The water that bordered Michigan helped to carry a variety of liquor and items down from Canada. Detroit became a hub for shipping and receiving during this age of prohibition. If somebody needed something to be shipped or they were even in the market for some black market goods, Scamander's Contraband was the place to go. Obviously only those connected with the criminal element had any idea this was the true nature of the business. If you were the unaware civilian you would just pass by a large shipping filled with buildings and labeled with a sign stating...

Baby Blue Shipping Incorporated

You decide today that you want to see how you can use the waterways and lakes to assist in your acquisition of more cash. As you drive up to the front gate of Scamander's Contraband you are stopped by a guard in a security uniform. As you look past him you can see two men wearing suits and fedoras listening to the radio. You could even spot the stock of a thompson sub-machine gun. 

"What can I do you for today?" The security officer inquired.

You put the car in park before responding, "I'm here to inquire about the services that are available through this shipping company."

The security officer looks down at his clipboard and then over his shoulder at the two men who were now paying a bit more attention to you than the radio broadcast. He fumbled with his pencil and the paper underneath before finally responding.

"Uh....well Baby Blue Shipping Incorporated doesn't really have an open door policy. You should have called the main office to inquire about their services. Plus, most people who know why they are here would have started by giving me a name..." He slowly stopped talking as the sweat built on his forehead.

The two men in suits were now standing and staring at you. One of them could be seen slowly reaching for the tommy gun. Before he could grasp it another car pulled up and parks behind you. The car shuts off and another man wearing a nice suit gets out and begins to walk towards the passenger side of your car. 

"Oh, sir. Sorry for the inconvenience. I was just about to turn this car away. We'll get them out of the..." The guards voice was even more panicky at this point, but the new person motioned for him to stop talking. 

The man only referenced to as 'sir' made his way to the passenger side door and opened it. You flinched at the sudden change in the situation now. The man takes a seat next to you and removes his hat. His blue suit is of good quality, although it looks a bit worn out. Clearly a man who was very busy and did not care about updating his attire too often. 

He smiled and closed the car door, "Don't worry boys. I recognize this one. They won't be on the list, but I'll take care of them. Here are my keys. Go park my car by the office and if you need me I will be showing our guest around."

You're unsure of what is going on and just look at the man with confusion, "I....so...I'm not being turned away?"

The man chuckled and shook his head, "No. You are not. My name is Newt Scamander. I own this business front. I'm sure you're here for our secondary business though. Take your car out of park and head on in. Go to the big building in the back. That is where we want to go to discuss whatever it is you may need from us."

You listen and begin driving the car into the shipping yard...

As you close your car door you can hear boats and men shouting as they unload cargo in a timely manner. It sounds and looks like a legit business. A clear benefit of using their services. You quickly follow behind Mr. Scamander as he heads inside the building.

"So, this is our main hub for shipping things that may not be too welcome here in the United States. Whether it be liquor, guns, jewels, or whatever else you may need shipped into the country. A lot less likely of having your cargo stolen or 'go missing' coming through Canada compared to either of the coasts." He said as he lit a cigar and leaned up against a large wooden box.

"Looks like a well oiled machine..." You say as you spin around looking throughout the large warehouse.

Newt smiled as he puffed a few more times on his cigar, "So, what can we do you for? Need some liquor? Need us to ship something?"

Time to get down to business...

It was the big day....or at least the big day for his boss Gimpanzee. Just business as usual for Newt here at the docks and in his warehouses. Every month they got a big shipment for the Gimp himself and today was that day. He always made sure to keep this delivery on time no matter what the weather or fed situation was. His connections in Canada sometimes thought he was being a bit dramatic about this particular shipment, but they didn't know his boss.

"Hey! Be careful with that! It'll be you beaten to a bloody pulp if any of that cargo gets damaged!" He yelled at one of his workers as they hurried to get everything off the ship. 

Just as he made a few more notes on his clipboard he could hear a vehicle pulling up behind him. It had to be his boss showing up to see the goods....

"Hey boss! You're a bit early. We're almost done getting it all off the ship and then it'll eventually get on a truck to headquarters and a couple of our speakeasies in Corktown." He smirked.

Gimpanzee looked at him without saying a word and Newt knew he had to show that the products were safe and sound. So he picked up a crowbar and made his way over to a few of the closest boxes. It took a good bit of force, but he got the lid off of two of the boxes. 

"See boss, your bananas, liquor for the HQ, and the liquor for our speakeasies. It's all on schedule and unharmed during the voyage." He pointed at the contents inside the boxes.

Hello again sir.

I'm expecting a shipment of...............beverages from Scotland. All legal and above board but I would like to skip the red tape if you know what I mean.

How would you like a steak meal and fine single malt on me?

