Her Glowing Buttflap Is A Trap Exclusive -

“Among other things,” she said, finally glancing over her shoulder. Her eyes were the color of burnt umber, and they held a mischievous glint. “You’re not here to collect my bounty, are you, handsome?”

But the bounty feed hadn’t mentioned the light.

“Salvage,” Zane repeated, mesmerized. The light shifted to a deeper, honeyed orange. It smelled faintly of cinnamon and warm circuitry. “Right. That’s why you’re wanted. The salvage.” her glowing buttflap is a trap

She left him there, drooling and smiling, with a little handwritten note stuck to his forehead: OUT OF ORDER. WILL RESET IN 6-8 HOURS. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE. Word spread fast on Veridian Station. Within a week, the glowing buttflap became a legend. Three more bounty hunters fell for it—a hulking Brute-Bot, a cybernetically enhanced lizard-thing from the Syrinx system, and a grizzled old marshal who swore he’d “seen it all.” Each one approached from behind, mesmerized by the gentle amber pulse. Each one touched it. Each one ended up on the floor, smiling at a hallucinated meadow while Vesper Rhen calmly looted their pockets, reprogrammed their droids, and used their ship credentials to access high-security salvage yards.

Vesper didn’t turn around. She just chuckled, a low, smoky sound. “You like it? It’s a custom mod. Very rare. Helps me navigate low-visibility salvage.” “Among other things,” she said, finally glancing over

“I have no tactile nerves,” Maura said. “Your trap is useless. It’s just a pretty flashlight attached to your backside.”

In the chromium-and-neon canyons of Veridian Station, a space-faring leviathan of scrap and stolen starlight, there were two ironclad rules. First: never trust a free lunch from a Vog’s food vat. Second: if a woman’s rear access panel is glowing an inviting, warm amber, you turn around and walk the other way. “Salvage,” Zane repeated, mesmerized

The station’s bounty hunter guild put out a bulletin. It read, in bold, flashing letters: