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.”

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?"

Schnell, Mont, and Mitch were occupied, but I’d walked in to help distribute whatever they’d found inside. The gun safe had creaked when it opened, revealing a modest arsenal. There were two AR-15-style rifles chambered in .223 Remington, each with red dot sights, backup iron sights, and Magpul furniture—simple, reliable, and modded for quick home defense or mid-range engagements. Next to them sat a classic 12-gauge Mossberg 500 shotgun with a pistol grip and a side-saddle shell holder loaded with buckshot and slugs. A pair of Glock 19 pistols rested in foam-cut slots, each with three extra 15-round magazines and a compact weapon light mounted under the barrel. Boxes of ammunition—.223, 9mm,

I could see that he was unconscious. I took a look, at the waistband of his pants. The man had a gun with him. It was a Glock 19. I took the gun. I checked the chamber to see if it was loaded. The gun was loaded. I looked at Giovanni. He is Giovanni. I was looking right at Giovanni. I said to them "How rounds of the game do you have left?" Giovanni said the number is six. "I have fifteen dollars " I said, holding Vinnys gun in my hand and feeling its weight.

The man mumbled with a hoarse voice, bringing his head down and looking sideways to continue making his list — something he was doing before she showed up. "El Depredador, Sobek Special, Double Clutch sniper guns, El Rubi and Ciervo Macho shutguns as well. I'm hoping you'd have the aforementioned here tonight." She gruffed, dropping a cheque on the table before him. He lifted up his head slowly to take a closer look at her as she drew near to him with those words coming out from a young teenager's lips.

Cash—stacks of hundreds banded in rubber bands. I ignore it all. I’m looking for paper. I’m looking for the past. The bottom drawer is locked. I use the knife again. I jam it into the lock mechanism and twist hard. Metal shears. The lock breaks. I pull the drawer open. It’s deep. Filled with manila folders. I flip through them. Police Reports. weapon Inventories. Reaper Intel. Then I see it. A red folder at the very back. No label. Just a symbol drawn in black marker.