand your genius, eventually."

She knows that they will someday comprehend- no, praise her. Her mother is always right.

Ruby looks up ahead, the form of the deserter slightly visible as he climbs the side of a typical apartment building, the metal on the emergency ladder clanking hard in the dead silence of the night. She then looks toward her revolver, the final bullet waiting, no –anticipating its turn on the spotlight.

They will someday praise her for her brilliance. But for now, the screams will suffice as a subsidiary for the audience applause.

"Even when the bell toll its last, smile your brightest; the show never ends."

–Summer Rose; Mother, Huntsman, Artist.

AN:

Sorry for the short chapter. And also, sorry for the errors that I didn't notice.

I'll try my best to write, thanks!