Has the Punisher’s arrival improved Hampton’s situation? The answer is yes. When people are in panic, they need a strong enough backbone. Even if this person was once their enemy, as long as he is willing to step up and lead, the human race can always find comfort and courage from the group.

Shortly after Frank left the estate, the power gradually returned. However, Hampton was still blocked by supernatural phenomena, and neither the helicopters from the Federal Bureau of Investigation nor the military could get through. S.H.I.E.L.D. had some methods to breakthrough the supernatural barrier, but they were just coasting along. On the phone, their attitude was very cordial, but the practical measures seemed to consist of Nick calling Coulson to remind him to keep an eye on Natasha and make sure she drinks less.

After the snow stopped, Steve went out for a walk and came back with a furrowed brow, sitting silently at the dining table. Bucky served him a bowl of oatmeal porridge, and Steve only glanced at it before saying, "Thanks, but I’m not really hungry."

"Natasha made borscht," Bucky sniffed, as if he caught the aroma, "You’ll definitely like it, I’ll get you a bowl later."

Steve looked towards the kitchen but didn’t see Natasha. He curiously asked, "Where did she cook it?"

"In the backyard," Bucky said, "She built a big fire there and put up a pot. It’s like if it isn’t made in the ice and snow, it wouldn’t be authentic Russian cuisine."

"I think she just thinks the gas stove flame is too small," Steve stated the truth, "She always likes to throw the whole pot into the fire."

"You seem a bit upset," Bucky said, "Don’t try to hide it, Steve. You know you can’t hide it from me."

"I’m worried about that Frank," Steve said anxiously, "He hadn’t been out for half an hour before he killed someone, and he... stomped on the guy’s neck to break it. He’s absolutely dangerous, just too violent."

Bucky opened his mouth, then said, "What did that person do?"

"Don’t get me wrong," Bucky defended himself, "I’m not saying such extreme violence is right. But you know, there aren’t many good people in Hampton. They aren’t very sane usually, and they’re probably crazier now."

"That person jumped up against Frank, saying this madman would kill them all. Then he grabbed his neck, pinned him to the ground, and stomped on his spine to break it. This... it was just...."

Steve didn’t finish his statement: "Logically, I understand he needs to establish authority, otherwise there’s no way to manage these rich folks. But at most, just shoot the guy, this method is too cruel."

Bucky knows that with a broken spine, it depends on where it breaks. If you stomp directly on the neck, the pain might be less. Other places, at the least, would lead to paralysis.

In such a case, a paralyzed person is almost impossible to survive. If no one cares, they are likely to die of thirst or hypothermia, and would lose control over bowel and bladder, which would be very undignified and extremely painful when they die.

Winter Soldier can’t not kill. In fact, Captain America doesn’t strictly have a no-kill rule either, after all, they are soldiers who have been to war. But both of them think there’s no need for torture, just make it quick, even for the enemy.

Bucky walked over to sit beside Steve, putting an arm around his shoulder, then said, "There are too many people in the world incompatible with us, but at certain crucial moments, we have to cooperate with them. We can express our dissatisfaction with their actions, but it’s best not to think about changing them."

Steve turned his head to look at Bucky, having to admit that what Bucky said hit the point. Now Steve was torn about whether to stop Frank. So he asked, "Why?"

"Actually, you know the answer," Bucky sighed, "We can’t change any adult. We can argue with him, temporarily stop him, but we can never truly change him, not even persuade him."

Bucky tilted his head, looking at Steve, and said, "For some things, we can only agree to disagree, right?"

"The key is, should I define such cruel behavior as evil," Steve said with a frown, "The line is very blurred, I need to think about it."

"Have you wondered why Shiller didn’t let you go?" Bucky stood up, walked to the seasoning cabinet, picked up the white sugar jar, pinched it with his fingers, held his own bowl of porridge with his palm, and sat across from Steve.

"You’re Captain America, you’re great at rallying people’s hearts, the most suitable to step up and be a hero in this situation. But he never considered you from the start to the end."

Steve’s brow furrowed even more. Bucky took a sip of porridge and said, "That’s because good people can’t handle these people. If you dare to hold onto your kindness bottom line, they dare to step all over you."

"If you step up, say you want to help them, and choose to explain in a nice way or tolerate and ignore them when facing provocateurs, they’ll immediately walk all over you."

"Even if you shot that person, they wouldn’t really be scared. They would continue to test you, wanting to see where your bottom line is. Once they realize you don’t actually want to kill them and that you are a rational, clear-headed good person, they definitely won’t listen to you; instead, they will want you to listen to them."

