A Reminiscence

Chapter Nine

Put Under

We had been sailing for several days by the time we made port in Sinnoh; so much so, in fact, I had only one week before my presentation in Unova would occur, but luckily, we would reach Unova well within the allotted timeframe, which was very good for us indeed. However, before we could get to that, we had to stop in Johto and figure out how to put Captain Greybeard back in his proper time period.

The port we made was in Olivine City, guided by the colossal lighthouse that made the town famous. Although the two ships we were on were travelling roughly alongside each other, Captain Greybeard found himself forced to weigh anchor outside of the main port so that the captain of the SS Anne could explain the situation to the proper authorities, so as not to cause undue panic.

While the captain explained the situation, Ralph, Anne, and myself were standing upon the pier, within a fair-sized group of very panicked people around us. Most of them were staring at the colossal pirate ship just near them, wondering how the situation would develop further. We, however, had little more interest in its possibilities, so we were merely waiting for Jack to come to us and discussing a plan of searching for Celebi. However, given the fact that a legendary pirate ship was sitting within easy viewing distance, the conversation inevitably turned to it.

"I really don't think this is going to end well," Anne said, considering our current predicament. "I mean, pirates in a port town? When in history has that ever gone well for anybody?"

"I do not think we have much to worry about in this circumstance," I proposed. "They have junky old pistols, cutlasses, and rum. The people the captain is getting onto this have guns and protective armor. Frankly, even if they do try something, they are likely to get shot immediately."

"They could still easily hurt people, though," Ralph pointed out. "We have to keep them under control somehow."

"Hm…how would one keep pirates under control?" I wondered aloud.

"Bribe them?" Anne offered.

"We could never possibly afford enough gold to bribe a crew of that size," I countered.

"How about beer?" Ralph asked. We considered this for a moment, and realized he had an excellent point; if we gave the crew a fair amount of strong alcohol, we could placate them and perhaps even get them incredibly drunk, which would prevent them from doing anything unpleasant.

"Excellent idea!" I cried. "Are there any breweries nearby?"

"I think there are a few," Jack said, having suddenly arrived. "What's this about breweries, anyway?"

"We are going to give Greybeard's crew a load of alcohol to stop them from doing something unpleasant to the town," I answered.

Jack paused for a moment, considering the proposal. "I guess that makes sense. I mean, it's more logical than any of the shit that's been going on already."

"Only just, though," I pointed out. "Ah, here comes Greybeard now!"

We looked over, and saw that Greybeard was sailing over on his dinghy, making impressively good time, all things considered.

"Ahoy!" he cried once he reached the dock, waving to us. "What's the order of business?"

"Uh…" I looked behind me to look at my group, and they urged me to tell him the current state of affairs. "We…had some concerns regarding your crew."

"Those being?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Uh…well, typically pirates and port towns are not the best of combinations, burning and pillaging, you know, all that, and we thought it would be pertinent to keep your crew under control somehow…"

"Get to the point!" Greybeard demanded.

"We would like you to stay on your ship for the time being while we acquire some amount of alcohol to placate your crew until we locate Celebi."

Greybeard thought about this for a moment, stroking his long beard, and then nodded in approval. "That sounds like a fair idea. I'll go stop them from doing anything stupid." He got back into his dinghy, and as he sailed back to his galleon, he turned back to us, and yelled, "And I'll expect some damn good beer!"

"What the hell was that?" the captain of the SS Anne asked, walking up next to us after finishing his explanation.

"Captain Greybeard is going to keep his crew under control until we can acquire enough alcohol to placate his crew and prevent them from doing something unpleasant in the town," I said.

"Somehow, hearing it said out loud made it seem even stupider," Jack commented, grimacing.

"I have to agree," the captain said. "That sounds like an absolutely ridiculous plan."

"A ridiculous plan for a ridiculous circumstance," I answered. "Consider that we are, in fact, dealing with time travelling pirates here."

The captain shrugged. "I suppose there's at least some logic there."

"About time we had some logic," Ralph said. "So, where's the brewery?"

"There's a good one on the end of Mulch Street," the captain suggested. "I've been there before while sailing, and they have pretty quality stuff."

