Pokemon Shipping Names Novels & Stories

Noah's_wifey DUDE, REALLY? I_love_my_mommy LET'S MAKE IT EASY FOR WILL, GUYS. WILL, DO YOU KNOW WHAT SHIPS AND SHIPNMES ARE? Will_the_devil ...NO? Yes_you_suck YES! WE SHOULD TOTALLY GIVE THEM A SHIPNAME. I_pooped EW, GUYS, STOP. TIME TO DISOWN ALL OF YOU. Will_the_devil WAIT A SEC, WHAT'S YOUR NAME PEASANT? I_pooped OH, MY NAME IS PEASANT. HAVEN'T YOU LEARNT ANYTHING FROM THAT CAMPAIGN?

I could feel the heat radiating from his broad shoulders, and I knew my presence tortured him. "This is the main server portal," Kade began, turning the silver laptop so we both had a clear view of the bright screen. He typed a long string of numbers into the password box. "We use a legitimate international shipping logistics company to mask the movement of our private cargo. On the surface, the company transports heavy machinery and commercial textiles across Europe and North America." "And underneath the surface?" I asked, keeping my tone professional and detached.

Another message, this time from an unknown number: [Why is my package delayed? I expect my shipment in two days, or there will be trouble, Alpha Barron.]

A baby hippo with a pink bow. Cuteness had never been so efficient. The crates were sleek custom-fitted. Each one held twenty stuffed animals, their softness perfectly preserved despite what they carried. The crates were triple-lined and labeled with international cargo codes. No scan would show anything but foam and fabric. “Trackers?” I asked. Baron nodded. “Already sewn into four random toys in each crate. GPS pings every 11 minutes, shifts location every 23.” I scanned the data on my iPad — live signals blinking softly over a map that stretched from Miami to the coast of Marseille to Italy.

"Whatever, old man. So now that I'm here, mind telling me what the heck is going on?" "I thought I elucidated myself in the text I sent you." Sasha rolled her eyes. "Oh, because that was so helpful. The one you sent this morning was, ÔKilled unknown fledgling. Acquired two wolves. Need clothing for female and male. Bring ASAP.'" "You know how I dislike relaying too much via text. Anyone can read them." "I know, oh paranoid one. Big brother is watching, blah, blah, blah. But seriously, how do you expect me to figure shit out? I mean, look at the one you sent after you got up. ÔGhoul attack. Need book and weapons.'"

Alpha Ulric pulls out his laptop, and even though I just want to do nothing but rest right now, I still move closer when he asks me to. I’m wearing his shirt. I’m getting some ground in his heart. “This is Kratos shipping. They’re one of the largest courier services, and they ship most of Highrise PLC’s products to the wider world. Last week, we sent a shipment worth a few million dollars to them. That shipment should leave in a few days.” I nod because I know Kratos shipping. Sophia always made sure we used them, they charged less, and they don’t carry out a lot of too-thorough checks, in case Alpha Ulric had done something to the goods.

Or pack business that could wait until normal hours. I had the sinking feeling it was about to change far more than just my night. "The shipment is on time. Patrick is expecting them to clear his pack around 3:00 A.M." "Fantastic," Dad said, clearly pleased. "How many this time?" "Twenty-five. Premium quality that'll rake in the money. Joshua and Thatcher are both looking for new toys." Twenty-five what? And why did the phrase "new toys" make my skin crawl? I didn't know what shipment they were talking about, but I had a sickening feeling that premium quality wasn't referring to merchandise…

The pirate leader sneered and said, “Don’t worry. There will definitely be plenty of good things in it. There might even be a batch of Porsche sports cars!” Another soldier next to him hurriedly said, “Boss, that cargo ship is heading to Europe from Oskia, but Porsche is made in Europe. So, the probability of a Porsche being on that cargo ship is basically almost zero.” The pirate leader slapped him across the face and cursed, “D*mn it! Did I ask you to talk so much?! Do you think that you’re the only one who knows that much?!” The soldier who had been slapped took a few steps back immediately and lowered his head with an aggrieved look on his face.

I’d seen it somewhere before, it was not in a file, not in a report, but on something real. Then I remembered. The night at the docks. The crates. The markings. The same name had been stenciled on the side of one of the containers, bold white letters over dark steel: Serenity Shipping Co. That was the night I’d first seen the human cargo. Bound. Terrified. Hidden under false manifests and export permits. And now, it all made sense. Powell’s name had been nowhere in the paperwork. He was too careful for that. But Dunne’s name had been buried in one of the subsidiary documents, under a shell company registered in Panama.

It started with a name. Not the company name, not the driver’s name, and not the registered owner Daniel Reyes, but another name that appeared in the documents connected to shipping permits and customs clearances, a name that appeared only a few times but always connected to shipments that were slightly delayed, slightly rerouted, or slightly modified before reaching their final destination. The name was Adrian Voss. Marco was the one who first said it out loud while looking at one of the printed documents spread across the office table. “Who the hell is Adrian Voss?” Marco asked, tapping the paper with his finger.