Cassie's answer was a familiar rush of jets, wind tickling under her arm as Iron Man darted by, swinging easily around their blows. "Evening," he greeted casually, hovering between the combatants just long enough for Stilt-Man to absorb this information and decide he didn't like it. In that second, Iron Man was dropping out of the sky, and Stilt-Man was swinging without connecting, then throwing himself at the giant girl in his rage. Before he even touched her, Iron Man's voice was interrupting again, announcing with the same ease as his greeting, "Fire in the hole."
Stilt-Man just toppled, distracted, grabbing at his opponent to keep upright while his head swung around to find out just what Iron Man was up to. He was darting behind Cassie, only his glowing eyes appearing over her shoulder where he clutched the fabric of her costume like daintily alighting butterfly, still fluttering. Except with jet boots.
There was no explosion, but a yawn of power; first a surge in the technology of Stilt-Man's nomenclature, then a great, rending off switch. His scrambling grip on the front of Cassie's costume wasn't enough to keep him upright, and suddenly was just collapsing. Ten stories, the metal of his extended legs looping beneath him. "Catch," Iron Man suggested at Cassie's shoulder.