"Hey man, don't look at me. I didn't bring a Mormon van along. I came here in a Toyota because..." well, because his usual ride was just a little too easy to tail and he wasn't expecting to stick around and grab people. 

He raised an eyebrow at surgical mask girl and made sure to clear the line of sight and fire between him and Flint, just in case. He did it with just a bit of a smirk, but managed to hold off on gesturing with a flourish, like a matador letting a bull through. Suddenly, they had bigger problems than Flint and some hitter at the doorstep; there was a familiar sound that wasn't quite a shotgun blast, and then the shriek of a rocket. 

"DOWN DOWN DOWN!" he yelled even as he dove for ground and he didn't give a fuck what got broken when he went for the best cover he could locate in a pinch -- the memories were there and so were the reflexes, but it wasn't aimed for them. Still, the concussion from the blasts cracked and broke windows and rocked a building not designed to actually withstand a B-40 or something goddamn close to it. He didn't know who he yanked down hard to the ground like that, but it was the old infantryman's reflex, and it brought back all the bad memories. 

Instead, his car went up. It took a few tries to blow one of the other cars, but apparently they had goddamn rockets to spare. Not to mention the ammo; Tony tried to peek over a window a bit and the suppression fire started.

It was an attack with an utter disregard for the Concealment Edict, but it was effective and kept the fighting at a range -- the supernatural community tended to work with swords and claws, maybe handguns at most, not heavy weaponry. Whoever designed the attack knew that outright urban combat was way outside of the expectations and preparations of the supernatural community. It was the rare member of it that prepared for attacks that belonged in Khost Province, Afghanistan here in New Camden.

"Parael, you got a back door out of this fuckin' place, man?" He howled over the din, because the guys firing the shit weren't gonna hear what they had to say anyway; they must have been fifty yards away at least, probably more. You had to be loud to be heard in a fight, and that's why Tony was shouting.