Free Printable Gun Inventory Sheet Novels & Stories

Whatever the job calls for. To the right were all my favorite weapons. All of them were clean, organized and dusted which I actually care about. Knives were all balanced and personalized. I’ve got daggers tucked into false books and one coated in clear poison that kills in under three minutes. There were guns too like compact pistols, modified Glocks, even a matte-black sniper rifle broken down in a case under the floor tiles. Full magazines stacked in metal drawers. All untraceable. All mine. You wouldn’t believe how easy it is to go unnoticed when you wear a smile and carry juice boxes in your purse.

After a moment she said, “A gun is a massive responsibility, Claire. If you take it out, you have to be fully prepared to pull the trigger and end a life. Otherwise it will be taken from you and used against you.” “I know,” I whispered. “I’m prepared.” “Okay,” she said. “If you’re going to do it, don’t buy some massive hand cannon you can’t control. Start with a compact nine millimeter, something like a Smith and Wesson Shield or a Glock Forty-Three. They’re reliable, standard, and easy to manage with smaller hands, but still have stopping power.” I nodded. “What about storing it? I have two children at home.” “That makes it all the more important to follow gun safety rules. Do not put a gun

Now with the light, we can see where we are. "Where are we," I ask, turning to Chuck as he walks past me. Looking around, I see whole shelves lined up against the walls. On the shelves are an assortment of guns. I see many different kinds of handguns; basic pistols, some heavy-looking revolvers, and even a few peashooters. Beside the handgun are a bunch of blunt weapons such as wooden planks and broken pipes. After the blunt weapons are the big guns. I actually see a few shotguns lined up.

she asks as she puts in the combination. I abhor guns but I can shoot, so I nod. "This is a Glock 26 Gen4. It has 10 in the magazine and one in the chamber ready to fire. If you've used a Glock before, you know the safety is in the trigger pull, so it's ready to go. Point and shoot." She expertly removes the magazine and the bullet in the chamber before handing it to me with the slide back. I give her an inquisitive look. She shrugs. "I was a cop and gun safety is fully embedded in my soul."

"So this parking lot consists of 5 floors, each floor is approximately an acre. We all know, any negotiation taking place in a covered parking lot would be on the second last floor or top floor. In this case it's cause they don't wanna get caught by police." I went to a button on the wall and pressed it to make the hologram of the wall disappear. In its place were racks of guns. "A few of the guns we're expecting these two crews to be carrying," I picked up the guns as I read them out and tossed them to Jack, "Sniper Rifle, Strum Ruger & Co, Smith & Wesson .38, Glock Inc. .40, typical machince guns and High Point Firearms." "That is what we'll be using but we also gotta show 'em why we provi

Pain shot through her but she barely noticed. Down on the warehouse floor, men kept working. Crates banged around. Someone shouted orders. Normal stuff. Like she wasn't standing in a glass box holding evidence of something terrible. She forced air into her lungs. Okay. Okay. Look again. You need to see everything. She moved back to the desk. Her legs felt shaky. The gun was small. Silver handle with pearl inlay. Pretty, almost. The kind of thing a rich woman might keep in her purse. But the photo wasn't pretty. It was 8x10, glossy, marked up with red circles and arrows. Notes in the margins she couldn't read. The handwriting was too small, too cramped.

I followed, the morning air cool against my skin. I wore one of the clothes he asked the stylist to bring for me. She brought more than enough to start up a boutique: black cargo pants, a fitted long-sleeve shirt, and sturdy boots. No makeup. My hair was pulled into a high ponytail. A small crossbody bag slung across my chest—small enough to look harmless, big enough to hide what I planned to take. He led me to the handgun rack without a word. The weapons were laid out like surgical tools—Glocks, Berettas, Sig Sauers, all cleaned and oiled, magazines —which is an ammunition storage and feeding device for a repeating firearm.

I went ahead and picked up the guns I wanted to use: a Glock G19 Gen5 Compact 9mm Pistol and a Beretta 92X Performance 9mm Handgun—both offering me a concealed carry and easy handling during quick-action scenarios. Like he instructed, I scanned it on the laser scanner near the doorway. Automatically, my face and ID were displayed on the screen and listed the two guns under the miscellaneous tab. "Here are the boxes for these guns," Sir Oxland placed the said objects on the scanner table. "When you run out of bullets, you can come back here and ask for more, but let's hope you won't fire them." "I hope so too, because that means Mr. Windstorm is in danger," I answered while fitting the bullet

Three days ago~ The tension in the investigation room was sickening. Several people shouted loudly, pointing at the pile of papers lying on the table. Five people in investigator uniforms entered the room several times to deliver some evidence that had been secured from the shooting scene. There is a 9 mm caliber pistol wrapped in a clear adhesive plastic which is positioned on the main table. The gun is a murder weapon. At least that's what the investigative team said today, walking in and out of the room with various items brought from the Duffal family's stately home.

Everything else can happen afterward. I take a moment to steady my breath, feeling the weight of the gun in my hand as I pull it from the car compartment. It's a familiar ritual, one I've perfected over time. As a mafia woman, I always keep a pistol in my car—it's a necessity in my line of work. I inspect the magazine, ensuring it's fully loaded, the metallic click reassuring me of its readiness. Carefully, I attach the silencer, knowing that discretion is key; a loud noise could draw unwanted attention.