"Only a madman like Frank Castle, who practices extreme violence, can make them obey completely. He broke that guy’s spine to prolong his death, letting everyone see how painful it was and to show them his bottom line: anyone who dares to speak too much will face Hell."

Steve’s eyebrows relaxed a little. In fact, his experiences in Hampton as a young man were enough to prove Bucky was right. These people had neither sympathy nor shame, and their sense of awe was lacking. Their attitude toward threats from everyone else was either ’You don’t dare,’ or ’You aren’t worthy.’

They have considerable confidence in their constructed class barriers. Over the years, they have lived in luxury, so even if suddenly caught in disaster, they wouldn’t immediately change their mindset, thinking they have fallen from hunter to prey. Instead, they’d still maintain an aloof attitude, living with their usual logic. Without thoroughly crushing them, they won’t learn their lesson.

What struck Steve the most was actually Bucky’s question. If they wanted to send someone to help these people establish psychological defenses against terrifying illusions, why couldn’t Captain America do it?

The answer is because Captain America is a well-known good person, and perhaps too good. To these people in Hampton, a good person should be the one with a gun pointed at them. A great guy like Captain America should be shot and not complain. Steve couldn’t build prestige among such people, while someone like Frank, who is ruthlessly violent, could.

Thinking of this, Steve sighed deeply. After all these years, he believed his moral boundaries had become more flexible, allowing him to integrate well with Shiller and the others. Now it seems there’s still a long way to go. Even if Shiller tells him to do it and he believes it’s right, he just can’t get past that psychological hurdle.

So what is going on with him? Steve turned the topic to Frank: "What made him become like this?"

"His family was killed in revenge." Coulson came over, holding a bowl of steaming borscht. He gently blew on it, sipping along the edge of the bowl, and then said, "While picnicking in the park, he witnessed mob executions. Apart from him, all his family members were wiped out."

Steve grimaced, unable to say anything. This is truly an unprovoked disaster. The so-called madness and violence depend on comparison. As far as he knows, Joker’s "bad day" didn’t seem as terrible. That Punisher can still be a rational, normal person, with normal logic and clear speech, although his methods towards enemies are cruel, can’t be considered indiscriminate slaughter. It’s actually quite remarkable.

Steve quickly convinced himself, took a sip of the tasteless oatmeal porridge, and his expression looked like he’d been punched. He lowered his head to look at his bowl and then said: "This porridge tastes like food from the Civil War era. Why are we drinking this?"

"Healthy eating." Coulson patted his small belly; the Golden Apple could adjust the body to its best state but doesn’t work permanently. He had exercised less recently, thus gaining quite a bit of weight.

"I am a Cyborg." Steve was uninterested in the oatmeal porridge. He stood up and walked toward the back door. The rich aroma wafted over, Greed and Natasha each holding a big bowl of borscht, sitting under the estate’s eaves, drinking with steam rising from their bodies.

"You are having delicious food here; indoors, there’s only oatmeal porridge." Steve feigned complaining, "I want soup, too."

Greed served him a big bowl as well. Steve also sat down with the bowl, took a sip, smacked his lips: "Still not very authentic. This stuff must be stewed with Soviet military ration canned luncheon meat, simmered long enough until the vegetable stems dissolve into fibers, the meat becomes mush, and you don’t need to chew when drinking, still steaming in the stomach..."

Natasha’s eyes immediately brightened: "Indeed, we have common topics. Can’t really mix with those kids."

"Tony probably can’t stomach this stuff at all." Steve laughed, "Last time he bit into a rye bread, he gagged for over ten minutes."

"You can’t blame him; I can’t stomach that stuff, either." Natasha shook her head, saying, "Even if two fingers high of cheese were piled on top, it’s barely edible. Gulping vodka won’t get it down."

"But if soaked in the soup, it’s different." Steve took another big gulp of soup, steam wafting around his nose and mouth, "I will always remember the bowl of sour cream soup with rye bread chunks I had in Rostock; it was delicious."

"By the way," Natasha looked at Greed with her soup bowl, "What are you tinkering with in the basement? Not playing with corpses again, are you?"

"What’s ’again’ mean?" Greed lowered his head to drink soup, "He is just doing some medical research while preparing for the housewarming banquet."

"Sounds like he’s planning to make corpses the main dish." Steve shivered, "...he wouldn’t, right?"

"Once again, humans aren’t good to eat, and I don’t eat people." Greed emphasized, "But don’t you feel just a few murders and bodies could frighten people like them?"

Steve paused his hand: "Then what’s your insight?"

Greed blew on his soup: "You’ll know when the time comes."