The armor was squeezing around Tony, and he didn't know why; he knew that it wasn't necessarily uncomfortable, just tight, like that last hit had him swelling up before a bruise could even set in. It was only as he scrambled away, crawling through the rubble to put some space between himself and Thor's new clash of might (which, finally, made a little bit of sense; Hulk wasn't known for his considerate actions), that Tony finally realized how goddamn scared he had been since the first shotgun blast back at the house. It was a sinking, cold feeling that had been clawing at him since he first was recruited to this sham of a team and had become so familiar that he couldn't even recognize it anymore until he was squeezing the protective shell of his armor to his limbs. At least he wasn't hot. There didn't need to be any more rage in this mix.
At a safe distance, where nobody was going to grab him, Iron Man leapt out of the crevice their impact had made for them and rushed toward Alex and-- US Agent was gone. Didn't matter, not for now while Iron Man slid to a stop at the kid's side and survey the damage. "Hey, brat," he said, trying for a laugh in his voice to keep Alex's attention, "What happened, you let that asshole get to you? God, you're a handful, aren't you?" It did not look good. Iron Man was tentative to press a hand to Alex's chest, feeling a stuttered rise and fall but a gnarly, limping beat of a pulse. "Hey, come on, the doctor's already on his way..." he insisted, wincing one eye shut in irritation as Hammer's voice cut in demanding answers that Tony could hardly be expected to fully understand. "I don't know, I don't know," he admitted, not thinking to cut the projection where Alex could hear him, if Alex could hear him. "We need an ambulance, he just shot this kid, he lined him up and he shot him, why would he do that?" That was only the tip of this iceberg.