What's In The Briefcase In Pulp Fiction นิยาย & เรื่องราว

I couldn't help but notice a briefcase in the back seat as he sat next to me on the wheels. “What’s in the case?” I asked and stretched to the back to take the briefcase. I clutched it and placed it on my lap. I opened it and was stunned to see that there were two handguns inside the briefcase with a lot of bullets. I gasped and looked at him with wide eyes. "What the hell? What do we need guns for?" I asked, my voice trembling.

He was also the one who brought these people who wanted me dead here. I raised my hand and smashed my fist into the frame. The glass shattered upon impact. Blood trickled down my fingers, staining our intertwined hands on the painting red. Expressionless, I tore the canvas open to reveal the secret compartment behind it. There was a dusty metal box in that secret compartment. I opened the metal box, revealing a Glock 19, three fully loaded magazines, a bloodstained folding pocketknife, and a miniature improvised explosive device. At the very bottom of the metal box lay a yellowed photo.

She couldn't find an open pharmacy so she just went back to her apartment. As she went inside her room, she kept cursing and cursing as she pours alcohol all over it. She wiped and covered it with a clean cloth. Ember slid down to the side of her bed and groaned. Closing her eyes for a while, she tried to remember the man holding a rifle and the man holding a briefcase. The one with a briefcase left first while the rifleman was still inside the building. Ember was oblivious by the number of men inside the building but it can’t be greater than five. The briefcase, she deduced, is the product. But what was inside it?

He replied and walked out of the room to carry out my order. I stood up from my position on the chair and walked up to the closet that was in the hotel. I pulled out my briefcase that I had kept in there. The briefcase contained everything that I will need for an operation. It is like a first aid kit but this one contains all sorts of guns, knives, cuffs, and everything you can think of. I checked to make sure everything I needed was there, extra bullets and all.

“Did you just come here to do that? Did you follow me?” “No,” I deny. But she’s already getting up. She takes her briefcase and straightens her coat, bound for the door. In wild daze, I go after her without hesitation, grabbing her briefcase instead of her hand. Only for the briefcase to fall on the floor and split open, revealing its contents. Papers. Lots of them. Money, too. Bound in thick wads by the hundreds. But that’s not the worst of all of it. There are pictures.

Jigsaw asked. Magnolia smiles and sits in his lap, with her arms around his neck. "Everything Jigsaw, Pablo is not just coming to Russia empty handed, he's arriving in Russia with a briefcase containing golds" She said. And Jigsaw looks like her "You're jocking, right?" "I wish I was, but right now, I'm dead serious. Do you know what it means to have that briefcase containing golds in our custody?" She asked with her coloured black nails, walking in his chest.

Every truth someone had tried to erase forever. I reached the old safe. Inside were bundles of cash stacked almost to the ceiling. Different currencies. Gold bars. Passports under false names. Identity cards. A black notebook rested on top of everything else. I picked it up. "What is it?" Pierre asked. "I don't know." I opened it. Every page contained handwritten notes. Payments. Dates. Orders. Names of people who had disappeared. People who had been bribed. People who had been killed. People who had been bought.

What the fuck is going on? As we continue to explore the deserted massage parlor, Misha’s question breaks the silence. “Do you think somebody tipped Alfonso off?” I shake my head. “I doubt it.” I glance around, scanning the small rooms for any sign of Alfonso or his men. We walk around and start looking in the small rooms. Inside one small room is a table covered with guns and knives. Caches of money. Bottles filled with gasoline. Gas masks. Molotov cocktails.

I dust away his handprints on my body and look around his living room. I look around and there's no sign of a briefcase. I hurry down a hallway and open his bedroom. I search through the room and I can't find his briefcase. I pull out the drawers one after the other in search of the file and it's empty. I pull out the last drawer on the nightstand and I see it. CONFIDENTIAL. I open it and flip through the file. I look through the file for anything important and worth risking my life for. " Mr. Rio." I hear a voice outside the suite.

“And while you’re at it, maybe explain why the fuck you thought you could stroll in here without invitation.” The suits didn’t have answers. They only had sweat, shaking hands, and a briefcase full of whatever dirty money or deals they thought would buy us. Too bad for them - we weren’t for sale. At least… not cheaply. The briefcase clicked open. Stacks of cash, neat and green, the stink of laundering all over it. I didn’t even have to sniff to know it came from backroom poker or blood fights. Maddox whistled low. “Looks like somebody had a good night at the slaughter pits.”