All of the guards stared, shocked, even as the Crimson Dynamo tossed the door that was supposed to keep such an invasion at bay down the hall out of his way, the metal screeching on the floor until it came to a rest. It wasn't exactly what they had been trained for. This thing was supposed to be on their side and, after all, they were supposed to have that door there to keep anyone from getting in. To their raised guns, the Dynamo only canted his head, and it wasn't until the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. advanced on them that they started firing.
Seconds lost. The Crimson Dynamo raised his hand to dispatch one of the guards with electric pulse even as he turned his attention to the consoles that stood between him and nuclear winter. That was, if the Bugs didn't find a way to wipe them all out before it set in. A bullet still glanced off his metal shell as he dropped to his knees in front of the computers, too heavy for the chairs, and started to tear the armor away from his arm to reveal retreating gold and the queer sight of a human sized hand below.
He needed to approach this the same way he had on the Horizon: integrate his own programming with theirs through cybernetic IV. By the time he was squeezing the wires carefully threaded under the thin skin on the inside of his arm, another two minutes and forty two seconds had passed. But all of the monitors were responding, discarding old directives for Extremis', and the countdown to impact that Tony could only guess was accurate that had been hovering before his eyes was transferred to half of them to tick ominously in unison. With his still armored hand, Tony tore the Crimson Dynamo helmet off, letting it fall to the floor with a ring of metal he didn't hear as his eyes searched the monitors, hair already matted with sweat.