"Excellent!" I cried. "We shall go there posthaste and acquire something very strong."

"How strong are we talking here?" Anne asked. "Like, equivalent to napalm, or what?"

"Perhaps not that much," I answered. "But it should be fairly strong. Remember, we are trying to placate a crew of about forty, so we will need a fairly high alcoholic content."

"Well, what are we standing around here yammering for?" Jack asked. "Let's go!"

()()()

A few minutes later, after setting off in search of the famed brewery, we found it, and it was certainly quite impressive; a large brick building, a sign on the front proclaiming it as the "Olivine Brewery and Distillery." Several shining silver pipes lead in and out of the building, to carry the necessary chemicals and catalysts to produce that golden ambrosia. Most of the inner workings were contained in the back of the building; however, we had little interest in taking a tour. No, we wanted the front entrance, which contained a fairly nice bar where purchases could be made, including the kegs that we were currently searching for.

"This is quite the brewery," Jack commented as we made our entrance. Sitting at the main counter was a bored twenty-something man, absentmindedly reading a newspaper.

"You're gonna have to show ID if you wanna buy something," he said, turning the page over.

"Will this be sufficient?" I asked, pulling out my wallet and showing him my driver's license.

"Yeah, sure. Whaddya want?"

I thought for a moment, looking at the spirits offered there. However, I had absolutely no context for any of them, and had to inquire further to get what I wanted.

"What, pray tell, would your strongest offering be?" I asked.

"Entei's Revenge. That stuff'll put out a raging Tyranitar with a couple shots."

I glanced back to my group, who seemed pleased with the description offered.

"Very well!" I said, pulling out some money. "How much would it be for a keg of that?"

"What, Entei's Revenge?" the man asked, amused. "You can't get a keg of it. It's illegal to store it that way."

"Illegal?!" I yelled, baffled by this development. "Why would it be illegal to store kegs of it? What is in it?"

"It's 180-proof," he answered."

"180!" I cried. "This stuff is ninety percent alcohol by content?"

"Yeah, that's why it's illegal to have kegs of it. If there's a fire, they'd blow up like a bomb."

"And little wonder they would! How can anybody stand to drink such a thing?"

"They're stupid and went into a bet?"

"Or perhaps lost one…" I muttered. "Alright, look, we need something very strong, say, strong enough to put out a crew of forty hardened pirates?"

The man looked at me strangely. "That's an oddly specific way of putting it."

"We have an oddly specific circumstance," I said.

He stood up, glaring at me. "What the hell kind of circumstance are you talking about?" A flash of realization crossed his face as he remembered what was going on today. "Wait a minute, you're that Berkeley Larch guy, from Kanto! The one that came in with the pirate ship, right?"

"Uh, yes," I answered, wondering how the media had gotten the story that quickly, considering we had been out at sea for the last several days. I set that aside and continued on with the conversation. "We realized it may be a poor idea to have a ship of pirates on the outside of a port town, so we thought it wise to acquire some alcohol to placate them for the time being until we can return them to their proper place in history."

"Uh…" the man gawked at me for a moment, before shaking his head and thinking honestly about what could be done.

"Let me think…yeah, the only thing that we have enough of is the Offshore stout."

"What would be the proof of that?" I asked.

"Uh…about ten percent."

"Ten?" I began to mutter in thought, considering the options. "Very well, it appears we have no other choice. I shall take two kegs of that."

"Two kegs?" the man asked. "Are you sure that's gonna be enough?"

"That's a good point," Anne said. "I really don't think that's gonna do it."

"Trust me, I know what I'm doing," I explained. "I am a scientist, after all."

"That doesn't really follow…" Anne began, but she was stopped when the man came back out, lugging two fair-sized containers of the Offshore.

"All right, that'll be three hundred dollars," he said, slightly out of breath.

"Three hundred dollars?!" I cried. "To hell with that, just give me the one."

"Oh, Jesus," he muttered, slowly putting one of them back. He took some time in returning, but soon was, looking somewhat annoyed with me.

"All right, that's a hundred and fifty dollars for the one keg," he spat. "Are there any more issues with that, your majesty?"

"Not at all," I said, pulling out the necessary (though still somewhat excessive) funds. Soon, we were back outside, lugging the shining cylinder behind us.

