"Move," Conner urged, as one of the men clawed at the strap of the Muji bag, his hand bashed aside by a metallic blur she recognized as one of the drone’s arms, upraised, plowing out of the confusion on powered skates. "Virgil," Conner said, flashing her a feed from above, of a black sedan, braking hard, at the curb in front of the alley. "Go!"