Vance Valentine smoothed his shimmering lapels and stepped onto the dusty flats of planet Auster. He needed a hook. Not just a show, but a signature that would make every viewer point and shout his name. He was going to be the biggest face on this planet, and faces like his deserved a frame. He dragged his pink-curtained stage into the open and bolted his name sign above it in giant purple letters. He angled the broadcast dish toward the sky. Still, something felt flat. A stage was just a stage. A name was just a name. Then the wind shifted, and his reflection caught in the broadcast dish. His mutated cheekbones shimmered violet under the suns. He grinned. That was it. The hook was him. He powered up the holographic billboard and tested a bit. He stepped into frame, tilted his chin, and let the light catch his strange skin. "Hello, Auster," he purred, brushing one clawed finger under his jaw. "Your Valentine has arrived." The chin-tilt and claw-tap clicked into place like a key in a lock. The billboard looped his signature move across the flats in glowing color. Vance Valentine had his hook. Now he just needed someone, anyone, to actually be watching.