Laurence ran for his life as the hobo with the shotgun came for him. He kept his hands in his pockets to prevent any cash from falling out while screaming for help. As usual, his kidneys ached under the exertion, hampering his attempts to outrun the hobo, who was surprisingly fit. Laurence passed a street, narrowly avoiding being hit by a car as the hobo closed in. He glanced around in every direction hoping for a cop before he remembered he had unmarked cash in his pockets.
He ducked into an alley and sprinted to the end, where he could see a restaurant. Laurence didn't believe that the hobo would enter a restaurant with a shotgun. Laurence ran out of breath and blacked out for a millisecond, stopping his momentum and allowing the hobo to catch up. Before he could start moving again, the hobo hit the middle of his shoulder blades with the shotgun barrel. Laurence collapsed at the hit and tried to get up, but the shotgun barrel was aimed at his face.
Laurence was used to guns being pointed at him by now and tried to stomach the glaring pain in his shoulder blades. "Don't shoot, you can have the cash.", said Laurence swiftly. It was one thing dying and having his body hidden, and another thing dying but in public from a shotgun. He got a good look at the hobo's face. A thick layer of greying untrimmed facial hair and two deep-set eyes stared at him. "Do not try to fool me, I have hunted your kind for decades, prepare to die free mason." countered the hobo.
It was at this point that Laurence realized who the man was. He was schizophrenic and probably ran away from the asylum he was in. Years on the internet had taught him how to deal with them. "I'm not a freemason, I'm a freeman, the freemason is in the other block.", said Laurence, making things up on the spot. The hobo raised his eyebrow and pondered this new information. "Which lodge?" asked the Hobo. "North Pacific.", replied Laurence, hoping it was indeed a real Freemason lodge. The hobo nodded and backed away.
"Whatever the case, I'm going to need to bring you in for questioning and registration. Can't have an unregistered individual walking around. Resist, and I'll blow your skull open." said the Hobo before lending Laurence a hand. Deciding to wing it, Laurence grabbed Hobo's gloved hand and pulled himself up. "Thanks, but I need to be making some stops, how long will it take?" asked Laurence, choosing to play along with the hobo until he could find a taxi. The hobo didn't reply but gestured for Laurence to start walking before him.
Laurence complied, glancing behind himself now and then to confirm the hobo was still behind him. The hobo lead him into a construction zone before taking a right. A downward ramp appeared, and the hobo nudged him down. At the end of the ramp was a dark tunnel. Laurence looked back at the hobo who had an expectant look on his face. "Well, go on down, we're almost there." said the Hobo suspiciously. Laurence wondered if he'd be murdered in the darkness. Probably, replied a dark voice in his head.
Laurence hesitated but entered the tunnel when the Hobo pointed the shotgun at his back again. He slowly walked in the darkness, unaware the Hobo was still there. Now and then, he would pause and wait for the hobo to tell him to keep moving. The echo of his voice bounced off the walls, taking on an eerie tone.
Occasionally, his feet would land in a puddle, causing unsettling cold as his socks were wet. The tunnel seemed to go on forever until Laurence saw a dim light ahead. He sped up and briskly walked towards it all while preparing to dash if the Hobo decided now would be a good time to kill him. He stepped into another puddle, this one being deeper than most and almost fell. His entire foot was submerged in what he hoped was just muddy water and not sewage.
"Keep moving, we're here." said the Hobo before passing Laurence and walking into the light. Laurence followed. The light disoriented him but his eyes adjusted. At the end of the tunnel was a collection of dumpsters, with each having a large LED light shining. "Welcome to my abode, step into the orange one." said the Hobo before directing Laurence to the smallest dumpster.
The orange dumpster in question was the smallest of the five. It was covered in graffiti and had a doorway sawed into it. Laurence noticed that the ground had changed from the concrete of the tunnel to a mix of dirt and gravel. He walked over to the orange dumpster and passed through the doorway. The dumpster's interior was the size of a medium-sized car, with a desk made of discarded planks and two foldable chairs. Laurence had spotted what seemed to be a TV in a green dumpster.