After Kafka opened his antique store, he realised that he kept running out of reliable transporters. That point was accentuated all the more as he ground the heel of his shoe on the hand of the latest piece of disappointment -- a businessman who talked big and promised even bigger, but ended up bungling things so badly that it would take him a LOT of work to undo the damage. Not to mention plenty of bribes and the promising of favours to the greasy officials behind the scenes. Ignoring the way the man was screaming out, Kafka turned to look at an associate nearby who was, at this point, trying not to throw up. Or cry. Or both.

"Well, that's the last time I trust a civilian with a job like this. You said you knew of a good service? I hope you're a good judge of this sort of this, at least, because you sure as shit have no fuckin' clue how to actually do it," he asked the man in a quiet tone. Ten minutes and quite a few more screams later, he walked out of the abandoned warehouse, accepting a handkerchief that a bodyguard offered him. They began heading in the direction of a new shipping company, one which was run by someone in the same line of business.

That made Kafka feel a bit more confident. The mafia had, after all, gotten smuggling down to an art form. And the government really only made a point to check for the obvious contraband such as liquor. His antiquities business shouldn't prove to be too much of a challenge for someone with skill in running a transportation business. And perhaps there was a mutual business opportunity to be had as well -- his shipments would be a great way to hide other contraband. Officials usually couldn't make heads or tails of antiquities and thus chose to leave them alone for the most part. 

 As they neared the security gate of the company, Kafka sent ahead a bodyguard to ask Security if Newt_Scamander was around, and that he had some business to discuss with him.

Newt had clearly been stuck in such deep thoughts and he finally shook loose of them when he heard Ron_Swanson speak up about having a shipment coming into Detroit. He stretched and cleared his throat before taking a few steps in his direction. The warehouse was getting busier these days with his own side businesses picking up and creating the need for storage. 

"We can definitely help you with your legal beverages sir. NoRedTape is my middle name for future reference when you need a shipment to come into Detroit." He smirked as he started to jot down some notes on his clipboard. 

Workers carrying some crates came through and the two men stepped aside to avoid being in the way. It was a dangerous some days to be out on the floor depending on how busy they were. 

"Why don't you follow me to my office and we can discuss that steak, single malt, and legal beverages?" He motioned for Ron_Swanson to follow him.

Huh, this place was a bit weird, stepping through the place with Scamander looking at him, waiting for the answer as the truck had not exactly been filled to the brim with Cocaine, soon enough, he would have to find a few drivers who wished to make a little cash with him. This kind of money was not something that people would simply let go through their territory, shaking his head...that was not the point right now as he looked at the man with risen brow, he did know why he was here, right?

"Hey wait a minute, you do remember the deal we had right, Newt_Scamander? The product is coming through her and I've already made the calls. This is happening, right now. They'll be here soon, the Madrina and from there, well, we'll have to load up the trucks. I hope you still want this man, cause...this is not the only truck coming here."

He made a few calls, and they all knew where they were heading, he needed to get this product out onto the streets but where was the one question that was hammering at him. He wished to make a few deals, yet branching out, right now? He needed to speak with his contacts in Chicago where some of this product would be going. Time and monies were going in for this, they were all looking to earn SOMETHING and that's what mattered in the end. 

Walking a way's away, he leaned against the truck as he found that right now, it was the waiting that made him realize this kind of thing could not happen. Looking at Newt, he seemed much more...relaxed from before. Though he had not been involved with the game  like him, making money in other ways, as he said, booze and other operations made him enough. 

He wondered, was the life of being a distro of Detroit one that would make him a target? It did already, with Ally and her business, something that was still so ripe in his mind. Protecting her to the end, moments where it seemed like this would not simply come to an end with a single bang. No, that had taken time and it was not something he was forgetting for a while. 

"Newt, you ever wonder-"

He didn't finish that sentence, the doubt that had risen up in, for one little thing. These jobs, they may have been something like this that had dragged him into a world that he had no business being in. It was something that he couldn't walk away from, his hands now had blood on them, his reputation as a great basketball was in the gutter...

"Never mind, it was silly..."

He was young, yes. Only right now, the way he was going and how he had spoken of the dedication earlier in the bar. Sometimes, the moment where he had learned that his friend had been killed, his associate and long-time friend had been killed. This life, it held some perks, it held a lot of...pleasure and the forms of being able to live like a king. Yet it held a dull blade that plunged deep into your gut soon after.

Looking at Newt for another moment, the man seemed like he had held it all together. Only he had to wonder, was all of that an act? At one point, at some moment, had he been like him at one moment? Had he been the one to become this way? Maybe, he didn't know the truth at some point but Newt couldn't have always been this way. He smiled at moments, he clearly had a time when he allowed himself to enjoy the life for what it was. 

Scoffing, maybe it was just him and the doubts of him being able to achieve something here. All he knew was that the time was here, he could prove himself, he was ready and nothing was going to be stopping from providing the food for himself and his loved ones. Like he unsheathed his sword, he held it out as if proclaiming that nothing was going to stop him and that is exactly what would happen...he hoped at the very least.