Pulp Fiction Trunk Shot Novels & Stories

He felt his vision getting blurry and he jerked his face to clear his vision. With a lot of screaming and grunting and trashing he pulled away. Blood dripping from Vincent's mouth and a rough stitched on his lips. "You use it too much." He said and pulled open his zipper. "And this." He pulled out his dick and with a sharp knife chop it off. Vincent was trashing in his chair. "J-Jona...." "Shhhhh" Jonathan pulled out the gun and placed it on his temple. "You are free to go" and a bullet passed through his skull. Jonathan stumbled and backed away from all the blood. He looked back at Aiden with a faint smile.

We still got it. But victory is short lived when I hear Vincent cry out. I turn towards the sound of his short and he's on his knees, crimson blooming across his chest, but he's got Lupe in a death grip. They struggle, and I watch as Vincent drives his knife up under Lupe's ribs. The rival president's eyes go wide, then vacant. When the echo of the last gunshot fades, we're the only ones left standing. Vincent slumps against a pillar, breathing hard.

“You were part of the machine. And now you’re going to pay for it.” Without rushing, I grip the gun with both hands and point it at his head. He closes his eyes, sobbing. I pull the trigger. The shot echoes loudly inside the warehouse. His body falls backward, hitting the boxes. Blood spreads quickly across the concrete floor, forming a dark pool. I stay standing, looking at him. No emotion on my face. No regret. Just a cold, satisfied emptiness. Declan approaches from behind and places his hand on my shoulder. He doesn’t say anything. Harvey also steps closer, stopping beside me.

Then the truck hit. Glass shattered into knives. Wood screamed. Bottles broke apart and exploded. I went down hard, Luca’s name tearing out of me, though he wasn’t there. Frankie yanked me under the bar as the front wall folded. The air was filled with liquor, dust, and gunpowder. Men drew. The first shot ripped the room open. Someone screamed. Someone laughed like a lunatic. Frankie fired back twice, deliberately and brutally. A body fell against the bar and slid out of sight.

His lips moved, forming a name, DiFronzo. His voice was barely above a whisper, strained and choked. “DiFronzo… the DiFronzo…” His eyes darted upward as if trying to say more, but before the words could fully escape his lips, a deafening gunshot shattered the silence. The dealer’s head snapped back violently, the force of the impact sending a fine spray of blood across the peeling wallpaper behind him. A dark hole gaped in the center of his forehead, a perfect execution shot. His body sagged against the restraints, lifeless, his last breath stolen in an instant. The sharp scent of gunpowder mixed with the stale, musty air of the abandoned building.

The man drew a heavy black pistol from his waist. The muzzle pointed at Buzz Cut. "No—!" The shot cracked before he could finish. My whole body jerked. I watched blood run through his fingers. He wasn't dead. The bullet had just grazed his cheek, leaving a deep gash from his cheekbone down to his jaw. "The next shot," Brode said, his voice still cold and calm, "goes in your skull." Buzz Cut was flat on the ground now, face smeared with blood and rain and dirt, sobbing for his life. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, have mercy—"

I saw him stand on well-spread feet, steady his pistol as if he was on the police range. But the gelled haired guy was already sagging. Elky’s bullet had drilled through his neck. Felix fired at him again and the bullet caught the man in the chest and twisted him around. It was fast and brutal affair, causing a lot of gasps and overdone screams. The telltale jingle of pearls abandoning a neck in favor of the floor. Someone’s girlfriend fainted with so much drama I felt like applauding.

Soon they realized that their own van had arrived on their side, and on the opposite side, a truck had also arrived, and everything happened very quickly. Tulio was no longer tied up and with his gun, he waited inside the shed. Like Cloe and Gringo, he heard the truck approaching and went out the shed door, aiming at who he thought was Janio. But it was Cannibal who got out of the truck, and the mobster immediately started shooting at him. Tulio was hit and fell back without having time to shoot back. Cloe and Gringo watched everything, but from where they were, they couldn't do anything. Gringo didn't have time to catch the girl who fainted and hit her head on the ground.

Malik said, " Ohh and he is in my aim. Ohh god why he moved, anyway distract him more and whatever happens don't shoot." I made eye contact with Peter and he gave me a small nod ohh my little, he understands me. He is still under the influence of that anesthetic syringe that will help me too. Peter's legs loosened up and Francis was struggling to keep him, standing and with that, I saw the right place and I shot " I got it." Malik said and I shot, " Shit." The bullet went beside Peter's face into Francis's chest. As Malik shot him on his head to make sure he dies, I ran to my brother as I hugged him

They held thick wooden sorting sticks wrapped in jagged barbed wire. Desperately, Tracy tried to run. But her bare feet slipped on a pool of soapy laundry water, and she crashed hard onto the rough street asphalt. Before she could scramble back up, a deafening gunshot ripped through the darkness. Burning, white-hot pain exploded in her right calf as a bullet tore directly through her flesh. The brutal impact pinned her flat against the cold ground. Seconds later, one of the hitmen stepped over her bleeding body. He raised the heavy wooden stick high into the air and swung it directly at her face.