There is a fantastically different definition from the 21st century meaning of Pinup and the 31st. In the 21st, it means a woman or man, usually attractive, in a pose with very little or no clothing, usually in a position of sexual gratuity.
In the definition of the 31st Century, Mekt Ranzz has found a way to actually make real money after leaving prison and trying to make a living without being a superhero as his brother suggested.
(For now, at least.)
The way to define the Pinup of Mekt's century is not something that can truly be transcribed into words, but people know it when they see it. Sort of like the eternal meaning and understanding of pornography.
There is a company in New Metropolis, where they interview a person, record their voice and stand them in a room where they can take a 3D reconstructive image of their nude form. Then they take down their checking information and have them sign a contract so that the person cannot outsource unless they feel like paying penalty fees.
The image of the person, as far as Mekt knows, is then sent out to be used by design, writing, realty advertising and, as suggested, pornography firms.
What happened with his image and his face in its entirety, Mekt would never know in absolute terms, but so far he knows this:
There is a book where he was a homeless junkie with a heart of gold. Another book where he was a sexually abused boy kept in a basement until he was sixteen and the police found him after his abuser was killed in a vehicular accident. Another book, a medical journal, where his figure was used to explain the fascinating results of an attack by a Lightning Beast.
There was a poetry collection in an area of Earth where Paris used to be, where his voice was used to quote the angsty, too dramatic words of teens and people in their forties with far too much time on their hands. There was a celebrated hit song where his voice was used in the introduction because the real vocal artist sounded like a geek when he wasn't in the zone and focusing on a song.
There were magazines that used him to showcase a black leather jacket with feather lining along the bottom and cuffs that accentuated his frail neck and how lonely he looked in the background they'd used (a garage covered in leaking water and dark shadows on the walls). A headshot they used where Mekt was looking up at the three moons of a small planet; three silver earrings were the product being sold, an extra gold ring planted on his crooked eyebrow. There was a showcase for boots where he was bent over a stairwell lacing six different brands up to his knees.
There were a good collection of sexual films he was used in, far more than any of the other things they used his body for. A nightmare scene with three Thanagarian females tossing him around in the air while removing his clothes. A sort of 1920′s barroom wherein he was the barest minimum that could actually be called a suit while dancing with someone that could have been male or female or both, lots of kissing involved, lots of tongue and smoking afterwards. A moment of shared madness between himself, two broad shouldered, black haired, blue eyed men, as well as a ginger that was smaller than the other two, but bigger still than Mekt. (He will admit he bought that recording with his earning.)
After a six month period, not realizing that Garth had really made him comfortable enough to join the Legion and make him actually forget he'd sold his image like a meat sandwich or a bottle of draft bear, he checked the account where his earnings from the exchange were sent.
He didn't really touch it until a Legion cruiser was blown up, or someone had to be bailed out of a foreign prison under circumstances where they couldn't contact Brande, or Ayla wanted to go to college and there was no way in the seven hells their parents could afford it.
He could safely say that he was comfortably well off and fully understood why some people considered it rude if people asked how much they made in finance after five more years of Mekt being a 31st Century Pinup.