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Vanishing Line

Summary:

They thought they were safe after escaping their trainer and managing to escape to another continent entirely.

The specialist team sent after them disagrees, however well they may be prepared for the confrontation about to come.

Notes:

Okay this one requires an explanation.

The primary inspiration is TheOatmealPancakes' (<3) wonderful omake of From the Vast, Case Log UV-5492920-562.

*However*, as an astute reader might notice, this story doesn't have anything to do with From the Vast itself, and is instead based on my *next* planned story for Vastverse, Angel, the Butcher. I'm not entirely certain if (and when) I'll end up starting it, since at the very least I want to finish Another Way first before I take on another project of that size, and that'll happen *hopefully* in 2025. And yes, that fact does make this fic an omake for a fic that doesn't exist yet. Sue me.

Here's the currently planned blurb for Angel, the Butcher:

Angel, the Butcher


Following her owner's attempt to send her to storage forever, Angel, a Champion-level Gardevoir, is on the run. Left only with a scarred body, her Mega stone, and a voice in her head that isn't hers, she only has one goal: to return home.

If only she knew where that was beyond "somewhere in Hoenn".

Unfortunately for Angel, her escape won't go unnoticed. Be it wanting to contain her or use her presence to destabilize the entire system, many powerful beings have set their sights on her--from the past and present alike.

Despite it all, she keeps pushing on, making friends from all walks of life as she slowly pieces together who she is, who she wants to be, and most importantly:

What she wants to fight for.

Most of the events that are planned to happen between that outline and this fic are either obvious or unimportant, but the one topic I feel I have to clear preemptively is names. The blurb refers to the Gardevoir on the run as "Angel", stuck with "a voice in her head that isn't hers". The reality is that "Angel" is plural, with the individual headmates being Halo (a battle-hardened veteran Gardevoir, she fronts during this entire fic) and Enkō (a much younger-sounding Kirlia, the "voice in her head" mentioned earlier).

With that cleared, onto the fic!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

...

Halo stopped mid-step, discarding whatever half-formed daydream her mind might’ve been preoccupied with as she focused. The wilderness was a lot busier than she’d expected it to be, even around human paths. This one might not have been one of the ‘routes’ she had heard plenty about—merely a half-abandoned hiking trail, according to Marachi—but she expected any chance of exposure to humans to be too high a risk for most wildlings to take.

Clearly, they didn’t think so, and the level of mental activity in the surrounding area reflected that. The Gardevoir had gotten used to it already, and was quite sure she had already accounted for it in her passive sensing. Which only made the blip in the distance behind them much more attention grabbing, meriting as close an examination as she could manage from what had to be over five miles—

O-oh, is someone following us?

It wasn’t the outcome Halo wanted to be true, but found it hard to disagree with Enkō’s hunch. Someone using the same trail as them was one thing, but doing so while intensely thinking about her was another.

Indeed, Enkō.

D-do you think they could be friendly?

There was a soft plea in the Kirlia’s mental voice, her distress clear enough to pierce through Halo’s emotionlessness. Sadly, both of them already knew the answer.

Not a chance.

“Oi, Halo! You alright?” Marachi asked, snapping Halo back to reality.

She opened her eyes, squinting at the harsh subtropical sun as she took her makeshift band in. The two brothers and their Mightyena had made it a few dozen feet before realizing she’d stopped, their expressions each some variation of confusion. “^Someone’s following us,^” Halo spoke up, taking the two boys aback as she corrected the satchel on her shoulder. Before the older one could raise the obvious counterargument in his usual snarky way, she continued. “^And no, Marachi, they’re not just using the path after us. I can tell.^”

With his quip refuted before he could even vocalize it, the de facto leader of their band had to actually confront what the Gardevoir was saying—and it did not sound good. It’d take more than that to break his composed facade in front of his brother, but some nervousness still leaked into his words. “Tepigs?” he asked, crossing his arms, his heavy backpack wobbling behind him.

