(This thread is open to the first two people that join, it is set on Pandora (Borderlands), although the thread is a few months before the events of the first game. The thread itself takes place during the sixth month of Kiva Warwick's stay after being stranded due to gummi ship damages.

Enjoy)

[i]You know there ain't no rest for the wicked,
   Money don't grow on trees,
   I got bills to pay,
   I got mouths to feed,
   Their ain't nothin' in this world for free.
   Oh no I can't slow down,
   I can't hold back,
   Though you know I wish I could.
   You know there ain't no rest for the wicked,
   Until we close our eyes for good.
				- CTE[/i]


[i]Rust Commons West, unspecified bandit camp[/i]

The chatter from numerous men, all wearing an assortment of dirt spattered, ripped or torn clothing, some concealing their faces with bandannas or masks, died down when a woman walked through the large gate built in between a narrow rock passage. She wore light brown cargos caked with dust and old blood stains and a faded black leather jacket with the bottom sleeves torn off, which allowed a grey sleeves to move down to her wrists. The jacket was zipped up to her collarbone, with the unzipped portion covered by a light brown checker patterned scarf wrapped around her neck. Part of the bandanna was pulled up over her mouth and nose, goggles were worn, the silver lens making her eyes nearly impossible to see, and a grey hood from her shirt was drawn over her head. A bandolier was draped over her right shoulder, with sniper rounds lining the front, and the back holding a large, almost comically oversized sniper rifle for the woman's stature. A sheathe holding a menacing machete was fastened to her right leg, and a holster containing a large revolver was held beside a moderately sized pouch at the back of her belt. She was odd sight to most, people on Pandora were crazy about carrying as many weapons as possible. This woman seemed to think a mere two guns and a long knife were enough.

The bandits were tense, making a point to draw their weapons and rest them on their knees, glaring at the woman as they sat on various crates in front of their crudely made homes of steel. A closer examination of the woman was enough to confirm her as a bounty hunter infamous among Pandora's bandit population.

Warwick, she'd come out of nowhere six months ago with nothing but the ratty clothes on her back and quickly made her name known as more than just a wannabe killer in it for a bit of cash. She took any and all assignments. The start of her career was little more than taking jobs to clear out Skag nests, though her name became known when she was tasked with hunting a variety of wanted criminals in New Haven, where she was mostly based. It was always the same, that strange sniper rifle carried a single shot, but that was enough for her. She'd sneak into a bandit camp, wait patiently for days (or so the stories say), then nail her target with a shot powerful enough to make his head a bloody mess of brain matter.

Naturally, people loved her. Though her quiet nature and minimal speaking habits made people cautious of her. She never bothered to make contacts, she had a stare that would make most turn and walk away. The various gun corporations wouldn't sponsor her, she had no record of purchasing any weapons, instead sticking with that strange sniper rifle. In short, people liked her work, but not the person behind the gun. Though they needed her too much to say anything, bandit activity was as low as it had been in years.