Tusk Grombar's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Tusk Grombar wanted to steal the regime's greatest treasure, but he couldn't walk one block without seeing his own face. Green trunk, big belly, and all — the wanted posters showed him perfectly. He crouched inside the old gas station he called home, its rusted pumps and boarded windows hiding him from the street. Somewhere across Bowelgate sat the vault he meant to crack. He needed to scout it. He couldn't, because every wall wore his portrait. He pressed his trunk to a gap in the boards and watched two guards paste up a fresh sheet. The ink was still wet. His snout curled. Weeks of planning, ruined by his own famous face. Then his eyes fell on the theatrical decoration in the corner. It was a strange thing — a two-headed carnivorous plant, one head wearing a laughing mask, the other a weeping one. He had stolen it years ago and never sold it. Now he stared at the smiling face and grinned. A mask. If he couldn't hide his face, he would wear another one. He pried the laughing mask loose from the plant's stem. It was heavy and painted, big enough to cover his broad features. He wrapped a ragged cloak over his belly, fixed the mask, and slipped into the street. The plan worked. People glanced at the masked figure and looked away. He shuffled toward the vault district, counting guards, marking doors, memorizing the high stone walls. His alien dog trotted beside him, sniffing the gutters, drawing no suspicion. For the first time in days, Tusk moved freely. He almost laughed behind the painted grin. Then boots struck the cobbles ahead. A man in a red coat with gold trim stepped into his path. Medals covered his chest. A thin gray beard framed a hard mouth. Tusk knew the face at once — Captain Aldric Thornwall, the regime's head guard, the one who hunted every outlaw foolish enough to reach for the royal treasure. "Fine mask," Thornwall said. He did not smile. "But I know a trunk when I see one bulging under a cloak." His hand rested on his sword hilt. "You're the only alien of your build in this city, Grombar." Tusk froze. The disguise had hidden his face. It had done nothing for his shape. Thornwall snapped his fingers. Guards poured from a doorway. Tusk shoved his dog toward an alley and ran. He hurled the mask at Thornwall's face and bolted between two carts. Whistles screamed behind him. He crashed through a market stall, ducked into a drainage tunnel, and vanished into the dark. He made it back to the gas station gasping. His disguise lay in the street. The scouting was cut short. Worse, Thornwall now knew he was moving — and knew exactly what he looked like from every angle. The Captain would flood the vault district with men. Tusk wiped his trunk and stared at the ruined plant. He needed a new way in. And now the whole city was watching for him.