Pandora... Few knew what it actually meant, where it stemmed from. Go through enough researchers, if you truly cared enough about such a desolate place, and you might find out that the junkyard of a world was long ago named after a mythological box from a forgotten planet. Dig even further - though, why would you? - and you might find the significance of the mythological item. Perhaps you'd get a kick knowing it. Perhaps there was a degree of morbid amusement in how even when this planet was first colonized that the people back then knew it would be a complete shithole, for they named it after a box which was said to contain every evil in the world: Avarice. Pride. Prejudice. Envy. Theft. Rape, and murder. It was said that this thing, this 'pandora's box' contained a shred of hope despite all of these evils, but anyone who had spent even a month on the planet, even a goddamn day, could see that if any such hope existed, it was simply for the agony of it then being taken away.
Pandora was a planet one person should never wish upon another.
Scale every inch of the place and you would find only two things: small colonies built of jagged sheet metal and rotten wood, settled in valleys and alcoves where the sandstorms weren't as bad, and endless stretches of wasteland. Wastelands of dirt and wild beasts, wastelands of rancid trash piled upon rancid trash; neither was realistically inhabitable. The only people you might even find in venturing out to such places, should you go mad, were bandits, savages of society who holed up in such places because they were so awful that not even a rival gang would put up with it to come and shoot them dead.
Why live in such a world? Because you were born here, and because there was no way out. There were no ships off of the planet, the galaxy well aware of the type of people living here and in the value in keeping them isolated. The planet was allowed to continue existing solely to serve as a garbage dump, rather than dump into space where a lightspeed ship might strike debris and go up in flames without even knowing it. So why come to such a place? That was often the question, the joke toward any new faces; the poor bastards had no clue they'd never be able to leave, did they? Oh well. Not like it really mattered. Most 'visitors' were skag food within their first week anyway.
"Well goddamn," Rade Zayben said with a laugh, middle-aged and bald, leaning forward on the counter of his sheet metal booth at the Circle of Death, a 'sport arena' in the Arid Badlands. He leaned forward in a heavy, sloppy slump, shameless in the fact that he didn't know the name, hell, eye, or hair color of the person standing in front of him, outside the booth. "They ain't anything great, but I can't quite remember the last time we had a woman out here." His eyes finally rose above her chest to meet hers. "What are you drinkin', sweetheart?"
"...Hm? Anyway, you saw my post over on the board, did you? Well, fine. Heh heh. It'll be a shame to see you torn to bits, but maybe if the pieces of you left over are big enough... A woman 'round here goes for quite a bit 'a cash, you know. Even half of one would fetch a nice price. Though I suppose it matters what half." Breaking his glance, Rade looked over about forty feet to the metal entrance of the arena. Once closed, it now raised as the cheering of the few dozen people inside gradually died down. "Heh... looks like they got 'im. Another sucker I don't gotta pay."
Back to the woman. "Anyway," back to her chest, "the standard going rate is four grand. You go in. Skags everywhere. They win, you get eaten alive and everyone has a laugh. You win, you get four grand. Very simple. Even a woman should be able to understand those rules." Smirking, he cast another look over to the now-open gateway into the arena. The skags, some quite large, could be seen in the distance being rounded up and ushered back into their pens. Back to her chest. "Though you being a female and all is a rare treat, so I'm gonna go out and make you an offer for my customers." He looked down, eyes trailing her flat abdomen to her crotch and thighs. Then, an ever-wicked smile, he looked back to the woman's chest. "You take off that top 'n bottom, you manage to slay those shits in there like that, and I'll think about adding something to the prize to make it worth your while."<|im_end|>
You could call Pandora a festering heap of corruption, and you wouldn't be far from the truth. The parched, arid lands were decidedly inhospitable, bleached dry by centuries of basking beneath the planet's merciless suns- The cloudless sky a blurred, rancid blue, doing absolutely nothing to stop the slow roasting of the endless plains stretching out beyond...Inhabited mostly by scags, mercenary gangs, and wretched, devolved subhumans. Those who could usually cowered indoors, out of the bleak, blistering sun- Those who couldn't didn't last too long.
Natural selection in action.
The armored security booth was a rusting hunk of metal, still solid, but sand-blasted and pitted as everything on this wretched planet, pornographic etchings and crude graffiti the only hint of color in the ramshackle Arena; Considering how short, brutal, and simply ugly life on Pandora was, the popularity of blood sports- As well as the up-and-coming Mad Moxxi's Underdome Riot- was depressingly clear- After all, the locals didn't have cable.
In sharp contrast to the booth's slovenly occupant, the woman standing before him- A rare enough sight- was absolutely smokin' hot. The killer curves of hip, bust and ass were only outlined by her tight leather apparel, her legs sheathed in tight leather jeans, battered from months of travails- A pink half-shirt exposing a tempting glimpse of navel and flat belly...
Lilith sighed, and snapped her gloved fingers, in a futile attempt to draw the man's eyes back up- God alone knew how many times the Siren had tried to keep his train of thought from derailing. She rolled those deep brown eyes in sheer exasperation, her vivid crimson hair a splash of color in the murk. The women on Pandora tended to be a lot like the men- Gritty, ugly, and crude, quickly swelling up from the day-to-day struggle of survival...Compared to them, Lilith looked like something out of a wet dream.
A low 'tsk' parted her lips, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of interest at the offered bounty; Rade's smirk, however, was what *really* decided her. Life on Pandora was like a piranha tank - Show *any* weakness, any at all, and quite suddenly, they were *all* over you. Four *thousand* was a not-inconsiderable sum~ And she'd been spending the *last* few months running a series of equally bizarre, inane errands, back-and-forth across Pandora's rocky surface. This came as absolutely *no* surprise.
In time, people *can* get used to anything. Or they die. See a pattern?
"Deal," Lilith purred, her voice low, husky, and acid-sweet; For a woman who claimed to gain her powers from crossing the 'Hotness Threshold', she sure wasn't shy about showing it off- Though the thought of walking out there, in front of hundreds of the worse kind of hyperactive degenerates, screaming for blood and carnage...It made her skin crawl. Still, her apple-red lips curled into a confident, beckoning smile...And scarcely had he finished, when there was the dry *rasp* of leather of skin as the Siren pulled her *tight* leather apparel off- Slithering out her shirt, her nimble fingers unclasping the belt fastening her tight-fitting jeans- revealing only her hot pink undershirt...And surprisingly lacy undergarments, clinging to her long, toned legs...
With a disdainful flick of her wrist, the lovely redhead rebuckled her bandoleer, the old, rusted- But still *entirely* lethal guns hanging from her webbing, as she bundled her clothes aside! Her feet, arched high on heeled boots, creaked as the Siren sauntered forward, heedless of the hot breeze on her bare skin- About to walk into the arena in little more than a tight-fitting shirt, and lacy black panties!
"Take a picture, cueball," she suggested, her full lips curling into a distinctly nasty smirk. "-It lasts *longer*." Without another word, Lilith sauntered right past him, with the sultry, hip-rolling gait that seemed second nature to her- To the roars of the crowd, as she walked out into the ring...Armed with a shitload of guns and a *very* bad attitude!He'd *better* have the money, she thought, darkly-...Or I'll show that frig a whole new *world* of pain...<|im_end|>