The hobo entered in after Laurence and motioned for him to take the seat in front of the desk. The chair groaned under his weight but remained stable. The hobo passed the desk and sat down before moving his hands under the desk to pull out a light blue notebook and a pencil. "Now then, let's get registration over with. State your affiliation if any, fraternity relations, and region of activity." said the Hobo patiently while opening the notebook and preparing to write.
"What about my name?" asked Laurence jokingly. "Don't worry I'll be finding that out from your wallet, which I recommend you give to me peacefully." responded the Hobo, gesturing to the shotgun strapped to his side. Laurence reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, which thankfully only had fifty dollars. "Laurence Vidi, Italian by origin?" read the Hobo after pulling out his driver's license. "Five generations ago.", answered Laurence.
"Associated with any priesthoods, knighthoods, lodges, towers?" asked the Hobo while writing something down, presumably his name and "origin". "Not that I know of.", answered Laurence awkwardly. "Any relatives with such associations?" continued the Hobo. "Not that I know of.", repeated Laurence. "Region of activity?", asked the Hobo. "Central, eastern, and northern Avencourt.", replied Laurence. "Right, we're done with that." said the Hobo while stuffing Laurence's driving license back into his wallet.
Laurence's mood perked up until the Hobo pulled the fifty dollars out and pocketed them. "That's the registration fee, which means you now have some perks." explained the Hobo nonchalantly before getting serious. "Now then, what about the freemason?" asked the Hobo grimly. Laurence's brain short-circuited as he drew up a plausible story. "I saw him meeting an elderly woman and handing her a package, he was wearing a grey suit with a sky blue tie." lied Laurence, feeling relieved when the Hobo nodded at his story and started writing again.
"What did he look like, any notable facial features?" questioned the Hobo eagerly. "He had a sharp nose and light brown eyes, with a full beard.", said Laurence illustrating a made-up man whom he would later learn was real. The Hobo energetically scribbled in the notebook before turning it to face Laurence. "Is this him?", asked the Hobo. The sketch was surprisingly accurate to the mental image he'd made up, and thus he nodded.
The Hobo burst into laughter before mumbling to himself. Laurence got up and exited the dumpster, hoping the Hobo would forget about him. He managed to reach the tunnel before the Hobo called out for him. He came out of the dumpster with a burner phone which he handed to Laurence. "The burner has info on the perks you have, and if you see the freemason again, tell me." said the Hobo before gesturing for him to fuck off.
"How do I get back to the surface?" asked Laurence. The Hobo froze before laughing at him. Laurence realized that if he went through the tunnel, he'd be back. He felt embarrassed and decided to leave immediately. He waved at the Hobo before jogging into the tunnel, thinking he'd be out in a few minutes at most.
Instead, it took him half an hour to find his way out, with him frequently losing direction. Once he got out, he left the construction site and called a taxi. He still had cash on him and needed to make the wire. He'd lost an hour because of this, and with the deadline approaching he needed to rush. The taxi driver arrived swiftly and was once again the Irish man. Laurence directed him to drive to the ATM outside John and Sons and then to his apartment.
Laurence risked it and deposited two thousand dollars in one go, deciding if he was caught, he'd just move to the Balkans. Outside his apartment, he found a small parcel containing a corporate card and details for the checking account. He entered his apartment and stocked up on cash and set up some transactions before heading out. He had an hour.
The rush that followed proved to be a bit too much for his mental state. The anxiety grated at him as he watched the clock tick. He managed twenty thousand dollars by breaking his previous rules and depositing one thousand per account. For the corporate checking account, he directly deposited five thousand. Laurence returned to his apartment exhausted, collapsing on the couch before pulling himself up to finish the transactions. As he finished up, he heard the door of his apartment open.
"Wait! Just a few more seconds it's almost ready!" screamed Laurence at John who appeared in the doorway with a gun drawn. John shut the door before slowly making his way to Laurence who was aggressively typing on his laptop. Laurence confirmed the wire just as John's Glock butted against his temple. Laurence closed his eyes and hoped it would be painless. The gun never fired.