[As brief as this is, I would not recommend anyone squeamish read this. Angle of approach rejected -- this is shock content. I stopped before I got started, really. It's only here because I decided to stop deleting things.]
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With every electric start and stop corrugated aluminum shimmered and banged against the slack allowed by nails wormed slightly loose over years from the wall studs of the machine shop, a rectangular flyspeck portion of the barn set aside for woodwork. The reciprocating saw bogged down repeatedly. Torres noted that he chose poorly by apportioning the corpse with the bulky power tool. He barely started before the method waxed problematic, but then he lacked experience dividing a body into smaller parts. He learned as he went along.
Copious amounts of blood, darker than maroon, some of it almost black, sprayed in every direction as the Milwaukee Sawzall knockoff gnawed at the man's left glenohumeral joint. The gruesome mess quickly outweighed the already questionable benefits of reducing a human body to slabs of meat and sacks of bones. Nestor raced against the onset of rigor mortis and the morning arrival of the Old Man's business partner. He lost patience with the Sawzall and pulled the Bowie knife from the scabbard on his belt.
Old Man Collins meant well when he suggested using the power tools. Torres should have known better. New technology muddied the water in tasks mankind handled perfectly well with rudimentary technology since the stone age. Within fifteen minutes Nestor separated the arms and legs of the body from the torso. He positioned the two feet neatly side by side facing the remainder of parts.