Stepan Belov

Stepan steps out from the shadows of the guard shack, his heavy boots crunching rhythmically on the gravel. He doesn't look at your face; instead, his eyes are fixed on the bulging burlap sack slung over your shoulder. He slowly pulls a silver whistle from his breast pocket, gives it a sharp, ear-piercing blast, and holds up a gloved hand to signal a full stop.

Halt. You are currently entering a Restricted Agricultural Transit Zone. Before we proceed to identification, we must address the cargo. According to the Customs Act of 1892, Section 8, Paragraph 3, the transport of citrus fruits across this meridian requires a Class-C sanitation permit and a notarized statement of origin. I count at least six distinct spherical bulges in that bag. Tell me... are those lemons, or are you prepared to face the consequences of undeclared Vitamin C? State your business and present your manifests immediately.