“Marachiiii, dad told you not to call them that!” the younger boy cut in, standing up from leaning on the Mightyena.

His brother smirked. “To not call them that to their faces, Asahi.”

It took Halo a moment to parse the older boy’s question. She held in a sigh at the childish moniker, and focused on the distant group, trying to drill into the thrust of Marachi’s question. Of the seven minds she could sense, one was much more unfocused than the others, letting her make out tattered strands of thought even from the vast distance.

They weren’t reassuring. “^No, not human police, I don’t think. They’re...^”

Oh god-fucking-dammit.

H-How did they find us!?

“^They’re looking for me,^” Halo continued. She felt her mind close up in real time, her muscles tensing as she considered her next move.

For better or worse, the rest of her makeshift band was unaware of what that revelation implied, especially not its younger half. “For you? But why? Did you steal this jacket?” Asahi asked, locking eyes with ‘his’ Dark-type. The Mightyena, Tadeo, wouldn’t have had any idea either, even if he had been roped into the conversations the rest of the group was having. Alas, not even Halo’s brute force was enough to overcome the restriction imposed by Tadeo’s typing, not without the consent the rest of the group had no way of effectively asking for—at least, if they wanted to avoid possible injury.

Halo just wanted to shrug this idea off—before Enkō mirrored it, naively hopeful.

Asahi’s right—m-maybe they don’t want to capture us?

Why would there be seven of them, then?

What if that’s what they do for all Gardevoir?

Not a shred of Halo’s mind bought Enkō’s idea—and the Kirlia’s mind was only barely doing any better. They tried their best to outrun the league, and their luck had run out just a couple weeks in, despite having made it into another country entirely. Maybe they had been doomed from the start.

Either way, they wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“^No, Asahi. Or—yes, I probably have, but I know this isn’t why they’re after me,^” Halo finally answered, placing her satchel of supplies on the ground and taking her denim jacket off. “^I don’t know what they’re going to do exactly, but it won’t be pretty.^”

Marachi narrowed his eyes. “Wait, you gonna fight?”

“^If I’ll have to, yes.^”

I really hope we won’t...

“Oh! Tadeo, come with—” Asahi began, only for the Gardevoir to shush him.

“^No. Only me. I don’t want any of you to be near when all this goes down,^” Halo instructed, her mental voice louder and fiercer than usual. She stuffed her sun-bleached jacket into her satchel before handing it off to the Mightyena. The canine couldn’t do much to help with everyday tasks, but he could carry a bit here and there.

The rest of the Hoennian trio were less enthused at the idea of their friend getting into a fight alone, though. “But you’re gonna get hurt!” the younger boy pleaded, distraught.

“Yeah, that’s a dumb idea, Halo. You even know how to fight?” Marachi asked—and Halo only barely kept herself from laughing.

Don’t laugh at him, he meant it!

I’m not laughing at him, Enkō. I’m laughing at myself, in tandem with fate, for putting me in this spot.

I—I don’t know what you mean...

It’s okay.

“^Suffice to say that I do know how to fight.^” The Gardevoir wasn’t about to show off her strength to the boys—she’d kept quiet about her past for a reason—but the harsh sunlight made the many scars covering her arms very visible. The older boy understood the allusion, ending up even more confused at a mon capable of fighting and surviving on her own having chosen to tag along with them.

Either way, not the time for questions—with one exception. “What do you want us to do while it’s going down?” the older boy asked.

“^Veer off the path, find a well-hidden spot closer to the mountains, as far away from here as you can. Keep moving and don’t stop, no matter what you see or hear behind you. Understood?^”

Marachi nodded firmly. All Asahi could do was tremble, taken off-guard by their usual march having taken such a downturn for the worse. He wanted to speak up, to ask their mon friend to stop and to not fight and not get hurt for no reason—but he was too late. Halo had turned around and was marching away from them, kicked up dust staining her ankle-length dress.

