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The Cipher Regime from Orre had a strategic plan in mind when they targeted Vermilion City in the Kanto region. They knew its importance as a port city – it was the only one that could be used to launch an attack back on Orre. 

In a swift and calculated move, Cipher's forces descended upon Vermilion City. The city, known for its bustling docks and lively markets, was caught off guard. People who were once busy with their daily lives suddenly found themselves in the middle of an invasion. The streets, usually filled with the sounds of laughter and chatter, were now echoing with the stomping of boots and the commands of Cipher's soldiers.

The residents of Vermilion City, unprepared for such an assault, were overwhelmed. Buildings that stood for years, some even centuries, were now under the control of the Cipher Regime. The port, which had always been a hub of trade and travel, was now a strategic point for the invaders.

In the heart of the city, the Cipher flag was raised, symbolizing their dominance. The once free and vibrant Vermilion City was now just another chess piece in the grand scheme of Orre's Cipher Regime, a crucial step in their plan to fortify their position and extend their reach.

.....

In the outer region of Vermilion City, the once lush and thriving forest had undergone a stark transformation. The tall, ancient trees that stood for centuries, home to countless Pokémon and a haven for nature lovers, were now reduced to stumps and debris. The forest, once alive with the symphony of birds and rustling leaves, was eerily silent, its essence stripped away.

The ground, which had been covered in a carpet of vibrant green moss and fallen leaves, was now scarred with deep trenches. These trenches, crudely dug and haphazardly fortified, zigzagged through the devastated landscape. They were a network of defensive positions, hastily constructed by the invading Cipher forces as they prepared for a potential counterattack from the residents of Kanto.

The trenches themselves were a jarring sight. The earthy walls, supported by wooden planks taken from the felled trees, were lined with soldiers. These men and women, once far removed from the thought of war, now waited with a mix of fear and determination in their eyes. The forest floor, previously a soft bed of organic matter, was now a muddy quagmire, trampled under the constant movement of military boots.

"Barrier!" 

Lieutenant Surge screamed, his voice cutting through the noise. 

In response, a multitude of Pokémon unleashed their protective moves – Light Screen, Barrier, and others – creating a shimmering shield over the Kanto forces. Above them, Pidgeots, Honchkrows, and Fearows swirled in the sky, dodging between battleships and planes engaged in their own deadly dance.

Suddenly, the air filled with a gritty haze. "Sandstorm!" came the command from Flint, the commander of the rock platoon. 

A collective effort from various Rock-type Pokémon kicked up a blinding storm, providing much-needed cover for the troops on the ground.

"Sir! Reinforcements are here!" 

A soldier's voice reached Lieutenant Surge, bringing a glimmer of hope. 

Surge lifted his eyes just in time to witness a series of explosions ripping through the sky, dozens of battleships bursting into flames under a mysterious red flash.

Grabbing his telescope, Surge searched the skies and found the source of the chaos. It was Blue Oak, maneuvering his Scizor with precision, slicing through Orre's soldiers with a fearsome efficiency.

"If Blue is here, then..." Surge's thoughts trailed off, anticipation building in his chest.

Then, as if on cue, the entire battlefield was suddenly illuminated by a surreal, bluish flame. Time seemed to stand still as everyone – Kanto and Orre soldiers alike – halted in their tracks, recognizing the ominous glow.

The flames of the netherworld, a bonfire from hell itself, cast their eerie light across the faces of the stunned soldiers. 

And there, walking calmly through the battlefield, was Red Ketchum. 

A rifle was in his hands, and by his side, an Arcanine moved with a grace that belied its powerful form.

.....

Red Ketchum's eyes narrowed as he faced the royal commander of the Orren troops, a formidable opponent clad in heavy armor, riding a swift Rapidash, wielding a bayonet. Red had already seen the damage the commander could inflict, turning soldiers into victims with his deadly blade.

"Give up if you don't want to die in foreign land," Red offered, his voice steady but firm.

In response, the commander lunged, his bayonet flashing dangerously close to Red's neck. In that critical moment, Arcanine leaped into the air, a powerful Flamethrower bursting from its jaws. Red reacted swiftly, his rifle firing a shot that momentarily halted the bayonet's deadly advance. The commander's Rapidash, engulfed in flames, reared back in panic.

Red exhaled sharply, lowering his rifle to the ground. He tapped a Pokeball icon next to the rifle's butt, his expression grim. For a moment, nothing happened, then the earth trembled violently. An Alpha Gyarados erupted from below, its Hydro Pump blasting the commander from his mount. Red now stood with his rifle's barrel aimed directly at the dismounted commander.

"Give up and I'll spare you," Red stated, his voice echoing the gravity of the situation.

"I may have lost, but Orre will win!" the commander shouted defiantly, reaching for his bayonet. But Red, with closed eyes and a heavy heart, fired. The bullet found its mark, ending the commander's resistance.

With the commander gone, Blue and the other Kanto soldiers swiftly overpowered the remaining Orren forces. 

Red, meanwhile, moved towards the enemy commander's tent, his steps heavy with the burden of war.

