Overwatch Shipping Novels & Stories

Kane leaned back in his chair, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "So. The shipment arrives next Thursday. Twenty containers, just like we discussed. The customs paperwork is already handled, everything is clean, everything is ready to move." "Good." Anna took a sip of her own drink. "And the distribution?" "All set up. We have buyers lined up in six different cities. Once the product hits the warehouse, we can have it moved within forty-eight hours. No delays, no complications."

With everyone stockpiling arms and increasing security, Vitalio would have no idea who was actually holding Arabella. Mikah bowed before continuing his report. "Our new shipment of weapons has sold out.' "Place an order for a new one. We will make crazy sales with this pseudo pack war that everyone is gearing up for." "I already have, Alpha however the border security has increased in the past month, we might not be able to move them as easily as before." I waved away his concerns. "I'll put a call across to some people. Just get the merchandise in place in time." "Yes, Alpha."

“Hello?” “You asked me to keep an eye on the movements of Devereaux Botanicals,” the voice said without inflection. It was scrambled to keep their identity a secret. “They just received a large shipment from another Warhammer port. The packing slip was non-lethal and a larger quantity than usual.” I narrowed my eyes, “It arrived by a truck?” “By plane.”

Mikal read some reports on his iPad and chose to talk about business to top the conversation about… his family. "ElWagner wouldn't get in the way of shipping if we didn't interfere with their business." Lionel pointed out the line of business that ElWagner Clan shipping goes through, “they control Canada, so almost all of the shipments will be centralized from Canada. We can ship to the United States without going through Canada." Mikael nodded, “Do as you planned. I want you to lead the delivery this time.” "Or if you want something more secure, you can call Rafael Wagner and report our shipment."

I said, spreading the photos across the metal surface, "we can provide exactly what your people need." Miles picked up one of the photographs—an AK-47 variant modified for desert warfare. "Quality?" "Impeccable. Every piece is tested and verified." "Timeline?" "Two weeks for the first shipment. Monthly deliveries after that, assuming we can agree on terms." He nodded, studying the specifications with professional interest. But I could see the calculation in his eyes, the assessment of whether I was still the man he'd heard stories about. Whether Alessandro De Luca was still someone to be feared.

"Mr. Caldara, my name is Simon Wright. I got your number from Preston Cole." Preston Cole. The connector with the gold-lettered card and the expensive coat. I set down the sponge and lean against the counter. "What can I do for you, Mr. Wright?" "I have a problem that needs solving. People tell me you are good at solving problems." "What kind of problem?" "A shipment problem. I have merchandise sitting in a warehouse on the east side. It needs to reach a buyer in the north district by Friday. My usual people are... unavailable." "How much merchandise?"

They’re both suspicious of this supposed friend of our father’s, who has always been an ally but never bothered to show up. Where was he when all hell broke loose? Better yet—where was he before? When we needed him, someone, anyone, to step in and put Kostya back in his place? “I’m all ears.” I nod at Sofi to start taking notes. Only an idiot wouldn’t be able to pick up on our suspicion, and Arlo is clearly not an idiot. He eyes us with a warmth I’m not entirely comfortable with and nods. “We have five warehouses Stateside with weapons and ammunition we’re eager to offload. All new, all verified and tested, all ready to hand over to you for half the markup you’re getting from these other sup

A heavy AK-47 hung from his shoulder, and a cigar glowed between his fingers. “Welcome, boss,” he said, bowing slightly. “We have been expecting you.” The thick smoke from his cigar curled into the air as he spoke. “How many are ready to be shipped?” I asked, my tone flat but firm. “Nine, boss,” Scar replied without hesitation. “We already washed and dressed them. We will send them to Lurkwoods the moment you give the order.” I gave a slow nod. “Let me see them. Have them queue up right in front of me.”

Then he nodded and left the room. I answered the call and said, "Speak." Manager Shank said, "Boss I am calling you to tell you that tomorrow we have a shipment and we need more guards this time. We will receive it at 2 am in the morning." I replied, "Get our most skilled fighters to guard this. We are already at a loss." Manager Shank replied, "Yes boss, we are very careful about tomorrow's shipment delivery and I am also going to be there." I replied, "Anything else?"

If I didn’t deliver on time, they’d start looking elsewhere. And that wasn’t going to happen. Marco sat across from me, relaxed in a way that made my patience even thinner. "Anything yet?" He shook his head. "Still nothing." I held the glass tighter, then deliberately loosened my fingers. I didn’t want to break the glass. It had been a birthday gift from Sofia. "I want updates every five minutes. If that shipment isn’t here soon, I’ll be the one handling it myself." Marco didn’t argue. He just nodded, watching as I downed the rest of my drink and set the empty glass on the desk with a dull thud.