I Am So Sorry.

So unbelievably sorry.

I am a LIAR.

Whelp, excuse time. Bout of mild pneumonia, food poisoning, severe dehydration, passing out once, my computer erased this chapter like, twice, so this is the re-write of a re-write…and I've had midterms, and I'm double majoring, and I just finished season 5 of Merlin and needed time to grieve, and I've had writer's block. So…yeah.

I will never issue a challenge to reach a goal of reviews again. Because I don't write the stuff before hand (I like your suggestions) I never know when my muse will stop for a visit. She has currently been on strike.

And just a note, I do a teensy bit of delving into the relationship between Tony and Bruce, and I just wanted to let you know I fully support the platonic ScienceBros. I BroShip them. I BroShip them hard. And the Stark Spangled Banner. (all platonic of course, Pepperony is my OTP.)

Ladies, gentlemen, and variations thereupon; it's time to play SPOT THAT REFERECE! First one who can correctly find the reference and name the Fandom wins a box of virtual Chocolate Frogs! (Btw, that is NOT the reference.) You will also be granted a shoutout on the next chapter's Author's Notes. May the odds be ever in your favor! (that's also not the reference…) It's kinda small, easy to miss if you're not looking for it, so I'm going to tell you it refers to THE ANGEL OF THURSDAY. *hint hint nudge*

oOo

As crap as this day had already been, it just had to get worse, didn't it? Wasn't that Murphy's Law or something?

First Tony had been woken up by that stupid "AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!" alarm at Oh-Dark-Thirty, then he had been bitched out by Fury, then he spilled his coffee, a capital offense, then he found out that some of the people that had the biggest beef with him were back in town, and now this. Stupid. Fight.

As battles go, this really wasn't the worst that any of them had seen. Hammer Tech was just as crappy as he had remembered it. But these things were like bees. One or two, hey, no problem, just get a shoe and be on your merry way. But when that one or two decide to call in a million of their little buzzing buddies, it's a bit of a different story.

And lookie here. Just make my day worse.

Sir, JARVIS said, there is a new damage report on the suit.

Well shit. JARVIS didn't just do those for nothing. "Talk to me, Jarv, what we got."

Pressurization systems failing, sir. They seem to have been damaged in the last barrage.

Tony dodged a spray of cheap missiles. "Details. How much we got left?"

Pressurization systems running at twenty-three percent capacity, sir. Tony swore violently, then dropped, slowly, back down closer to the earth. This system was the only thing allowing him to rise and dive as quickly as he did without him passing out with blood coming from his ears. Yeah. Not pretty. So, battle plans have to change a bit…

Wait, holy crap, was that Bruce? Tony was only able to see the dark hair and pale skin of the naked man lying unconscious before he was pulled back into the fight.

Tony ducked and rolled, blasted and smashed (Big Green would be so proud!), and soon, there were only three left. Three blasts to the circuit boards later, and they were…done.

As the last piece of smoking metal fell from the sky, Tony just hovered for a second and breathed. He took inventory of himself, (battered, but I'm fine) and the suit, (eesh. Needs some TLC), and then he heard the Captain over the headset in the suit.

"Avengers, come in. Hawkeye, you copy?" Oh, thank god for that stupid soldier. If Steve hadn't done roll call, Tony would have had to do it, and god forbid anyone think he actually liked these sons-of-bitches.

"Copy that, Captain. No sign of any more bots this way and no major injuries. I'm located a few blocks away from your position." Whew. Clint was ok.

"Good. Widow?"

"All clear, Captain. I'm fine, but there are a few civilians here, they need medical." Natasha too. But she sounded like she was hurt, and trying to hide it. Tony, who had known Natasha for longer than Steve had, could tell the difference, but it was slight. He was willing to bet his Malibu car collection that Clint was worrying his feathery little ass off.

"Iron Man, have JARVIS tell Fury."

JARVIS was already working on it before Steve finished his sentence. Tony rolled his eyes at Steve's refusal to check up on Tony. Seems Tony wasn't the only one hiding a bit of brotherly love around here. "Will do, Cap. I'm fine, thanks for asking."

"Shut up, Stark." Tony rolled his eyes again. Then Steve asked, "Thor, you there?"

"I am here, Captain Rogers. All is well, and we are victorious."

"Good. Do any of you have a visual on the Hulk?"

A thrill of genuine fear rushed through Tony. While he knew that nothing could really hurt Bruce, Tony was fiercely protective of all of his friends, and none less than his ScienceBro.

"Um…I'm circling back; I think I saw him passed out in geeky doctor form a few minutes ago. I'll let you know."

"Thanks, Stark. No one has major injuries?"

A chorus of no's echoed through Tony's helmet. Tony let out another sigh of relief. And then, as Tony swooped back toward the open area where the Quinjet was just beginning to land, Tony spotted his best friend. Butt-ass naked. "Oh, lookey there, Bruce in all his naked, skinny self. Anyone got some extra sweatpants?" Tony swooped down to check on him, gently shaking his shoulder, which elicited a light groan from the doctor, who scrunched his eyes closer together and turned his head away. He didn't seem injured though, just like he didn't want to be woken up.

"Does he look OK, Stark?" asked Steve in his I-Am-Captain-America-So-Don't-Mess-With-Me voice.

