Vincent From Pulp Fiction Novelas e Histórias

“Forty’s secure.” “Forty’s a crime scene,” Marx said. “You’re a victim. Act like one.” Vincent stood by the window. Gun on the floor. Hands empty. Not looking at Dominic. Not looking at anyone. “Vincent,” I said. He flinched. “I shot him.” “You aimed low,” I said. “You saved him.” “Did I?” Vincent looked at Rosie. At me. “Antonio.” Dominic’s jaw locked. “You said he would’ve liked that I didn’t let you fall.”

The first time I met Vincent was the night he got dumped. His fiancée, the girl he'd been engaged to since childhood, had flown off to Italy without a second glance. He was sitting alone, slamming back drinks at the dive bar where I worked. I'd open a bottle of hard liquor, and he'd down the whole thing. My commission from his drinks that night alone was thirty thousand dollars. As I was getting ready to leave at dawn, he grabbed my sleeve and wouldn't let go.

Maybe today’s shoot could finally end peacefully. Manager Fang helped Danice change out of her costume. “My heart was racing the entire time… You did very well. Sir Jack couldn’t even say anything.” Danice nodded. She didn’t particularly care what Sir Jack thought. Today’s filming consisted entirely of Vincent’s scenes. His eerie daily life was portrayed—mostly alone in the old house with his twin. The boy, a sociopath with unsettling habits, was brought vividly to life by Danice. But not every scene was completed in one take.

Gutemberg nearly spat out his drink laughing, while Vincent stared at me like he was trying to decide if I was a walking problem. “If you try that, I promise I won’t stop to rescue you when the cops catch you,” Vincent murmured. “I think what he means is he doesn’t want to see you naked, babe,” Gutemberg added, leaning toward me with a smirking smile. “But me, on the other hand...” Vincent threw a pillow at him without warning, hitting him in the face. Gutemberg cursed, but I just laughed.

It had been twenty years since that tragic event, and Vincent had believed Lin was gone forever. "You can't be real," I whispered, my voice barely audible. Vincent's disfigured face bore the marks of the fire that had supposedly consumed him all those years ago. The scar ran from his forehead to his jaw, a grotesque reminder of the power-hungry man he once was. But there was no mistaking it; the eyes that bore into my soul were unmistakably those of my nephew. "Oh, I'm as real as it gets dear nephew," Vincent said with a cold, sinister smile. "I survived that night, and I've got my eyes on you and everyone else ever since."

My men were already getting started. Vincent was bound to a metal chair in the centre of the room, his head down, his shirt red with blood. A rivulet of blood flowed from a gash above his eye, running down his face in dark, syrupy lines. Pathetic. He didn't even flinch when I approached, his breathing coming in rough gasps. "Get him up," I told them. One of my guys didn't think twice—grabbing a bucket of ice water and pouring it straight in Vincent's face.

Marcus stands by the door, his presence a gentle reassurance, but his eyes watchful, tracking Helen-Nora's every move. "Vincent found me about five years ago," she starts, eyes on the floor. "I was rock bottom-bills piling up, no work, no prospects. I'd been gambling, trying to scramble out of the hole I'd dug myself into, but it just created more issues. I was in a dirty apartment not too far from here, just surviving. I was out one night, drunk, when this guy came slinking into the booth next to me. Slicked-back hair, nice suit, snake eyes. That was Vincent."

His eyes were closed and he wasn't breathing, which only means he was dead, and it seems that he died because of loss of blood from his ripped arm "Who sent you" Vincent growled, "I have already told them what I know" the guy at the right cried out "I swear I don't know anything else" Vincent growled and it echoed in the room, his claws emerged slowly from his fingers and he plunged them into the guy's stomach. "Speak" Vincent commanded with his voice filled with authority. He spat out blood before talking "she promised to pay us if we could rape the girl". "Who is she?" he asked menacingly, as he pushed his claws further into the guy's stomach.

Zi Fei shout at him when they leave him in the basement with one man left. "You're so dead!" he said and dash to the man. Vincent laughs when seeing his intense face. "That's good. I like your face now! Come on, kill me." he dodges his attack and almost kicks Aaron's side body. Luckily Aaron holds his kick with his other hand. He flips his body and uses his leg to lock Vincent's head and slump him down to the ground. Thud! Both of them fall to the ground. "Hahahaha.. you know what, I just rape your wife yesterday night! She's so weak! I thought a legendary man like you will marry a woman who is at least in the same field as you. Such a shame!"

He reached out to Slyvester, who was still talking to his friends. He stood so close to them. "Slyvester," he called. Slyvester looked back and stood up. “Hey, Vincent. Why are you…” 'Bam!' Vincent punched him and Slyvester fell to the ground.