Effie was dead. Annie couldn't find the compassion within herself to be sad that the girl was gone. She did, however, feel a pang of sympathy for Bruce. That guy wasn't a killer, and he held so much guilt over the big green version. She hoped he didn't remember it. She hoped that maybe it had been an accident, so if he ever did, he'd know it wasn't his fault.
"What?!" Annie's attention snapped to what was happening here and now when she heard Tony's instruction for running. She found herself getting much closer, so she could look at Tony. "You're just going to let him go? He fucking shot me! He was going to hurt me again!"
She looked at the guy who had been her terrorizer. If Tony hadn't come along when he had, there would have been more than just tears and fear, she was sure of it. He'd had that look in his eye, that smile on his face. With the suit on, Annie felt less afraid, though not entirely free of that feeling. Her right arm was still exposed, so even if she had known how to hit somebody properly, her hitting hand wasn't armored. She'd probably break her hand.
"You're sick." She said to him, glaring. Moving a little more behind Tony again when she realized how close she'd gotten to the man. "You shoot a girl you don't even fucking know for no reason."
She wanted to start a car and run him over with it. Her gaze caught all the people, though, when she looked for one. Maybe that was why Tony was going to just let him go instead of pounding him into a sidewalk smear. All the people watching. Annie wasn't actually mad at him for not hurting the guy, but she really did want to see him in some pain.