Free Printable Gun Inventory Sheet Novels & Stories

Please let me try. I promise if it gets too dangerous, I will get out. she said. Mario doesn't like the idea, and I don't either. But we have no choice. I thought. "Okay, Sarah! We do it your way, but stay behind me.'' Mario said. Wade! Get us some guns. They are in my secret department in my cabinet under my scotch!" he told me. I went under the cabinet I saw a lot of different guns. I found 45's and Colt's M4 Carbines, Remington 870 Shotguns, et. I grabbed the shotguns and 45's and Colt M4's.

Nick BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. I took off my earpiece and lowered my rifle on the table. I pushed the lever, causing the sheet of silhouette target paper in front of me to dangle. Bullet holes peppered the black and white target. Fifteen out of fifteen of them were in the bull’s eye. I smirked. I pulled up a freshly drawn target and fired my prestigious M&P 9 M2.0, hitting the target in the head, chest, and crotch. The holy trinity.

Greer said, “You’re telling this court that you, Mrs. Harrington, a woman who needs corrective lenses to see clearly, identified Agent Viviane Kane—a federal agent—from fifteen feet away, through a window, at night?” “Yes,” she said. Greer stopped abruptly, “And you’re certain of this?” Her lips parted as if to respond, but no words came out. Without waiting for her to recover, Greer turned on his heel and walked to the defense table. He picked up a sealed evidence bag, holding it up for everyone to see. “Your Honor, this is Exhibit 14C: the firearm recovered from the scene. A Glock 19, standard issue. This weapon was tested and confirmed to have Agent Viviane Kane’s fingerprints on it.”

He hadn’t been around to experience many of them in Macie’s life, so he swore he’d soak up even the littlest ones whenever given the chance. She ran up to the target, whooped and turned around to beam at him. “I hit two! Dead center.” “I see that.” “Can we shoot some more?” “As much as you want.” “Cool.” Her eyes danced. “What other guns do you have hidden in your truck? Rifles? Shotguns? Bazookas?” “Settle down, Annie Oakley.” “But I want to shoot something besides this little plinker.” “The Walther P22 is plenty for you to handle right now.” Cash scratched his chin.

She tiptoed into the room and saw another lump with lots of hair scattered everywhere, it was her mother. The room was big and warm and had a smell of Lemon Basil Room Spray. Amaya walked to the cabinet where she knew her dad kept his guns. Her dad had two guns and insisted that her mum took one other gun around making a total of three. She opened the top drawer of the cabinet and saw a stealthy, wicked looking AGM-1 Carbine and beneath it was an Akdal Ghost TR01. She flinched as she touched the two cold guns and carefully brought them out. She kept the Akdal in one of her pockets, held the Carbine closely and tiptoed silently to the other side of the room.

They dropped it on the floor and went out to bring more. Within fifteen minutes, they had parked all the boxes inside. He stood and supervised the men as they unboxed it. The Rifles and knives were hung on the wall according to their types and grades, while the pistols were arranged according to their grades. The ammo and bullet proof vests were spread out on the large table while Giovanni stared at them with admiration. “All done.” One of the men said with a deep Italiano accent. He had a receding hairline and a thick beard. He dusted his hands on his trouser before taking out the gloves.

I head inside. The cabin smells like gunpowder and iron. Men line the walls—some cleaning their guns, others sharpening blades. A few are checking their crossbows. The weapons are varied—Remington 870 shotguns, Colt AR-15s, custom hunting rifles. Crossbows. Axes. Knives. I walk past a group of men talking in low voices. "—she killed three children. Three. Drowned them in her own bathtub. Got off on an insanity plea." "Fucking unbelievable."

Plus it will make for one hell of a story at the dinner table. Grabbing a cloth from my handbag I clean my prints off Elmar’s gun and walk over and place the gun in his hand firmly placing his prints on his gun. I then repeat the process with Jannik’s gun. I check both their pockets and remove the burner phones I gave them and place them in my handbag. I secure my gun back into its thigh holster with the safety on and call for a cab to take me back to my jet. While I stand outside the warehouse I pat myself on the back for another job well done. Now I can finally go home and see my family.

Christ . Although she’d braced herself for the sight, the amount of weaponry collected still unsettled her. AR-15s, AK-47s, shotguns, and a variety of rifles and handguns were neatly arranged on the walls as if they were mere tools on a pegboard in someone’s garage. Several magazines or boxes of corresponding ammo sat under each weapon, prepped and ready to use. No wonder Dad was huffing when he hauled all this in. Every bag he was carrying must’ve been ready to burst.

How was anyone supposed to track if one went missing? "Do you keep records?" I asked Rex. "Of who takes weapons out?" "Yes. Everything is logged." He gestured to a computer terminal near the door. "You have to scan your ID and input which weapon you're taking and why. It all gets recorded." "Can we see the logs?" He shifted nervously. "That's definitely above my clearance level. I'd get fired." "What if someone took a weapon without logging it?" Helione asked. "Would anyone notice?"