Clearly miffed, Iron Man ran his hands over his chest, checking for cosmetic damage that he clearly didn't deserve and would absolutely ruin the symmetry of his design. As if Spider-Man ripping their guns from their hands wasn't bad enough, it seemed as though Iron Man wasn't even taking them seriously. "I never liked you," the shooter growled at Spider-Man, pointing an accusatory finger. "What makes you think we need your help?"
"Zombies," Iron Man supplied, satisfied with his appearance and shrugging thoughtfully, "for instance."
"We got it covered, brother," the man said, sneering at the brains spattered on the wall. "Now why don't you give those back--" The third man, still crouched by the body, suddenly lurched forward and unhinged his jaw, unfurling a grossly long tongue that stretched the length between himself and Spider-Man to snap around the Avenger's neck like a whip. Iron Man cursed and threw his hands up again to shove the mutant back with a repulsor blast, leaving him open to a wild tackle, claws he hadn't noticed before scraping eerily across metal for purchase.