"Great job, Larch," Jack commented. "You got some lame-ass beer. This won't be enough to put them out for shit!"

"Must you really, Jack?" I questioned. "We are going to have to work together on this, you realize."

"Yeah, as if you're one to talk," Jack responded.

"Oh, spare me, Captain Hubris."

"You gonna start this, Professor Jackass?"

"Will both of you idiots PLEASE SHUT THE HELL UP!" Anne cried at her most impressive volume, immediately silencing us both and brining the group to a halt.

"Uh…" Jack stammered. "M-my apologies, Larch."

"Likewise, Jack," I said, eyes wide with spontaneous terror. I shook my head, and began to explain my plan. "Look, it is obvious this amount of beer will not be sufficient for our purposes. Therefore, we shall have to increase the potency by some manner."

Jack nodded, getting the idea of my plan. "All right, that makes sense. How do we do that, exactly?"

"Simple. I fake a wound, enter into a pharmacy, purchase some rubbing alcohol with the disguise of the aforementioned wound, exit, and then introduce it into the keg."

Anne made gagging noise, Ralph stared at me in fierce confusion, and Jack merely slapped his face.

"Is there a problem, Jack?" I asked.

"First, that's the dumbest-ass plan I've ever heard, and two, you can't just pour rubbing alcohol into a keg of porter! That's disgusting!"

"They are pirates!" I insisted. "They drink rum daily! What would they care of the quality of it"?

"It's rubbing alcohol!" Jack responded. "I'm not going to just sit by and let you skunk up a perfectly fine keg of beer!" he yelled, yanking the keg from my hands.

"Well, then, I suppose you have a better idea?" I asked.

"Why, yes, I do!"

"Very well then!" I turned to Ralph. "We shall do this scientifically. Ralph, you help me acquire the rubbing alcohol. Anne, you go with Jack to do…whatever his plan is."

Anne glanced at us a few times, before she and Jack ran off.

"Uh…so, how do you want to do this?" Ralph asked, rubbing the back of his head.

"Firstly, we must acquire some gauze." As I said this, Ralph produced an amount of gauze from his pack that would be more than sufficient.

"Uh…excellent," I said. "Now we will require some food coloring…"

Once more, Ralph produced an amount of red dye. I stared at him for a moment, somewhat perturbed by this.

"Why do you have…never mind. Here, wrap it around my arm," I said, pulling up my sleeve.

"Somehow, I doubt this is going to work," Ralph said, putting some of the dye on the gauze and wrapping it around me. After a few moments, I had a reasonably convincing wound, and had every confidence it would allow me to collect the rubbing alcohol my plan required.

"Excellent!" I cried, pulling my sleeve back over it to keep it covered until it would be needed. "Now, we must find ourselves a pharmacy!"

"I think there's one over there," Ralph said, pointing down the street. I looked and saw that, indeed, a small pharmacy was located there.

"Good eye, Ralph! Hold this while I go get the alcohol," I pushed the keg into him, knocking out his breath quite well. I might have sworn I heard him muttering something as I walked off, but I set that thought aside.

()()()

Although the pharmacy was not nearly as impressive as the brewery we had recently left behind, it was still a fair establishment, containing a variety of medications, bandages, and many other materials that would be invaluable to most people. I, however, was not searching for any of those. Just before I made my entrance, I pulled my sleeve back up, revealing the "bloodied" gauze, although it was now looking a tad smudged. I set that thought aside as I walked up to the front desk, attempting to look as convincingly pained as possible.

"Hello?" I asked, straining as much as I could. "I am in dire need of some rubbing alcohol for this grievous wound."

The cashier, who was distracted with something below the counter, looked up at me, recoiling in shock. "Oh my God!" he cried. "What the hell happened to you?"

I paused for a moment, realizing I had no good alibi for the false injury. "I was…uh…attacked! In my very own home, no less, by a man who had stolen my serrated steak knife!"

"Damn!" he yelled, enraptured.

"Indeed! I managed to fight him off with a potted cactus, but regrettably, he got a fair strike on me before I did so, and it must be stopped before it becomes infected."