Inside, a horrific scene unfolded. Dozens of cages, many containing the lifeless bodies of women. Red's gaze then fell on one who was still alive, visibly terrified. Kneeling down, he offered a gentle, reassuring smile.

"It's alright, I am here to save you. My name is Red," he said softly, trying to soothe her fears.

"Is that monster dead?" the woman asked, her voice quivering.

"Yes," Red replied, watching as tears of relief streamed down her cheeks.

Oh, how he hated this damn war, Red thought to himself, his heart aching.

"What's your name?" he asked, spotting a key on a nearby table and moving to unlock the cage.

"Miyamoto," the woman responded with a weary smile, a glint of something more in her eyes. 

"Plan A has been accomplished."

•••••••••

The liberation of Vermilion City was a bittersweet triumph. As Red and his fellow soldiers marched through the city, the grim reality of life under Orre's rule was painfully evident. The streets, once vibrant and lively, were now lined with beggars, each face telling a story of suffering and despair.

Among them, Red noticed a malnourished woman, her eyes hollow with desperation. She was offering her body to the passing soldiers in exchange for food, a last resort of someone driven to the brink. Red could see the reluctance in her eyes, the conflict between survival and dignity.

Without hesitation, Red approached her and handed her a few Poké coins. 

"Go buy yourself something to eat," he said gently.

In the woman's eyes, gratitude flickered briefly before she hurried away. Red felt a pang of sorrow for her situation, a reminder of the war's toll on innocent lives.

"Don't give your money like that," Blue Oak warned, puffing on a cigarette. "She'll tell the others, and now you'll have to deal with beggars."

Lt. Surge laughed heartily. "Ha, you think Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes is going to listen to your words of advice?"

"Don't listen to these two psychos," Flint chimed in, ignoring the glares from Blue and Surge.

Red couldn't help but smile at their banter. It was a small respite from the harshness of war.

"So, who is your lady friend?" Flint asked teasingly, glancing at Miyamoto, who clung to Red's hand, hiding behind him.

"This is Miyamoto. I saved her from the commander's sick tendency to kill women," Red explained, feeling Miyamoto's grip tighten.

"Oh, my dear, how could such a monster exist? If you need to talk, your good friend Flint is here," Flint offered flirtatiously, causing Miyamoto to shy away even more.

"Ignore the pervert, girlie," Lt. Surge advised.

Flint, looking mischievously at Surge, posed a hypothetical question. "Surge, what's the Army's punishment for killing a lieutenant?" he asked, a playful glint in his eye.

Surge laughed dismissively, "Ha, you kill me? Get real, rock for brains." His mock insult was light-hearted but pointed, indicative of the camaraderie and rivalry common among soldiers.

Flint, feigning offense, squared up as if ready to spar with the electric-type trainer.

Meanwhile, Blue chose to ignore the budding scuffle. He turned to Red, "I'm going to the local pub, you want to come?" he asked, his tone suggesting a need for a brief escape from the harsh realities of war.

Red nodded in agreement, with Miyamoto still holding tightly to his hand. Blue, ever the pragmatist, questioned, "Shouldn't you admit her to the medical corps?"

"She seemed scared, so..." Red trailed off, scratching the back of his head, clearly concerned about Miyamoto's well-being.

"So, you thought, 'Oh, let's waste my time on some traumatized girl I saved.' Red, this is war, just leave her behind and get on with it," Blue said bluntly.

Red looked at Miyamoto, who was visibly shaking. 

"Tomorrow, okay? It's already evening. Just let the poor girl be safe and comfortable enough so she can go on her own," he argued, his voice laced with concern.

Blue rolled his eyes in exasperation. 

"Do whatever you want. I just want to eat, drink, and sleep."

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[Omake Paragraph]

Just as the song of a Poke Flute can wake a pokemon in the deepest of trances, the leaf of a Nuzleaf when properly whipped through the wind can wipe away even the most dire injuries a fainted pokemon may suffer. Yet pokemon centers will only call upon the expertise of Nuzleaf for the gravest of injuries, for like a Poke Ball in reverse, a Nuzleaf's power can make even the most tame and loyal pokemon forget that they ever had a trainer.

In remote areas of Hoenn, where true healers were unavailable, pokemon training took a decisively different character. Although their culture demanded that every pokemon was given a name, trainers strove not to grow too attached to their pokemon, for no matter how hard they tried defeat would inevitably someday return their comrades to the wilderness from where they came. Instead, the people of rural Hoenn scouted the wild for what powerful pokemon would inevitably return there, and learned not how one or two teams operated, but an entire metagame of techniques; the canonical texts of pokemon strategy unsurprisingly were written in this region, although they would in time be supplanted by a university which began as a school for Koffing trainers.

When the outside world was at last linked by road to these small towns, Chansey came with the changes of modern life to replace Nuzleaf at pokemon centers. But the ways of old were not forever lost. A contest based on the ways of the Nuzleaf-healed has spread as far as Unova and is beloved by countless trainers. They must fight every gym in a region and walk the routes in between, but may no longer use any who fall in battle, to simulate how they would be released into the wild in that era.