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.

Tusk crouched in a dark alley two streets over. His earpiece crackled with Skitter's breathing. On the rooftop above the bank, his newest recruit was trapped. Below stood Bruno Thudson, the huge guard who had spotted him. Tusk had no way up and no way to reach his crewmember before the guard forced him to talk. "Cipher," Tusk whispered into the earpiece. "I need a way out for Skitter. Now." Cipher Sprint answered from the hideout. The old hacking robot had worked for Tusk longer than most men had been alive. His voice came flat and dry. "Guard block runs on old wiring. Nobody patched it in years. Neglect is a door." A pause. "I can kill the streetlights on his block. One minute. That's all." "Do it." Above, Skitter pressed flat against the roof tiles. Bruno stared up at him, boots planted, buttons straining over his gut. "Come down," Bruno called. "Two of my men went missing on this block. You're going to tell me where." His voice was slow and blunt. He wanted the answer before word climbed to his commander. Skitter said nothing. He was fast and quiet, but the guard blocked the only fire escape. He had counted the doors and marked a low window. All of it was worthless if he could not get down. The streetlights died. The whole block dropped into black. Bruno froze, hands out, blind in the sudden dark. "Hey! Who cut the lights?" Skitter moved. He gripped the roof edge with clawed fingers and swung down the stone wall, silent as water. He passed the huge guard within arm's reach. Bruno swiped at the sound and hit only air. Skitter hit the ground running and slipped into the alley. He reached Tusk breathing hard. "Doors. Guards. All of it. Right here." He tapped his own skull. "I got out clean." Tusk gripped his shoulder. "You did the job. Nobody else could've." It was the first time he had touched the recruit like crew, not hired help. Skitter held the look a moment. He had wanted a seat inside the gang. Now he felt one open. Then the lights came back. Above, Bruno stood on the empty roof. He stared at the black wall where his prisoner had vanished. His face went red. Two guards gone. Now a rooftop thief gone too. He could not hide it any longer. Bruno keyed his radio. "Captain Thornwall. It's Thudson." His voice shook. "Something's wrong on my block. I need you here." In the alley, Tusk's earpiece caught the transmission. He heard the name Thornwall and went still. His crew had escaped with the map. But the one man who knew his face was now coming to the vault district himself. The heist had a plan again. It also had a hunter.