Bucky doesn't move, he doesn't even feel like he's breathing right now as a matter of fact. He just keeps focusing on the wall, feeling the tremble running through his body. Sam can surely feel it too.

Words are like buzzing in his ears. "You shouldn't." Bucky says flatly. "It's not... you shouldn't."

It's not a job for someone like Sam to do, it's a job for someone like Bucky. A weapon, a killer, a knife in the dark. Everything they'd made him to be boils beneath the surface; the assassin who didn't hesitate. What Bucky's thinking about is the kind of work that person was made for.

The Asset didn't feel a damned thing, Bucky wishes he could be like that too right now.