John Smith, the infamous Bounty Hunter, touched down on Nar Shadaa by registered transport 5 years earlier.

At the moment, John was in one of the many cantinas that covered the planet. John was sick and tired of the planet. 'I need passage of this wretched planet.' he thought to himself as he chugged his java juice in the corner of the cantina.

He sat watching as the new crouds filled the cantina. He watched looking for promis among them to fly a ship. Or a useful bounty. Any signs of anything he watched. He needed to get on the payroll as he was running out of money for these drinks.

A dirty obsession but still in need.