Pulp Fiction Paul Novels & Stories

Wechuli begged. Paul smirked and shook his head. He turned to the henchmen and signalled them that they should leave. Without a word, Paul followed them behind with his head bend. He was crying! ****** They entered the car and left, Paul seated at the back of the car while the henchmen in front. He was staring out in the window. His mind in the whirlpool. Paul's thoughts were interrupted when a call came into his cellphone. He recognized the person who was calling, even though it was a new number.

“Two pints of Wellington Bomber, please, Bob.” We found a deserted corner and Paul studied some papers for a while repeatedly scowling away, “This is an extremely grave matter,” into the middle distance from time to time, before his craggy face broke into an understanding smile when he looked up at me. “How did you know?” He asked suddenly. “And before you say anything I’ve read your statement. There is one vital piece missing.” “And what is that?” I raised my slippery glass carefully and took a mouthful of froth from the top. I could feel that it left a white moustache traced across my upper lips, so I wiped it away with a napkin.

I poured Paul a stiff drink once I got him seated in my office on the couch. His hands were shaking, he was pale, and I could hear his heart racing. I put the glass down on the table in front of him as he eyed me warily. “So you speak to animals? And what the fuck was that blue shit on your hands?” he asked me, his eyes wide with fear. “Have a drink, Paul, you’re going to need it,” I said to him, as I sat down opposite him and emptied my glass.

He hesitated for a moment before saying, “Paul?” Paul stepped forward, staring coldly at Rory. “I see you still remember me.” Rory grinned sinisterly. “Of course. Long time no see.” He walked downstairs with his arms crossed and marched up to Paul. “Did you come back to avenge your sister?” Paul stared into his eyes as if trying to see through him. “Would you be afraid if I say yes?” Rory revealed a wicked smile as if he had just heard a joke. “Afraid? Haha, I haven’t heard such a good joke in a long time.”

“I told you I needed him.” She’s not by herself. Someone tall and broad walks next to her. He’s clumsy with a lumbering gait. He holds onto Victoria’s arm. They both shift, with the light hitting their faces. Blood covers Victoria, but she has no cuts. This guy on the other hand is Paul. His face has blood splotches and there’s a deep gash on his forehead, with crude black stitches. His eyes roam around, but there’s no life in them. He’s like a zombie. “What did you do?” I scream.

Andrew added, "If you confess everything and reveal your mastermind, Ms. Rhodes might show mercy." "Really?" Paul's fearful eyes lit up with hope as he began to raise his hand to point at Michael. "You ungrateful bastard! Rhodes Corporation gave you everything, and this is how you repay us? I'll kill you!" Michael exploded into action before Paul could speak. In a rage, Michael grabbed Paul's hair and violently slammed his head against the table. Paul's scream filled the room as blood began flowing from his wound. Just as Michael prepared to strike again, Andrew kicked him away. However, Paul suddenly began convulsing violently, foaming at the mouth before collapsing lifelessly.