There's no missing the bullets at that range. They rattle into his chest, burrowing into it. He grunted painfully, but it did not stop him. The blood ax that Iron Man had seized shifted shape and began to wrap around his armored arm, creeping around looking for some sort of entrance. He allowed his other axe to shift shape into a wrist guard. With one hand freed, he pressed it against his bloodied chest.

The bullet shells and the blood were starting to change shape. He was making armor for himself, out of his own blood.