This is a fictional short story and a little out of my comfort zone.
.....
Kelly's ears were ringing from the gunshot. Calmly, astride him on the mattress on which she'd forced him to lay, she looked down. His eyes were staring, lifeless. The blood pouring into his mouth and overspilling down his neck onto the concrete had stopped. There was no heartbeat. She left the pistol in his mouth. When the semi-automatic had re-cocked itself, the foresight had knocked out his two front teeth, one of which was lying on her thigh. Careful not to fire the gun again, she wrapped his fingers around the grip and put his index finger through the trigger guard.
Satisfied, she stood and brushed off the tooth to join his other one on his chest. She was in no rush. They were in the target store, part of the twenty-five-metre indoor range. No-one would be running in response; the range was largely soundproofed. There was no need to wipe her prints. As duty student for the day, it was part of her job to be there. A lack of her prints would have been suspicious.
After a final check around, she strode across the camp to the armoury. As well as being a rapist, Sergeant Everson was a lazy bastard. After a recruit live firing, he'd fire off two magazines himself then hand his pistol to the duty student for cleaning and return to the armoury. Unless, like today, he had another range session after lunch.
When Everson had thrown the old mattress on the floor and began to undress, she'd quietly loaded and cocked his pistol. "Come on," he'd shouted over his shoulder, "You wanna pass this course don't you? Get your tight cunt over here, I'm already hard and I'm gonna..." He stopped when he felt the pistol pressed against the back of his skull.
.....
"Just yours?" said Corporal Watkins, the armourer, sliding Kelly's weapon card across to her.
"Yes, Corporal," she said, "He's got Squad Eight after lunch."
"Aye, well, get yourself away for some scran, lassie," he said in his broad Glaswegian accent. She did, via the barrack block where she showered, changed and put her combats into the washing machine in the laundry room.
Lunch in the cookhouse was followed by foot drill on the parade square. Ten minutes in, all hell broke loose. Sirens, military police landrovers, the ambulance from the medical centre. Shortly after, a runner sprinted across the square to the RSM. After a brief conversation he handed the squad over to the drill sergeant who marched them off to the NAAFI.
The camp went into lockdown and they stayed in the NAAFI drinking tea and playing pool. Mid-afternoon the guard commander came in and called Kelly's name. She'd been expecting it. "Yes Sergeant?" she said.
"Double yourself over to the BTO's office."
She arrived breathless. Captain Rogers, the Basic Training Officer was behind his desk, flanked by two men in suits. She halted and saluted saying, "Private Webb, sir."
He nodded and said, "At ease, Webb. This is Sergeant Smith and Corporal Whitehouse from the RMP Special Investigation Branch. They have some questions for you."
"Me sir?" she said.
"Maybe if we could use a classroom, sir?" said Smith, "This isn't an interrogation."
Captain Rogers stood and said, "Yes, of course, they're all free, we've suspended training for the day. We can use the one next door."
Rogers went to rise but Smith said, "Thank you sir, well let you know when we've finished."
"I feel I should be present," said Rogers.
"Standard procedure sir, we want Webb to feel that she can talk freely."
Rogers harrumphed but backed down.
They sat at a table and Corporal Whitehouse took notes. "So," said Smith, "We're investigating an incident earlier today. I understand that you are duty student for your squad?"
"Yes sergeant," she said.
"This is just a chat, you don't have to call me sergeant every time you speak. Can you talk me through what happened at the range this morning?"
"Happened? Well, I signed out the keys for the indoor range from the guardroom at about ten-thirty, then joined the rest of the squad at the armoury to draw weapons. Nine millimetre pistols. Sergeant Everson was already there. He handed two full ammo boxes to Privates O'Connor and Davies then marched us to the indoor range. I unlocked, turned on the lights and the extractor fans, and brought the targets out from the target store."
"Just you?"
"Yes, it's the duty student's job."
"You'd done it before?"
"Um, duty student or fetching the targets?"
"Both."
"There are only twelve of us in the squad so duty student comes around every twelve days or so. The range duties I've done once before though but I think this is our sixth session there. Everything tends to blend together when you're a recruit."
"Then what happened?"
"Sergeant Everson ran a refresher on the pistol; NSPs - load, unload, make safe, stoppage drills, the usual stuff. Then he issued ammunition and we loaded our magazines. In groups of three we went through various practices at varying ranges. We finished about twelve."
"Then what?"
"Sergeant Everson took a formal verbal range declaration from everyone and sent the squad back to the accommodation block to clean their weapons."
"What did you do?"
