Saving Bucky-Rewrite

Olivia's POV:

I watch from the back of the truck as Quentin—or Mysterino or whatever he's calling himself—tries to prove he's some kind of evil genius. Spoiler alert: he's not. His frantic movements, the failed timing, the sheer incompetence—it's almost painful to watch. He can't be serious.

"Feel stupid yet, Quen?" I ask, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

He freezes mid-motion, slowly turning to glare at me. His face flushes with rage. "IT'S MYSTERIO!" he yells, the veins in his neck practically popping.

"Oooooh," I reply, drawing the word out, my amusement barely contained. "Scary."

His face darkens even more as he whirls back to his controls. "FIRE ALL THE DRONES! NOW!"

I glance around the truck, raising an eyebrow. "Who are you even talking to?" I ask, leaning back lazily. "There's no one else here, you idiot."

The drones fire anyway, launching from all directions, beams of light streaking through the air. But Bucky... oh, he's something else. He dodges every shot with a lethal grace, sliding across the pavement at one point, using his metal arm for traction to stop himself as the firing pauses.

I let out a breath, shaking my head as I glance down at the truck floor. "Oh my god... this is so stupid," I mutter under my breath. My eyes catch something—a metal pipe lying beneath one of the seats. I pick it up, testing its weight.

"This is just pathetic," I whisper to myself as I stand, pipe in hand, and make my way toward Quentin.

He's too focused on Bucky to notice me, barking orders at the drones like a fucking lunatic. Big mistake.

I swing the pipe once, and it connects with a satisfying thunk against his back, sending him to his knees. Before he can react, I swing again, harder this time, and he crumples to the floor.

"Stay down, idiot!" I shout, my voice echoing in the enclosed space. "Stupidest fucking kidnapping ever." I throw the pipe to the side with a clatter.

Breathing hard, I glare down at him as he groans on the ground. "God, no wonder Stark fired you," I snap, brushing my hair out of my face. "I can't believe I was actually gonna marry you."

He doesn't respond, and honestly, I don't care. I turn back toward the open truck door, already done with this circus. "Bucky, hurry up," I mutter under my breath.

Bucky's POV:

I see her emerge from the truck, her figure outlined by the sunlight streaming through the chaos outside. My heart skips a beat as I realize what she's holding—a metal pipe.

"Liv, what are you doing..." I mutter under my breath, knowing she can't hear me.

Through the comms, Tony's voice cuts in, full of smug amusement. "Oh, this is gonna be good. Redwing's giving me a perfect view right now."

"Tony, shut up," I growl, my eyes locked on her.

She moves with purpose, her steps steady and unflinching. Before I can do anything, she raises the pipe and strikes Quentin across the back. He lets out a grunt, collapsing to his knees.

"Did... did she just...?" I stammer, stunned.

"Oh, she did," Tony replies, his tone practically gleeful.

Quentin starts to push himself up, but Olivia doesn't give him a chance. She swings the pipe again, harder this time, sending him sprawling to the ground.

"That's my girl," I whisper, a grin pulling at the corners of my mouth despite the chaos.

"Your girl just clocked him twice," Tony says, laughing. "And you're proud. Of course you are."