This was a familiar feeling. The full body ache, nothing feeling properly attached and slight nausea coupled with the tight squeeze of his ribs and the jerking starts and stops that made his stomach roll. "C-hap..." he accused, trying peel open his heavy eyelids, his brow furrowed in frustration. If he could just control one fist he could punch the idiot for torturing him like this when he knew fucking well that Tony would rather die in the fire or whatever Steve was dragging and jerking him away from this time. Gradually, he found the motivation to plant one foot in front of him and find his balance, fighting out of the hold, the blank spots of his memory filling in as he dragged himself back into control. Jesus, fuck, Raven shot him in the hand.
He wasn't sure where he was yet, but Tony knew he wanted to be away from there as fast as possible. Finally, the armor fully assembled around him, protecting what was left of his hand and any other fleshy part Mystique wanted to punch a hole through, and he kicked away from the ground and out of reach. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, just shy of bumping into the ceiling, wondering how he was even alive right now and if he had just narrowly avoided being thrown off of his own building. He must not have been out for long.