The third time it happened, it wasn't even Tony's fault. So, really, it was also accidental, but let's just make it clear that Tony was in no way, shape, or form responsible for the third time. He couldn't even be placed partial blame for it, that was how much it wasn't his fault. Of course, Natasha would just give him that Look she always gave him because hey – he's Tony Stark, and Russian assassins' Looks have got nothing on an angry Pepper Potts' – and Fury would gripe and fume and try to knock some sense into him to no avail, because there was no sense to be knocked anywhere, but he couldn't tease Fury for trying, which was a shame.
It had happened during another battle, where the Avengers were called to save the day, blah blah blah, protect the city, blah blah blah. Tony hadn't been paying much attention, as there wasn't much to pay attention to. Just Fury briefing them on the new giant lizard-monster-things that had sprouted up from the sewers (and wouldn't that just smell wonderful?) and, hey, they were leaking toxic acid all over New York City. So yes, the Avengers needed to be called in while the S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel evacuated all the terrified civilians before one of the lizards decided it would be a good idea to eat one of them.
A normal Tuesday, really.
So, as he was wont to do, Tony had gone to get suited up while everyone else prepared their weapons and made sure their uniforms were functioning correctly, rearranging it so it wouldn't chafe. Fury had decided to break out the new erosion-resistant under-armor for everyone who wasn't a giant green rage monster or a demi-god, and even Tony had to wear the full-length body suit, which was lame and a little bit insulting. His own suit was fucking fabulous, thank you very much. He didn't need an erosion-resistant suit underneath the one made of a half-inch thick titanium-gold alloy, because he had already tested it against as many corrosive acids as he could without JARVIS deciding he was threatening his own safety. But it was protocol, and apparently, they weren't sure if the acid from the lizard-beasts was one the human race even knew about, and Fury would bench him if he didn't wear it ("It's just a fucking body suit, Stark, get over your ego or I'll make you get over it!"), and Cap was giving him those half-puppy dog, half-assertive captain eyes. Tony never really stood a chance against the last one.
After they had all gotten suited up and had made it down to the area the lizard-things had managed to meander around to (which was only about a block in diameter, maybe a block and a half), it was clear the creatures weren't exactly hostile. They reached up to about Tony's hip area on all fours, and looked like komodo dragons that had gotten an upgrade. They were also slimy. Really, really slimy. That was what the acid was, since Tony could see it dripping down onto the pavement and burning holes the size of his hand into the asphalt every time they walked. And it wasn't even a walk, it was a freaking waddle. They waddled. Tony had to admit, if he got over the burning-everything-they-touch and the way their tongues hung out of their mouths like dogs (which, by the way, was not a sight he'd ever thought he'd see), he could definitely see himself keeping one of the things as a pet.
As they waddled, dripping acid that left potholes pretty much everywhere and would be a bitch to have to cover, they were sniffing everything they encountered like a puppy when someone new entered their house. The problem was, everything they sniffed would inevitably end up melting, which would upset them to the point of slamming their tails into the nearest possible object. It worked especially well with cars; there was a group of them around an upturned taxi, sniffing and exploring and pushing at it curiously. And yes, the taxi was, in fact, melting.
Okay, Tony thought, touching down as lightly as he could on an unaffected patch of street. His boots clunked, and the whirring slowly died down as his thrusters cooled, but the noise still garnered a few curious looks and sniffs from the lizards. Not exactly what I thought we'd be dealing with. Was kind of hoping for a bit more razzle-dazzle, actually, but Coulson's probably gonna get a paperwork boner from how non-hostile these things are.
Tony could hear Thor laughing in that loud, boisterous Asgardian way he laughed, which was really more like a boom than a laugh. "My friends! These Midgardian creatures are most amusing!"
"Not amusing, Thor, dangerous." And, yup, there's Cap, all business and "for the greater good" tone in high gear through the com-link. "There's acid… everywhere." Which was true, but that didn't mean he had to ruin Tony's fun at watching the things squirm and wag their tails when they found something new to investigate. Man, it was like watching a bunch of puppies just learning how to walk.
"Aw, come on, Cap," Tony said, drawing out the whiny syllable with practiced ease. "Look at them! They're waddling!"
"I have to agree, Captain," Natasha sounded over the com from where she was positioned near the landed Quinjet, making sure the things didn't get to close. Tony could see her jumping at the creatures brave enough or curious enough to wander over to her, and could see them scurry off before she shot them. He knew she knew that firing a shot at these things would only stress them out, and probably make everything that much worse in the long-run. So intimidation it was. He smothered a snort.
Natasha continued, "They aren't completely hostile. They're more confused over their surroundings than they are actively trying to destroy it."
"Do you think there's a way to contain them?" Steve pressured. Tony spared him a glance, and could see the minute relaxing of his shoulders and slowing of his heartbeat, which meant he was relieved he and the team wouldn't have to fight the lizards outright. "Bruce?"
Bruce was still in the Quinjet, decidedly not giant and green and using his StarkTablet to overlook the lizards' chemical and biological structure, but his voice sounded over the com, reassuring and calm. "Aside from their size and the corrosive acid they seem to be emitting, their mindset looks to be that of a young dog."
I knew it.
"You mean there are a shit ton of puppy-lizards destroying everything they touch without realizing they're destroying everything they touch?" Clint barked out, snickering to himself. Tony had given him a lift up to his perch, and the genius could tell the archer was reveling in the chance to see all of it play out from his nest.
"Yes." Bruce didn't have the right to sound that amused.
Steve gave one of his long-suffering sighs. "Alright. Do you know how we could contain them? They're destroying a lot of property."
"Not sure," Bruce replied, "But the acid doesn't seem to be working on rubber."
