It all happened faster than Tony could keep up. One minute he was pointing out that strange controller system, and the next he was on his back the floor with a throbbing pain in his face that he really hoped wasn't going to turn into a lump or a black eye. Looking up at Barnes, it wasn't hard to put together what had happened. Why it happened was a totally different matter.

He felt something sharp poking into his back and reached underneath himself to get it, staying on the floor--and even edging back a little--for the moment. When his hand emerged with a tiny metal piece, he realized that somewhere in Barnes' little outburst the flimsy tv tray had been knocked over, spilling the arm parts all over the floor. Shit. Shit. He didn't even hear Rogers yelling, didn't care, the adrenaline from being startled quickly pouring into anger.

"You know, in a minute here I'm going to have to assume you don't want a working arm," he spat. "Because you're sure doing an outstanding job of convincing me."