Warehouse Number 31 [Erzsébet]

[Marko Iliev]

When the Inventor refused to answer to him again, and merely continued hammering a nail into the top of the contraption, it didn’t serve to make Marko’s bad mood any better. “Fine, fine, go ahead.” He said curtly to the woman, looking over at her again. “There’s nothing out of the ordinary in there.” Well, nothing he could recall, anyway.

Following her to the office door, he gave the Inventor another over the shoulder scowl as he gave her a short reply, “That won’t be necessary.” He’d deal with the Inventor, were he to refuse to move any longer, in his own manner, but he decided to keep the details of that to himself.

It wasn’t until he stepped into the back room after her that he remembered something crucial - something exceedingly crucial, actually. When he realised, after having spotted the worn old rug in the middle of the room, it hit him like a ton of bricks. Underneath the rug was a trapdoor, behind which was a small hole in the floor where he’d stashed a box of antiques a couple of years back. And not just any antiques - they were antique weaponry he’d won, by sheer luck, in a poker game. They might have fetched a good price if he were to sell them, he’d thought originally. Instead, he’d put them down the trap door there and never thought about them again until then. How could he have been so stupid as to have forgotten about that?

And, knowing the military, if this woman found a box of old weapons, be they artefacts or not, she was going to jump to the wrong conclusions. Inwardly cringing, and trying not to appear as frantic as he was, Marko stepped over to the rug as she examined the desk, standing on the rug right above the trap door, intent to stay glued to the spot. “No. Nothing else about it at all.” He lied.

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The man's sudden move behind her wasn't lost on Erzsébet; she stared at him sharply from the corner of her eye, noting how he had gone from irritated to slightly jumpy the minute she had closed the bottom drawer.

Her frown became a bit more pronounced as she straightened and turned to face him, noting with slight irritation that she only reached about his shoulder. (She didn't mind her height, really, it just became annoying to have to look up to others all the time; the last thing she needed were neck problems, after all.) She would have preferred it if he had stayed back a few feet, but then, the fact he had gotten so close at all signalled to her that something wasn't quite right.

She studied his face briefly; there weren't any obvious signs that he was nervous or edgy, but there were a few clues. The sudden closure of distance, the way he seemed impatient to have her out of the room (not that he hadn't been before, but it was definitely more pronounced now) by glancing at her and back at the door, the fact he was standing straight in the middle of the rug, precisely the thing she had wanted to move, just the way he had answered her... She sighed inwardly.

Either he was starting to crack and his earlier calmness had been bravado, or he had remembered something at the sight of the room last minute that may or may not incriminate him, but as it stood, things weren't going to be smooth sailing from this point, she just knew. It was just a shame Eric and Les weren't here with her. (They were probably done by now too, damn it all.)

"Even if that's the case, sir, I'm going to have to ask you to move so I can check under the carpet." Lord help her, she really hoped for his sake and both of their time that there were only floorboards underneath and that whatever had made him nervous wasn't anything important if there did turn out to be something after all.

"Just to make sure there isn't any trapdoor or something like that beneath. It might sound ridiculous, but it has happened before, and if there is anything there, best you tell me now, alright?" Her tone was neutral, as it had been from the beginning, but the manner in which she spoke translated the warning she was giving him as plainly as possible in so little words: Fess up now and save yourself more trouble than necessary.

Granted, she figured most of the other men outside of her squad weren't as lenient as her when it came to searches and finding potentially incriminating material in one's house, so maybe he was jumpy due to a previous search that hadn't gone over particularly well. However, she knew better than to say she was willing to believe someone had forgotten there was something risky in their home or that they legitimately didn't know they had it; for one, she had seen that trick pulled too many times to count, and for another, she didn't want civilians thinking the army was going soft or that she was soft just because she happened to be female. If her superiors ever caught wind of her pulling stunts like this...

No, her position was definitely her priority; she kept her expression serious and somewhat stern, waiting for a reply before trying anything: She would give him a chance to come clean himself before throwing accusations, but nothing more.

[Marko Iliev]

Oh, she was on to him. He’d gotten ahead of himself and probably made it blindingly obvious when he’d moved onto the rug after all. He glanced downwards, then back at the woman, then shifted his wait on his feet. For a moment, he paused to think of what to do next. Then, he took two easy steps backwards off the rug, staring her in the eyes.