"Jesus, dude, we need to get you to a hospital!" he ran off for the telephone, and while he was not looking, I went into a bout of panic, as this was a severe departure from my original plan. Indeed, going to the hospital would not only waste time, it would reveal my ruse, which would have been a poor thing for all involved.

"Er, I think the more immediate issue is an infection setting in, and, of course, one must take into account the fact that, you know, superbugs and all that…"

"You got gouged with a serrated knife!" he yelled back. "Where'd the phone go, anyway?"

I looked around, and saw that he had been looking in the wrong place; the phone was actually on the front counter, only a few feet to the left of his original spot. While he was fumbling around in the back, I carefully slipped behind and unplugged it, which would hopefully be a useful distraction. Indeed, by the time I had gotten back to my place, he had returned, and noticed the phone as he did so.

"There it is!" he cried, running to it joyously. "Now how the hell did it end up here?" He picked it up, but soon noticed that it was not actually doing anything. "And, more importantly, why is it unplugged?" He looked to me, a suspicious look on his face.

"Uh…" I stammered, "it must have been, uh, terrorists. You know, the…anti-phone…terrorists." I smiled, hoping my unconvincing cover would serve at least some purpose.

"Anti-phone terrorists, huh?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "This sounds serious. I had better call the police."

I tensed up immediately upon hearing this suggestion. Calling the police would likely be even worse for me than the hospital.

"Uh…wait, I think I am starting to feel better..." I carefully pulled off my bandage, feigning surprise when I saw there was no wound. "My God! I've been healed! It's a miracle!"

I quickly made my exit, hoping the fellow would simply let the matter drop. By the time I made it back to Ralph, who still had the keg, I was home free, but unfortunately lacking in rubbing alcohol.

"Well?" Ralph asked, noticing my missing bandage. "What happened?"

"I unfortunately failed in this mission. Perhaps simply buying the rubbing alcohol outright without all this charade would have worked better, looking back…"

"Gee, you think?" Ralph muttered. Jack and Anne then returned, the former holding a very small bottle of something very special indeed.

"Jack!" I cried, running to him. "What have you acquired?"

"Entei's Revenge," he said, holding them up. Indeed, a fiery image of Entei was upon the label, though it was somewhat hard to tell, given the size of the bottle. "Pour some of this into the porter, and those pirates are going straight down."

Although somewhat annoyed I did not come up with the rather obvious solution before me, I set that aside and took the bottle, somewhat concerned due to its potency.

"How strong is this, practically?" I asked, straining my eyes at the ingredients on the back.

"Smell it and find out," Jack suggested.

I rather tenuously did so, popping one of them open and taking a very light whiff. Immediately, I recoiled, nearly spilling the liquid upon the ground, as my head went very fuzzy and very light indeed. I soon recovered from this, feeling quite unpleasant from it.

"Christ!" I muttered, pulling open the keg. "I nearly got drunk just from smelling that." I looked down into the keg's prize, then to the potent terror I was holding. "Well, here goes something." I quickly poured the clear liquid into the keg, shutting it closed again as soon as I could.

"The deed is done," I said, thinking about the implications of my action.

"You do all realize bootlegging is against the law, correct?" Anne asked.

"Extenuating circumstances, Anne," I pointed out, grabbing the keg. "If we do get found out, we have a fairly sound defense."

Anne brushed it off, and we all made our way back to the docks, carrying our concoction with us the whole way.

()()()

Soon enough, we had delivered our cargo to the waiting Greybeard, who quickly brought it over to his crew. Evidently, our strange little concoction was a hit, as he returned barely twenty minutes later, looking somewhat out of it himself.

"I don't know what that stuff you gave us was," he drawled, stepping onto the dock, "but whatever it was, it was pretty damn good. They won't be going anywhere for a while now."

"Indeed…" I said, carefully looking around. "So, the ship is stuck there, correct?"

"Aye. Here's a tip: never try to weigh anchor with a crew that's so drunk they can barely tell where their own hands are."

"I shall treasure that moral forever," I lied. "Now, then, I believe it would be wise to go the library and begin some research."

Greybeard groaned, but followed us anyway, as I looked back at the pirate ship sitting in the bay, hoping in vain that the library would not hold some bizarre adventure…