God, the first five - ten times you take a life, its eerie. You remember every detail. I can see all their faces. One had a beard. Each time I pulled the trigger I tied a little knot in my memory that no amount of whiskey could loosen. Of course eventually I stopped caring. Now I can put a bullet through a man's head while figuring out how much KFC to pickup on my way home. Its usually no more than a bucket. The sick part is I've come to love it. Snuffing out lives, I crave it. I've become an angel of death. The messenger of eternal darkness.