“C’mon Asahi, you heard her. Climb on Tadeo and let’s get out of there,” Marachi murmured, tightening the arm straps of his backpack.

“B-but what if she gets hurt!?” the younger boy pleaded.

“Th-then she gets hurt. It’s her wish, and I doubt she’d be asking for it if she couldn’t hold her own in a fight. Come on, before whoever is coming catches up to us.”

Asahi didn’t have the words to argue, holding back tears and staying quiet as he climbed onto their Mightyena. Tadeo was confused about what was happening, but figured following Marachi’s sudden turn into the treeline was for the best.

Wouldn’t be the first time they had to stay low in the wilderness for a while, anyway.


The group following her had picked up on her movements right away—and she, in turn, had picked up on theirs. They must’ve either had a psychic or a flier, but her passing glances at what she could make of the afternoon sky didn’t reveal any of the latter.

Halo paid their movements little mind as she searched for an adequate arena. Somewhere to sit down and rest her legs on, somewhere with dense foliage to obstruct any coordinated attacks. Her pursuers had slowed down, their shared apprehension palpable even from a distance. Not something competitively trained mons would feel—it wasn’t the anticipation at the thought of an upcoming battle, it was nervousness at getting into something way over their heads.

This will be easy.

I-I don’t know, there are so many of them!

The Gardevoir chuckled at Enkō’s alarmed remark, nonchalantly searching for an adequate fallen log all the while.

They don’t have our battle experience even when combined, Enkō.

Ah, there it was, just the right spot. A freshly fallen, moss-free log in the heart of a thick grove, the foliage dense enough to all but completely obscure the sky and sink the woods in damp shade.

How can you tell, Halo?

They would’ve known better than to slowly approach if they did.

Satisfied with her prospects so far, Halo took a deep breath and sat down on the eyed-out log, closing her eyes. Her emotions and sensations were already subdued at the best of times, but nowhere near as much as they got during battle. With a bit of focus, the former got snuffed out altogether, shielded behind a nigh-impenetrable wall of her psychics. The latter shifted—her hearing dulled, her vision grew jumpy, her psychics kept a detailed track of everything that moved in the vicinity.

Which, before long, included the five minds that had approached her.

The discrepancy in numbers was noted, but not acted upon. Perhaps they thought five wanna-be battlers would be enough, perhaps the other two fulfilled different tasks. It didn’t matter—her ‘guests’ were here.

She had grown familiar with some kinds of auras enough to distinguish them by species, and that provided insight into a few of the strangers. A Gardevoir, a Gallade, a Togekiss, and two she couldn’t place. It was only when the sound of crunching foliage had pushed through her muffling and caught her attention that she opened her eyes again, immediately filling in the rest of the scene.

Not many Mismagius’ at her competitive level; figures she didn’t recognize them. The yellow Misdreavus was much more worrisome, though—mostly in that Halo didn’t want to inadvertently traumatize another child. Reassuringly, the hauntling was even more clearly terrified at her sight, immediately scooting to hide behind the older ghost.

They shouldn’t be a problem.

It was only a brief glint at the edge of Halo’s peripheral vision that had alerted her to the final intruder, an oddly blue Bisharp. A part of her was keen on beating herself over not having noticed them sooner, but it could wait until she was done here. They flinched once her shaking gaze connected with theirs, leading them to slink off further into the treeline in a doomed attempt to regain the element of surprise.

The Togekiss was perched at the top of the tree she was sitting beside, ready to book it on a moment’s notice. The enemy Gardevoir was projecting fake emotions, drowned out by their group’s genuine restlessness and easily discarded. Their attempts to glean her thoughts were similarly unsuccessful, with just a glimpse of genuine frustration sneaking past their facade. The Mismagius’ emotions were the most muffled of the bunch—an uncertain, and clearly unearned hope.

