Stark was really messed up, and Billy numbly that they needed to leave as he stared at the mess that was his chest...his operating room, or recovery room, or whatever the hell it was meant to be. Another crash at the door and he felt sixteen all over again, powerless and hiding from in the bathroom stalls from some bully. Just as it was then, he was never able to stay hidden long, and he swore as the door gave way, darting round the other side of the table and fumbling for a weapon.
What he found was metal tray, one he didn't think would fair too well against the gun pointed at his head, and he grew still, ready to accept whatever fate awaited him, when Stark suddenly was upright.
He made the same shocked and confused face the man nearest to him did as Stark threw up, and the gun pointed him him was lowered. Before they could assess the threat that had just presented itself with Stark stabbing the man Billy grabbed the gun. He was rather stunned by his own actions, and blinked at it a moment before pointing it with what he hoped still looked a fierce expression, despite his shaking hand. Shaking too much apparently, as it went off in his hand, narrowly missing one of the men. They didn't seem to know what to make of this, and while they puzzled out whether it was cost effective to shoot the brat he darted forward to help Stark up, keeping the gun trained on one of them at all times, eyes darting anxiously towards the door.