I used to think I was destined to become a serial killer... this was 20 years before I found our about my Aspergers... I could see the obvious differences between myself and normal society, and I could see similarities between myself and serial killers...
So the killing arts have always fascinated me... I know many ways to kill a man, I can manufacture guns and ammo from raw materials, have a fair knowledge of poisons and their delivery, and if a movie comes out about a hitman, I'm there on opening day...
I was cured of any desire to ever kill anyone during my first week in Army basic training... The drill seargeant filled an ammo can with water, and put it a hundred yards downrange, then shot it with an M16... then he brought the can back to show it to us... while he was carrying it, we could only see the side with the bullet hole in it, a hole less than a quarter of an inch in diameter... when he got to where we were standing, he showed us the back of the can, which was completely destroyed... there was a patch bigger than a cantaloupe blown outward... he told us that this is what happens to a human head when struck by an M16 round... that was the last time i ever had the notion that killing people was somehow romantic...
I realized that killing is nothing more than useless destruction, and never the best solution to any problem...
I still play with my guns and knives and whatnot, but I no longer imagine that the target is a person, I just focus on hitting my mark... I pray I never have to use these weapons against a living thing... But I do enjoy the knowledge that I can hit a golf ball at fifty yards nine times out of ten shooting a pistol with one hand...