He cleared his throat, and shrugged up his hands a bit. “Actually, yes. There’s a trap door under here.” He leaned down, shuffling further back and tugging on the edge of the rug until the edge of the break in the floor was just visible. “See? It’s pretty unsightly, that’s why I put a rug down. Happy with that?” He asked her, rather sardonically, quickly covering the trap door back up. He knew she wanted to look underneath, but he figured that giving an off-hand and assertive response was at least worth a shot. He also wasn’t appreciative of her own tone of voice, but then again, he was never appreciative of much the army did. The poor woman was just doing her job, he supposed it was unfortunate for her she had to check over a warehouse belonging to an undercover Ruthien. Not that there was anything in there to incriminate him as one; the antiques beneath the floor were an unrelated matter, but that didn’t mean he was still happy to reveal something that the military would find, knowing them, illegal.

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It took a great deal of effort to prevent her lips from twisting into a wry smile at his response. Erzsébet calculated the situation quickly: On the one hand, he had told her upfront what she had wanted to know which, all things considered, greatly improved his situation. But the fact he seemed eager to usher her out of the room without a look, on the other hand, confirmed that what lay below was most likely less than savoury. Probably nothing serious (at least, she hoped it wasn't), but nonetheless problematic.

"You know, even if it's just a porn stash hidden away in there," she began, an eyebrow slightly raised and hints to an amused smile sneaking its way across her mouth, "I still need to verify the contents of that trapdoor, if any."

Oh, that was ridiculously unprofessional, she knew, but the other men often cracked jokes like that when doing their searches and she really, really hoped that would be all she would find. (She doubted that though; the room was much too dreary even for simple self-pleasuring, in her opinion. Not that that generally mattered, but still.) At the very least, she hoped to somewhat ease the tension that hung between them, but she had a feeling that her comment wouldn't achieve the desired effect.

"I understand you may not be comfortable revealing what's hidden away to me," she continued, her expression softening somewhat (just a bit, enough that she didn't look too imposing but still stern) as she stared back at him, "But the fact you even told me about it will greatly help your case if I find anything untoward in there."

Erzsébet paused, giving him a brief moment to let that sink in before she added, "That is, if you don't cause me any trouble and make your situation harder on yourself." One side of her mouth couldn't help but curl up into something that wasn't quite a smile, but couldn't really be defined as a grimace. She was willing to help him out if he proved to be just a bit more helpful, but she wouldn't hesitate to pay him in kind if he decided to be a dick about the whole thing, even if she did take his obvious dislike to the army into account for his behaviour.

[Marko Iliev]

Porn. Right. As embarrassing as that would have been, he wished that was what was actually down there. At least that wouldn't really have been considered illegal, by any standards. Not appreciating her joke particularly in that respect, he released another disgruntled sigh, and tugged the rug wholly away again. "Fine. You wanna see what's under here? I'll show you." He didn't want to comply with her, but nor was playing dumb - which usually happened to work quite well for him - going to get him anywhere. It wasn't going to get the military woman out of his warehouse, that was for sure; she wasn't going to be leaving until he showed her beneath the trap door. And knowing the military, there might have also been nasty consequences if he didn't... He wasn't prepared for such circumstances.

After throwing the rug to one side of the room, Marko leaned down and pulled on the handle of the trap door, heaving it open with a creak. It was dark below, but the faint outlines of the boxes inside were visible from where he stood, the polished edges of the metal antiques glinting a little in what poor light there was. He glanced down, before staring back at the woman again, visibly unimpressed.

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Erzsébet's expression was sober as she stared down at the content inside the small enclave under the floor. No wonder he had been so reluctant to reveal any of this to her; even if these were just old swords and posed no real threat, seeing as the military was equipped with rifles and other guns, they were still unreported weapons stashed away in an old warehouse inside the city.

"I'm going to need your name, age, status, and a reason for why you didn't inform anyone that you had these stowed away." She crouched down beside him, gazing down at the dully glinting blades, trying to count how many there were. "Any other information, you can tell me along the way back to headquarters."

She looked up at him, mouth set in a small frown, wary for any sudden and potentially violent reaction, her hand ready to spring to the small pistol at her side just in case. "And before you fly off the handle," she added, wanting to at least soothe him slightly before he overreacted, "This isn't going to cause you too much of a problem. Maybe two or three weeks in a cell if you can't pay bail unless your interrogation goes badly. Nothing serious."

Erzsébet knew this was probably not what people expected someone from the military to say, but unlike some of the assholes found in her ranks, she liked to think of herself as being reasonable and fair when dealing with the citizens of her country. She wasn't one to just go accusing everyone she came across, nor did she feel like scaring the poor man out of his wits for no reason when she knew the consequences weren't all that terrible. Well, in regards to the worst that could happen, anyway.

