Pulp Fiction Dead Storage Novels & Stories

The man pointed toward the mortuary wing. "We checked twice." Silence. Terrible silence. Then Fiona walked quickly toward the cold storage area. Her footsteps echoed through the corridor. One drawer after another. Rows of steel compartments. The attendant nervously opened the correct one. Fiona looked inside. And felt genuine shock. The drawer was empty. Joel Aliet's body was gone. Not moved. Not misplaced. Gone. And somewhere behind another corridor, Patricia overheard the commotion. Her heart nearly stopped. Because if Joel's body had disappeared...

Guevarra’s liposuction. “Welcome back, Ginger,” Dr. Guevarra said with a smile on her face. “Are you ready to remove your bandage and see the result of your new appearance?” “Finally! I get to see the new me literally,” Ginger said. “And Ginger had already died three months ago. It’s Lucy Solace now.” “Well, that’s a nice name, Lucy,” Dr Guevarra said while gently removing Ginger’s bandage, and once removed, she handed over a mirror to Ginger.

then he murmured, giving up the fight he knew he wouldn’t win. While he disappeared behind the swinging door, I turned toward the shop’s small window facing the alley. In the daylight, it looked almost peaceful, just a strip of cracked pavement, a few dumpsters, and a wall tagged with faded graffiti. But at night it had been something else entirely. Rafe had died there, and whoever killed him had left almost nothing behind. It was too clean, too calculated, and I couldn’t let it go without getting justice for him. When the owner returned, he held a USB drive between two fingers like it weighed more than plastic should. “This is everything from that night,” he said, pushing it into my hand. “

Chapter 69: Raymond's POV “He’s dead,” I said flatly, tapping the edge of my phone against the desk. I didn’t need to say who. Reynold already knew. The news had hit the underground channels this morning. Robertson Perez, the loyal, loud, and ultimately a liability found with two bullets in his chest was dumped like garbage near the woods. Father didn’t even look up from his tea. “Hmm.” That was it. Hmm. Like we’d lost a janitor, not a man who had nearly crushed Kane and left Caroline half-broken.

the middle aged man acknowledged my presence with a formal smile which I had no intention to return. "Leonard Elzandre bank statement two weeks before he passed away" I went straight to the point cause I was tired and done with this game already. I just needed direct answers. "Do you perhaps remember the date, I was given his bank statements but..... "Just hand over all of them" i seethed out in annoyance and just as he was about to question my order i held him up by his collar. "If you waste just a second of my time I'll fucking chop your balls into pieces, now do as I say" I let go of him and with trembling hands he handed me all the documents.

By the time the guards discovered them, their intertwined bodies had already started decomposing in the room. Just like that, the Thornroot pack was wiped out. … Jax and I were having our nightly storytime together when we heard about this. Neither of us was affected by the news, and Jax even ate a few more cookies than usual. After observing Noah, who was tidying up the place for us, Jax whispered, "Mommy, will I get a new daddy?" Chuckling, I nudged his nose and said, "No, my little pup. I don't need someone else to protect me anymore."

“I thought he was in a maximum-security federal block." “It was a year ago,” Agent Jeremiah said, his voice grim. “He was found in his cell. It was... brutal. The coroner’s report was suppressed, but I saw the photos. He looked like he’d been mauled by a large animal. There were deep claw marks, Solana." A cold chill washed over her, settling deep in her marrow. "And the cameras?" "Every frame of the hour he died was deleted from the server," he replied. “No digital footprint or witnesses. It had the workings of a very powerful cleanup crew."

“You should rest. Process. Grieve.” “I’ll grieve after I stop the Collective.” I headed for the elevator. “Clara died protecting me. Protecting whatever’s in that storage unit. I’m not letting that be for nothing.” The storage facility was across town. Old building. Rusted metal doors. Security cameras that probably didn’t work. Unit 2847 was in the back. Away from the main walkways. Isolated. The key turned smoothly. The door rolled up with a metallic screech. Inside was a single filing cabinet. Four drawers. Each is labeled with a name.

The room felt ten degrees colder than it had a minute ago. "Boss said we screen everything. Let me call the techs." "No. It’s addressed to me. Personally." Phineas slid the blade under the velvet. The fabric gave way with a soft, sickening hiss. "Lucian doesn't send bombs. He sends messages. He wants me to see it." "Phineas, don't—" The lid came off. The scent hit first. Copper. Formaldehyde. The sweet, cloying rot of a body that had been dead for exactly forty-eight hours.

It was then he knew this was his last day on earth. Outside Maddy, Kate, Mike, Porella, Andre and several bodyguards waited for one sound. Just then a loud gunshot whizzed through the air, it entered the window and hit its target right in the temple. Within minutes a crew came in and stripped the façade and revealed several containers that were retrofitted just for the purpose of this meeting. When they were done the only thing left was a dead man, sprawled across a table with a hole in his head. The next morning as the sun came up, the news hit the headlines – Defense Force DIRECTOR BEN JOHNSON FOUND DEAD on an empty lot in St. Greg.