The man's hand came out- empty.
The four men paused, scarred and hard-bitten faces contorted into expressions of surprise and dismay. They'd managed to restrain Arlene fully now, one man had each arm and another was stopping her from kicking. He'd started by trying to keep her quiet, but changed his priorities after she delivered a well aimed jab to his lower regions with her feet. She knew exactly why they weren't just taking the bag off her. Some haversacks would only work properly while held by their owner. Her bag had no such feature, but they obviously didn't want to risk the chance.
"She's supposed to have it!"
"Was he lying?"
"I don't think he was- not in that state."
"It might be the bag doesn't recognise it! Try asking something else!"
The leader plunged his hand into the bag again and yelled, "A legacy from her grandfather!"
His hand emerged holding- A yellowing magazine, it's title showing an extremely modestly clothed woman with her dress hitched ever so slightly above her ankles.
"Girls and Garters..... The hell is this! Piece of ***** bag! Give what I bloody want!"
He thrust his hand in again, more violently than before, only to suddenly contort in pain-
"GAAAAH!"
He fell backwards screaming, a long handled screwdriver impaled into his palm.
As his companions looked in horror at the blood spreading across their leaders white gloves, rough hands seized them.
"Oi there. Ya absolute Numpties! You're some swank outta townies tryina force a lady like that and right in front of us too! You bloody sicko's!" The men in suits may have been imposing, but physically, the workers from the Light of Lumiere were on another level. Before any of Arlene's attackers could voice a protest, they were surrounded and the first punch had been thrown, a meaty swing that dislodged a tooth from the man who'd disarmed her- who staggered into the one holding her legs. Arlene's right arm was released and crouching, she swiped up the wrench she'd dropped only moments ago and swung it at the kneecap of the man holding onto her other arm while he was distracted.
The strike produced a sickening meaty thunk followed by the whip-crack of breaking bone. The last set of hands restraining her loosened and stumbling, crawling through the crush of people, she cleared the brawl and started running.
The drunks weren't great fighters, but they vastly outnumbered the men in suits. Before long, the sounds of fighting faded into the distance.
She ran. Before, she'd felt exhausted, but now fear lent her wings. Her mind worked furiously.
Her grandfather's rock, the dragon's stone. The man her attackers had mentioned.
They'd arrived here looking for her this morning, like Harper had said. They knew she had the bag.
They must've gone to her father first-
Arlene fought down a rising sickness as she realised what that meant. Her attackers weren't the sort to ask questions lightly.
"No."
She had to know. Her eyes caught sight of Long Tom. It was just going on seven. She needed to get to her house. Get that rock. Get out of the city.
Her panicked flight had carried her the last few streets to her destination- She saw Dasilva and Owen waiting outside. Cynthia still hadn't forgiven them enough to let the two inside, so they'd been out front waiting for her.
But the truly welcome sight was the man dressed in a resplendent blue and gold uniform, perched atop a four-legged Device- A watchman atop a city-strider. Large bags were packed in the recess behind the driver's seat, between the two bulky exhaust pipes.
As she watched, Harper emerged carrying several more and Arlene found her voice.
"Watchman! Please, people are hunting me!"