Tony tuned in then, and looked around at all of the potholes the lizards had created. Where the taxi had been were, in its place, its four tires, and there were a few of the lizards gnawing on the rubber like they were teething. And, well, it was something. "So, should we, what – cage them in a giant rubber playpen?"
"Well, I –" Bruce's opinion was (rudely) cut off by their Captain.
"Er, Tony?" Steve sounded pained. The brunet turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow even though he knew Steve couldn't see it, because knowing something Steve didn't was always a cause for celebration in Stark Kingdom (which meant he had celebrations a lot, Steve was fucking clueless). But now Steve looked pale and tense, and he was pointing to Tony like he was about to tackle him. Which, okay, would definitely not be good for his back.
"What?" Tony asked, genuinely a little bit puzzled, which didn't happen often. If Steve was just gonna tackle him, he should've done it by now, but he wasn't moving. His limbs seemed locked in place and his jaw was working to try to get something out. Tony considered the high-risk chance of walking over to Steve and slapping the back of his head to get some sense back into him (mostly for kicks, because Coulson would personally castrate him, the sadist) until he felt it.
It wasn't a terrible sensation, at first. More of that static-like tingly feeling you get in your limbs after they've gone numb and you have to wake them up, just about an inch below his ribcage, but then it progressively got worse. The tingling turned sharp, like a hard pinch or bee sting, spreading from about a centimeter in diameter to two inches in three seconds. Tony winced, taking a step back and then hissing as more pain shot through his torso from the area, throbbing heavily and making the pain that much worse. Then the bee sting feeling turned into a constant, pressuring stab of agony, burning his flesh and it just kept spreading. It was crawling up his ribcage and down his side, and Tony couldn't keep track of how large it had gotten because all that he thought was note-worthy about it was that it fucking hurt. He gasped for breath, hearing the rest of the team barking into their coms but not being able to register what was being said, the HUD blaring alert signals and danger warnings in front of his eyes, and even though his vision was blurry, he could still make out what the color red was, and the color red was not good. The air recycling system in the suit didn't feel like it was getting enough oxygen through, and Tony couldn't tell if it was because he was light-headed or it was because his lungs were becoming affected. And wow, was he light-headed. He could feel the brewing migraine at the base of his skull and behind his eye sockets, and wasn't that just the icing on the cake?
He barely managed to get out a choked, "Shit!" before his knees buckled on him and he collapsed, groping for the side that was on fire. It felt like his skin was being torn off and then the muscle that was left was being scorched with a match, and it wasn't stopping. He could feel it getting dangerously close to the reactor, and he didn't even notice getting turned onto his back and having the armor ripped off of him. He was panting heavily, clenching his jaw and grating his teeth through the massive migraine taking over his brain, trying to grapple at the armor chunks being torn away, but even he knew he was too weak from the pain to actually try. As his faceplate was removed, being thrown somewhere else and probably dented beyond repair, Tony blinked rapidly, trying to keep the black out of his line of sight for as long as he possibly could. Dropping unconscious at that point would probably leave him in a life or death situation, which he did not want to be a part of in any way, shape, or form.
He could see a head in front of him, blurry as shit and little to no recognizable features. Except, y'know, they were the one ripping his armor off of him and pressing a long, thick red cloth to his wound and Jesus Christ that hurt like a motherfucker, and now there was pain everywhere and his rapid heartbeat and blinding migraine were doing nothing to help with that, but he could tell it was Thor. There was an angry, accented voice snarling above him, and he could hear someone in the background shouting desperately, but he couldn't register what words were being said, so he just laid there and took all of it with the stride only Tony Stark could take in these circumstances. He was biting his lip so hard the skin had broken twice, and he could taste the copper on his tongue, and he could feel the bile threatening to rise at the back of his throat, and damn if his eyes didn't just want to pop out of his head and roll to safety.
Tony wasn't completely coherent, zoning in and out, hearing white noise in one ear and too much in the other, vision getting darker with the more time that went by. The next thing he really focused on was the arm under his shoulders and another under his knees, hefting him into the air and off the asphalt. The cranial, pelvic, and torso areas on his suit had already been completely torn off in favor of Thor's cape, tied taut around his midsection and ribcage, mopping up the blood that was sluggishly oozing from his wound and attempting to slow down the erosion of his skin to at least some affect. It was working, at least a little. The wound seemed to have stopped spreading, even if it may just be for the time being. In his half-unconscious, half-aware state of mind, Tony chalked the bastardizing pain up to one of the lizard-beasts getting too close for comfort and him not noticing until the acid had already eaten away his suit. Pretty certain the team could tell Fury those erosion-resistant body suits were total bullshit.
Then Thor was fucking flying, and yeah, okay, sure, that would be cool if Tony didn't feel like he was about to hurl up everything he'd eaten in the last two days and his side was going to destroy the arc reactor beyond repair. So yeah, flying was definitely not okay. He groaned, swallowed thickly, clamped down on his gag reflex, and huddled as close to Thor's chestplate as he could. The Asgardian armor was sleek and warm against his cheek, but it may have just been because Tony was so fucking out of it and his fever was through the roof. Wind was ripping through his sweat dampened hair, bangs plastered to his too-pale forehead. His side was throbbing unbearably, and Tony sucked in a breath through his teeth every time the pain would spike, but it was toning down minutely, nanosecond by nanosecond. He felt Thor rearrange him against his chest, rumbling in that way he did and using the new position to comb his fingers through Tony's clumped hair. He was massaging his scalp, and Tony couldn't help but let out a grunt at the feel. It was taking his mind off of the mind-numbing pain the rest of his body was in the midst of, at the least, which was a plus, and it was fighting back his migraine, which was also a plus.
He's passed out before Thor had touched down on the Helicarrier.