There was a chance this man potentially was a Ruthien, but even if that were to be the case, that would mean absolutely nothing here since she knew from experience that there's not much anyone can do with a sword when facing a gun. And besides, judging on the designs on the handle of the sabre closest to her, these things were old. At worse, he had intended to sell them for a pretty price to some unsuspecting collector or Noble and get them out of his hair without any authority figures meddling into his business.

Shame about that, really. The army would probably have to confiscate these, now, depending on who was manning the "questionable" material today and if felt like bringing them home instead of including them in the inventory.

"I'm even willing to man the interrogation process myself, for what that's worth, if you decide to be cooperative." Lord, she hoped he wouldn't do anything stupid now, though she doubted he would really understand how much of a favour she was offering him at this moment. She would be willing to cut him some slack (if he didn't prove to be a complete asshole), unlike some of the others.

[Marko Iliev]

“You’re arresting me?” He snorted, narrowing his eyes as he gave her a contemptuous look. The way he said it, it almost sounded - to him - like he was about to follow it up with ‘do you know who I am?’. But he didn’t. He stood up straight, folding his arms across his chest. “You see, I thought when I decided to be cooperative with you, you’d be willing to overlook what is basically a pile of junk.” A pile of junk that might have been worth a good amount of Florins, but a pile of junk nonetheless.

She seemed to be talking in a way that she thought was fair. No amount of telling him ‘it’s nothing serious’ or ‘it won’t cause you too much of a problem’ was going to make him any happier. “What would you gain out of interrogating me?” He gave another brief glance back down the trap door. “I’ll answer your questions here and now.” There were several risks associated with him being taken to the military headquarters. It was no one’s idea of a place to spend an afternoon; the military themselves probably thought the same, but Marko had his Ruthien identity and underground links to consider. Being taken in for a different crime would be like walking straight into the lion’s den. There were officers there who could possibly link him to certain Ruthien activity... Possibly? Probably. Most of them were assholes enough to do that. In particular, if a certain officer under the name Cvetkovic was around the headquarters, he’d probably be accused on the spot.

“My name is Marko Iliev.” He told her, giving her a frown. “Marko Veselinov Kamenov Markov Iliev, according to the government census.” He had two options now - one was to remain as calm as possible and cooperate entirely with her, the other... Was to do the entire opposite. How unfortunate for him that this officer was a woman; had it been a man, a hefty smack over the head with the blunt end of one of the swords would be enough to end this conversation. “I’m twenty-five, a Noble, and my reason for not informing anyone of the stash? I forgot it was there.” That wasn’t a lie, to an extent, at least.

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It would be a self-important, pompous bastard she had to find herself dealing with, Erzsébet noted flatly. By all accounts, she really should have gotten used to it by now, but it never ceased being tedious to encounter. And the guy was a noble, of freaking course. 'Luck is with me today, it seems,' she remarked sarcastically to herself. What a pain in the ass.

"Yes, frankly, but this is more of a minor misdemeanour than an actual crime of any sorts." She paused again, staring directly at him with a stern expression. "Depending on who brings you in, of course. Some like to consider it a minor crime, but I personally don't think it's that big of a deal, so it's not like I'll be bringing you in too deeply or anything."

She stood up as well, back straight as before, alert and waiting for any sudden movements. "And much as I would prefer not to bring you in for something this small," she continued, giving him a pointed look, "I have my procedures to follow and I would rather keep my job than risk having this leak out. Understand?"

As much as she wanted to help this man out (though admittedly, that desire was dwindling rapidly the more he spoke), keeping her job was her topmost priority. She could let nothing risk her position; her superiors had made it quite clear that they weren't willing to put up with her more than was necessary and she didn't see the point in taking the risk to anger them more than usual.

"And the interrogation is merely more procedures, admittedly, but I'm afraid even if I ask you here, they'll most likely want to ask you again once we get there." Mostly because Collins was a dick and insisted a woman couldn't do anything right so he had to redo whatever the fuck she did 'properly'. If he weren't her superior, she would have socked him a good one a long time ago. "Though I'm willing to oblige if you insist."

At the very least, Erzsébet could appreciate that he was at least answering her preliminary questions. She gave up hoping things would go smoothly, though; he was eyeing the swords just a bit too much to her taste, his eyes flicking back to her every so often.

"I'm willing to believe that you forgot about this, but unfortunately, that's not something I can report to my superior. Hence why I'm obliged to confiscate these and bring you back to headquarters at all." She kneeled down again, keeping a wary gaze on him in her peripheral vision, as she reached down and pulled up a sword, observing it carefully, taking note of the rust that was layered on thick all over it and the blunt edges of the blade.

