From someone hell-bent on taking over the world and 'cleansing' it.

[ Bucky doesn't much like talking about it. It dredges up memories that sometimes don't seem like his own -- but he objectively knows it is; memories that come back to him in disjointed images and flashes of violence. They don't all come in order, but he understands enough of it to piece them together. He deliberately tries not to think too hard about that; Andyr's question is innocuous; he can be forgiven for not knowing the price that was paid.

He deliberately leaves himself out of the narrative, familiar tension coiling in the pit of his stomach. ] Crash-landed his plane into the Atlantic while taking that person down.

[ Even in this death Steve was more noble than he ever could be. He closes his eyes. ] No. [ Steve, asleep in the ice. Bucky was tortured, brainwashed, unmade and remade into something horrific, something that already had its roots in the man that he was before. ] He's a good man. The best out of all of them.

[ Not like him. Not like him at all. But Bucky's made his peace with that. ]