Al had started his run for the handler planning to drift right at the last minute and use the driver's side of his car to crush the guy against the side of the van, but was delighted to see the van rise into the air, leaving the man standing in the open. Well, Rick had said he was a master of telekinesis, which, as brands of Satanism go, was not the worst. The split second it took the guy to realize he was exposed was time he didn't have, though he still managed to spray Al's windshield with armor-piercing rounds in the moment between having his femurs shattered and being thrown over the top of the car. One round nicked Al's ear, but the shatterproofing held and the resin screen stayed mostly intact.
"Stop, look, an' lissen, asshole."
Glancing into the rearview to check on Yukika and Robyn, Al's eye instead caught the distant figure back by the safehouse raising his weapon. Al instantly downshifted and yanked on the wheel, sending his car clear of his attacker's burst as he described a tight one-eighty amid the screech of burning rubber. Now facing the man, Al watched his weapon explode in a shower of sparks, which answered his question about whether Robyn was okay.
"Good thing, ya sumbitches," he muttered to the voodoo gods. "Ol' Al woulda fired the lot o' ya, an' don't think I wouldn't."
The shadow surrounding Al reminded him he was stopped directly beneath the van, which instead of peacefully floating was shaking violently. Not good to be under it. A touch on the gas and Al was roaring back to pick up Jackhammer, even as the airborne van began flying towards the landbound one.