Okay, there was always Plan B. Make everyone think you've never touched a gun then pull a move like that. Juggling his new hostage, his gun, and the battery, Tony didn't pause to give it too much thought, just made for the door dragging the reluctant guy by his hair with the muzzle of his gun digging into his ribs, keeping the body between him and the other attackers. He forfeited the defense for speed at the exit, shoving the guy away and making a run for it, the battery tucked under his arm and the sheet still trailing him, and the kid just four-- six-- a few feet behind. Tony had to skip to keep from stumbling over the sheet or his own feet when he shook his head, his eyes squeezed shut even as he ran with the slap of his bare feet echoing in the narrow hall, his head buzzing. Four feet, four and a half maybe.
Close enough to grab by the arm and slam through a door, jerk him back, chest pressed to his back, breathing jaggedly against his neck and holding him tightly with one arm, trying to listen.
That didn't really work. In a hurried, breathless whisper, he said, "They took something, I don't know how, but we have to get it back. We can't go until they don't have it."