"Though I'm pretty sure you could build up a decent case for that, what with this looking like it hasn't seen any attention or care for over five decades. Maybe even seven." It wouldn't be good enough for some, but it was to her, not that that meant much.

However, since she wasn't going to have to bring him in too deeply inside, there shouldn't be too big a problem; he'd be kept in the outskirts of the military district, after all, with the rest of the small fry, and wouldn't have to face the higher ups who were definitely going to jump to the wrong conclusion without hesitation. Not that this would make this Iliev feel any better, she noted wryly, but it was some small compensation, all things considered.

[Marko Iliev]

So this was how it was going to be.

“Confiscate them, then.” Marko gave a heavy shrug. “But whether your job’s on the line or not, I’m not going anywhere.” Perhaps that was a selfish thing to say, but he had it in him to be plenty selfish at the worst of times. A woman losing a paying job would be unfortunate, but this was the military she was talking about, and looking at the bigger picture, he really didn’t think he gave a shit at all. “Your ‘procedures’ would be a waste of time for me, for you, and for your superiors.” Once again, his eyes glanced down at the antiques below. By now she’d been adamant about it, though, and he knew he probably wasn’t going to be let off the hook just by talking his way out of this.

“I’ll pay you the bail now, if I must.” He didn’t like throwing his money around, but for such a minor offense, the price was probably quite trivial. Just under a week’s earnings, were he to take a guess. Bluntly, he added, “If not, you’ll have to drag me out of here. Or go get backup and drag me out of here.” The latter was very unlikely - her leaving to get one or two other officers would mean Marko would have time to escape the warehouse. Having said that, she now had his full name and status. Even if he outran the military this time, they wouldn’t have trouble tracing an Iliev by name. Even if they went to his family’s house in the Noble residential district first, he was sure his father wouldn’t have any qualms in giving the military plenty of information on him. The thought gave him the creeps, and made his frown even more sour as he peered over at the woman again. “Which would waste even more of your time, might I add. Minor crime or minor misdemeanor, I don’t care what the fuck I did, I’m not going to the military base.” Well, not without a fight, anyway.

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Erzsébet wanted to heave a heavy sigh of her own at his response, but instead settled on sighing internally. She really wasn't blaming him for this, but she still prioritized her job over anything else; even if she had been a man, she wouldn't have risked letting him off the hook for this. These things had a tendency to come bite you in the ass, she knew too well. As such, a small twinge of irritation began rising in her despite her best efforts: Now was not the time to get mad, though.

"I can assure you, the only one of my superiors you'd be meeting is one rank above me." Small comfort that would be, but better than anything else, she knew. "A waste of time or not, small potatoes though this situation is, I still have to bring you in. I'd much rather let you go, but we both know that would not be a wise course of action." She regretted this fact, she really did, but she didn't trust this man enough to risk her position and everything she had worked for in the last seven years. It had taken her so long to find it; as if she would throw it away for the sake of getting into someone's good graces.

"If it's being brought into the military district that worries you, I promise you it's no further than the very outskirts," she added. As if this would make everything better and change his mind, she remarked to herself bitterly. "You're small fry, basically, and all of the nobles working in the army stay inside the centre near our main headquarters; your name is barely at risk if that's your chief worry." It probably wasn't, but she wasn't one to throw the accusation of being a Ruthian around; there were other, unrelated people who felt the same way, she knew much too well.

She let a small pause hang in the air after what he said next, instead gripping the hilt of the sabre with one hand, weighing it, trying to figure out its balance; rusty or not, it was still a pretty good sword, she had to remark. No wonder he seemed so bitter about losing them.

"As much as I'd like that to be the end of it," she answered slowly, almost tasting the words before she spoke them, "And believe me, I really do," she continued, staring straight at him, eye to eye, her expression as neutral as possible, "I can't do that. I'm afraid if dragging you is your desired course of action, then so be it."

What a shame it had to come to this; she couldn't say he was being unreasonable, because he wasn't, all things considered, but it would have been a relief if he had come quietly. She pointed the sword at him without hesitation, a wry grimace half twisting her mouth. Turning his own weapons against him, how hilarious.

"You're under arrest, as you already know," she stated calmly, the only other noise in the room the semi-muffled cries and shrieks of the Inventor's contraption. "I would have preferred it if you came quietly since that meant less trouble for the both of us, but if you continue, I'll have to add refusal to obey a figure of authority to your crimes. That's a guaranteed three weeks, even with bail."