"Looks fine from here, aside from some post-Hulk-bender unconsciousness."

Bruce struggled to a sitting position, covering his nakedness awkwardly, and said, "Hey Tony. What happened? Is everyone OK?"

Tony flipped his mask up and gently patted the doctor on the shoulder with a red and gold hand. "Everything looks hunky-dory, Bruce. Now all we've got left to do is cleanup, and to arrest that rat bastard for good this time."

"Good, good," said Bruce distractedly, rolling his neck and shoulders to try to get some of the soreness out.

"Hey, the Quinjet just landed, so I'll go get you some pants or something, alright? Wouldn't want to make the Cap blush."

This comment did exactly what Tony wanted and made Bruce blush furiously. "Thanks, Tony."

With a double gun motion to his bestie, tony flipped his visor down, and went to blast off in search of Bruce's unmentionables.

As soon as Tony had crossed maybe a quarter of the intersection, in plain sight of where Bruce sat in an alley, something slammed into him so hard, it knocked him clear out of the sky and across the street.

Head pounding, ears ringing, and side burning to all hell (must have broken a rib, he thought in the back of his mind) Tony pushed himself up into a standing position, where he promptly got knocked down again and pinned by the biggest robot Tony had ever seen.

This thing was huge, bigger than the Iron Monger, but it was obvious that, while there couldn't have possibly been a man inside of it, Obadiah's suit was the original inspiration.

Dark grey, bulky arms reached down almost to the ground, where huge repulsors took the place of feet. A domed head swiveled completely around to stare at Tony with its small lit-up eyes.

Before Tony could do more than register all this information, the DeathBot (as Tony quickly dubbed it) reached down with incredible speed for its size and seized Tony's left arm and wrenched it around with a sickening crack.

Tony saw spots. He heard a scream echo in the near vicinity, but it took a moment for him to understand that it was his scream. As Tony looked down at his ruined arm, the DeathBot shoved him back into the rubble of the torn up street. He vaguely registered the cry of "Tony!" through the coms, but he was much more concerned with the way that his arm was on fucking fire, it felt like, and the metal incasing it was ripped and torn, pieces of it jamming into his skin, and—Jesus Christ, is that a bone?!

The DeathBot loomed over him, raising one arm in a promise of certain death, as Justin Hammer's voice sounded from the robot. "I told you, Tony! I told you I'd make you pay for what you did to me! Now you're-"

But what exactly Tony was they never found out, because a large mass of green fury roared and slammed into the robot, knocking it to the side, and ripping one of the large metal arms off and throwing it to the side. Thanks, Banner, my friend, Tony thought.

"Tony! Oh my God, Tony, are you OK?" Tony saw a blur of blond hair and Patriotism, and two black figures rushing in to help him, while a blur of red and gold and lightning flew towards the wreckage of the DeathBot still being pulverized by the Hulk.

His head was still pounding, ears ringing, eyes fuzzy, couldn't think, couldn't move, couldn't breathe from where the thing smashed into his side. As he gasped in air, everything seemed to swirl around, making him feel the need to throw up everything he had ever eaten in his whole life, and then some, but wait, throwing up would hurt, and hurting's bad, so Tony swallowed hard against that reflex in his throat, and tried to move, to get up, to go home, to do something, but ohmigod that hurts.

"No, Tony don't move, just stay there, you hear me? Can you hear me Tony? Come on, Iron Ass, say something, you're never this quiet!"

Oh. That must be Clint. Steve would never say ass.

Tony tried to snap back with some witty retort but his brain was fresh out of wit at the moment, so a pained groan slipped from his lips instead. Hands were slipping around his head, fumbling with the manual release to start dismantling the suit.

"Guys, he's losing a lot of blood here!"

"Try to get his armor off!"

"Can you carry him to the quinjet?"

"-medical on standby."

"Pupils' uneven-"

And then, once Tony was sure this was as bad as his day could possibly be, it. Got. Worse.

He was expecting pain at this point; there was pain everywhere, in his arm, his head, his side. But what he did not expect was the freaking torrent of agony that exploded from his chest, like a lightning bolt hit his chest straight on. Tony arched off the ground with a choked scream as the light in the Arc Reactor flared, dimmed, and flared again. He could feel it, the pain from the electricity, the shift of the shrapnel in his chest, the weight in his lungs as it became impossible to just breathe

And he could feel his heart jerk once, and then completely stop.

oOo

Well. Another Cliffie.

I'M SORRY OK?!

And if you want anything special to be in here (MilkyWayGalaxy your wish is my command!) just tell me, and I'll try to work it in. If you see anything hideously wrong with this, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD TELL ME. I'M AN ENGLISH MAJOR I NEED PEER REVISION LIKE I NEED AIR.

The reason I broke his arm 1) he needs his hands. A compound fracture like this could completely ruin his left hand for good 2) I'm whumping on him elsewhere, as you can see, and 3) have you ever had a broken arm or leg? Have you seen those movies or read stories where someone breaks a limb and just keeps on going?! LIES. ALL LIES. THIS SHIT HURTS.

So, knives and pitchforks away, dear readers.

Until next time,

You Know You Wanna Be Kate!