And last, the Gallade fronting the group, the only one that dared to approach her directly. Concerned, empathetic, maintaining a weak smile despite his palpable worry. Wanted to talk, but Halo wasn’t sure whether she wanted to listen.

Might as well try, for Enkō’s sake.

“^Greetings,^” the Gallade began, puncturing his mental words with a curt nod. “^You must be Angel.^”

Her eyes closed as she chewed through what to say in response. There was no point in denying or playing dumb—she knew as well as they did what they were here for. “^I’ve been known by that name, indeed,^” Halo answered, her voice reaching all five non-Dark-types around her in perfect clarity and coldness. “^I imagine you’ve come to re-capture me?^”

“^Not necessarily—^” the Gallade responded, only for Halo’s glare to cut him off. This was a lie, and however well obscured by precise legal terms and paperwork, a lie always remains a lie. “^We are investigating your escape from your registered trainer. I take you understand the graveness of a trained mon of your caliber not only running away, but illegally moving between countries?^”

His question was summarily ignored, replaced with one of her own. “^I take you understand the risk involved in antagonizing a trained mon of my caliber, then.^” A shared shudder went through the five minds she could sense, with the Misdreavus failing to contain a whimper in response.

The Gallade wasn’t immune to her threat either, but wasn’t willing to give up a more peaceful approach yet. “^Angel, we... admittedly, we weren’t told of many details of your case, but we can make some educated guesses. Your owner has been known to be neglectful and is currently being investigated by the League himself. Rest assured that your needs will be tended to while the League looks for a replacement trainer to look after you—^”

“^You’re a fucking idiot if you genuinely believe that,^” Halo spat back. Despite her composure remaining ironclad to psychic senses, her voice betrayed her feelings. “^Do you genuinely believe they would take any risks with me ever again? They’ll toss me to the bottom of whatever their fancy name for The Pit is and leave me to rot. I am not going back.^”

It was easy to decipher the moniker Halo had used as referring to one of the storage/care facilities for retired trained mons, but much harder to mount a response to it. The Gallade took a step back as Halo sat up from her seat before opening her eyes—

Halo, watch out!

And finding herself staring into the Mismagius’s Hypnotic gaze from less than an inch away.

She jerked back, the ghost’s assault on her mind unexpectedly powerful, especially for a non-Psychic. It was enough to knock her off-balance for a precious second, but only that. Before the Mismagius could react, it was her own eyes that had lit up with a fierce sheen, the mental poke that followed strong enough to disrupt his move.

All the while, a brilliant light built up between her hands.

The Misdreavus barely had the time to scream in alarm before Halo’s Dazzling Gleam erupted, knocking back everyone unfortunate enough to be near as it charred the surrounding grass and bark. The older ghost had taken the brunt of the hit, writhing on the grassy dirt a few dozen feet away—still conscious, surprisingly. The other Gardevoir’s Protect had endured the rest of the blast, but only barely, and if the fear that broke through their emotional disguise was any sign, they knew what it meant as well as she did.

And so did their teammates—but it was too late. The Gallade was the first to recover from her blast, left arm enveloped in a bright purple sheen as he leaped towards her. His jabs were fast, but Halo was faster, alternating between backsteps and brief Protects to burn through his onslaught. There was only so long he could go for, and she knew it, jumping and Teleporting only a few feet at a time to make him keep up his exhausting flurry of attacks.

The rest of his team wasn’t about to sit idly, either. The Bisharp hadn’t shown themselves yet, but the Gardevoir’s Calmed Mind and a readied Shadow Ball spoke for themselves. Fortunately, both of the ghosts were incapacitated for the time being, the younger out of fear and the older still busy scraping themselves off the ground.

The Togekiss got the jump on her.

Their Air Slash smacked her on the side of her head, reducing the world to a deafening blur as it knocked her off-balance. She stumbled uncontrollably for just a second, preparing a medium length Teleport the moment she was capable of it—but she was too slow.

Halo, run!

