Maybe it was just him.
It was a possibility.
Not too many people admitted to that kind of thing.
It was strange even in his mind.
The feel of the gun in his hand, smooth, deadly.
Powerful.
No, something more.
Godlike.
The ability to shift muscles and boom someone was dead.
He was more than just a killing machine, he shot with grace and beauty that none other could attain in their wildest dreams.
Death came naturally to a dream, to one already dead.
None feel the same as he does as he shoots his gun.
He fights to the sound of unheard music.
Trumpets staccato as a bullet rips into another man's body.
But what always gets him is the female vocalization, just as that dead guy falls.
Maybe it was just him,
just him that got a thrill out of hearing the music made by death and bullets.
He wanted deep down to hear it once more before he died...
BANG
A/N: I don't own Cowboy Bebop. Never will. Feedback is very welcome.