That flame was scorching; Iron Man could feel the skin on the highest points of his arm blister even under the suit before the brunt of the heat was turned away from him, letting him lift his head curiously out from the protective duck and cover he had thrown himself into just in time to see the fire thrown back at Tony. That was a dangerous cocktail, one part gratifying to two parts horrifying with a gross, bacon-flavoured garnish that Iron Man very quickly thought to filter out before he could ruminate on it too long as Tony's face, chest and hands blackened in the blowback.
Iron Man was on his feet finally by the time Tony recovered, hardly a step taken between them when Tony was launching himself forward again with a horrible, extra-wide skull's snarl, darting wildly underneath Wanda and leaping to kick off the side of the building and reverse to meet her in the air like a crazy, crispy fucking monkey. Iron Man, half a beat behind, shot straight up instead and was just overhead by the time Tony came at Wand with his hands out like he would tear her apart; the posture mirrored in Iron Man meant a double blast of repulsors, which Tony caught in the chest and shoulder and was barely knocked askew. He had no fucking fear. This was Mallen all over again. Someone was going to die here.