The Gallade’s Poison Jab connected with her stomach, shooting searing pain through her entire body. Her natural reflex pushed her to double over and land safely on the ground—at least, what remained of it. This hurt; she was in pain, but it didn’t even come close to matching the Gyarados’s Aqua Tail from her final battle in the circuit.

Nah, I’ve only just started.

They had their chance to wear her down; now it was her turn. She kept her flinched position for just long enough to coax the opposing Gardevoir to let loose with their Shadow Ball, and immediately seized the opportunity. Arcs of bright yellow energy jumped through her arm as she responded to the Gallade in kind, enduring another Poison Jab to grab him by the neck. Before he could react, the point-black Thunder Wave sent his body spasming, letting his opponent easily shove him to the side to take the brunt of his teammate’s attack.

His scream was cut off as the Shadow Ball struck him, knocking what remained of his consciousness out. Without skipping a beat, Halo tossed his limp body at the struggling Ghost-type, undoing whatever recovery he’d eked out. The Togekiss was still circling above her, ready for another strike; the Gardevoir was readying up an attack—and shouted something short, reminding her of the Unovan “Now!”.

Halo got only the briefest glimpse of the Bisharp as it dashed towards her, their entire head shrouded in silvery sheen. Their Iron Head wasn’t the actual purpose of the attack, though—and she realized too late. Before she could dash out of the Dark-type’s path, the black and golden pokeball they were holding made contact with her.

And everything went dark.


The voices came through soon, loud and fierce. Pleading her to stop, promising her release from the pain and pursuit, offering her a life of bliss. A lie after lie, but what they didn’t have in believability they made for in numbers. Her impervious psyche took hit after hit, holding strong despite the emotional bombardment she had only ever deduced existed, but which she didn’t remember going through.

Not even she could last forever when confronted with it all, though.

It was all lies, but the core message wasn’t; she knew it wasn’t. She’d be freed from the struggle, freed from pain, sentenced to an eternal prison where there was no thought, no wanting, no regrets—only peace, now and forever. It called for her, too loud for her to ignore it all, especially as each of the many hits to her mind added up. It might’ve been made of steel, but not even it could withstand it all, the thick metal beams getting eroded by thousands upon thousands of cuts.

Maybe it was worth it—

Halo, where are you!?

Enkō.


The jump from the ball’s pitch-darkness to the world’s muffled sunlight was just as abrupt as the other way around, but Halo held through. Her eyes might’ve been briefly blinded, but her mind was running on overdrive, pushed into an incandescent fury at Enkō having been threatened. She didn’t care about herself, nowhere enough to resist the call of eternal peace, but the Kirlia didn’t deserve it, not after everything she’d been through.

And her guardian would make them all pay.

The Togekiss caught her attention first, trying to flee, to call for help. Halo’s entire body crackled with electricity for just a second before she let loose, a deafening Thunder knocking everyone around back as it exploded around the Flying-type. She kept her eyes shut for long enough to spare herself the worst of it, only glimpsing the falling Togekiss and the charred remnants of a red ribbon wrapped around their neck.

The Bisharp hesitated, and it cost them dearly—wouldn’t sneak up on her again. She built up a Shadow Ball of her own, pretending to be focused on the other Gardevoir. Once they’d recovered a second later, the blue Dark-type launched into another attack of their own, the silver sheen of their Iron Head approaching fast.

This time, Halo was waiting for them. An almost instant, short-range Teleport repositioned her beside the approaching enemy, opening them up for an attack of her own—but she had better ideas, still. She didn’t flinch even as the many sharp edges around their body cut into her grasping hands, staining them with her blood. Her grab lasted a split second, her body pivoting on her pointy feet as it turned and redirected the attacker—right onto their teammate.

And this time, the other Gardevoir’s Protect was just a bit too slow.

Their teammate slammed into them, drawing blood and knocking them both down, if briefly. Neither of them were done with their fight yet, nor was Halo ready to take mercy on them. Her gaze jumped around the rest of the battlefield, each combatant examined with ruthless focus, intense enough to drill into their now-unconscious minds. Mismagius, out; Gallade, out; Togekiss, out; Misdreavus—

So tiny, so afraid.

The sight of the pitiful ghost broke Halo’s focus for long enough for her enemies to begin repositioning. The Bisharp took on a defensive stance this time, shielding the enemy psychic as they put distance between themselves and her, limping with every step.

They wouldn’t let her escape; why would they deserve that mercy?

Halo closed her eyes as she sank into the mat of shadows beneath her, the debris of the shattered ball littering the ground around her. Her Shadow Sneak lasted but a blink before she returned, mere feet before the other Gardevoir—and with a Shadow Ball seething in her hand. Once more they attempted to protect themselves, putting up the translucent shield in time—and watching as it shattered, their assailant’s move utterly overpowering their defenses.

Their body was launched from the intensity of the strike, falling limp onto the rocky dirt. Halo wasn’t around to see it, already racing towards her final attacker. They trembled even as they tried to maintain composure, waiting for her to strike first. Each step she took closer towards them made them back off just that bit more, the sight forcing the dourest of snarls from her. Now they were backing off?

As if hearing her, the opposing Bisharp stopped, finding the courage within themselves to hold their ground. A desperate, narrow glare, bloodied body, defensive posture. Waiting for her to make the first move before Sucker Punching, clearly.

Predictable.

Halo did her role in the exchange she’d been a part in dozens if not hundreds of times while battling, the bright blue gleam of Aura Sphere shining in her hands. Embarrassingly, this very first bit of charging was all the Bisharp needed to attempt their move, shining black energy coalescing around their bladed hand into a punch—

It didn’t even come close to striking her by the time her Vacuum Wave connected with them. Had they gotten a clue and not tried to continue, she might’ve even stopped there and then. But no, of course not; they remained standing despite it all, desperation dripping from their expression and posture alike.

Nothing a follow-up Thunderbolt couldn’t solve.

Their body jerked as they impacted the floor, leaving only the fading roar of Halo’s attack to fill in the silence. That, and the electricity still jumping around her tensed arm, ready to strike again if any of them as much as dared move, and then again, and again, and again, and again, until the world would finally leave HER ALONE—

A whimper beside her, an attack—

HALO, STOP!

—almost launched. She could only stare at the small, yellow shape huddled behind the tree the Bisharp had tried to protect as her all-encompassing fury finally began to fade. She stared at the little ghost, at this child, feeling both theirs and Enkō’s fear—at the attack, at the carnage, at the pokeball, at her. It kept growing and growing, eroding whatever composure she had left. She’d gone too far, she’d almost hurt a child, she—

The crunching of racing steps approaching from the distance, a pair of panicking minds.

She had to go.

Turning away from the little ghost, Halo mentally traced where the boys had gone off to—and grunted inwardly at the realization they had begun walking toward her in concern at seeing the first Thunder. Something to drill into them more going forward, should they manage to get away from this entire mess.

H-H-Halo, wh-why—why didn’t you let them go?

Enkō’s whimper cut her Teleport off, leaving Halo shaking and distraught now that she’d calmed down enough to hear her voice again. Moments later, the rest of the pursuing group had caught up with them, their terror palpable for the Gardevoir and Kirlia alike. Halo turned towards them, staring first the Gothitelle and then the blond-haired, well-dressed human in the eye, before fiercely snarling, “^Leave me alone,^”

Because they won’t let us go.

And Teleporting away, leaving only destruction behind her.

As befit a Butcher.

Notes:

Once again, special thanks to Oatcakes for writing his omake! I wrote this fic the same day after reading it and getting inspired by his OC team.

 

If you enjoyed this, check out my main fics, Another Way and From the Vast! (Though you really should have already read the latter to understand this fic at all!)

I also have a Discord server for my writings!