John Frla stood waiting on his landing pad on Coruscant's Darkshrike Club. The club was popular among criminals and other shadowy types, so it was no surprise when John's employer had chosen to meet here. Also, this place was, in way, symbolic to John. In it's shady back rooms, John had begun his career.  

John checked the chronometer on his wrist. 2:47. Time to go in. John entered the Club and was instantly hit by the smell of strong alcohol and cheap cigars. He made his way over to an empty table, where he took his leather trenchcoat off, sat down, and called over a waitress. The girl was a Zeltron, probably only 16, and was beautiful. She was also a slave. The powerful pheromones she naturally emitted, hit John like a duracrete wall as she got closer.

"What can I do for you?" the Zeltron chirped in a cheerful tone. 

"Hello, I'm John Frla. Perhaps you've heard of me? I'm the smuggler your boss has ordered for," John said in an equally cheerful voice.

 The Zeltron turned serious. "Cratan's in the back rooms. Do you know your way?"

John nodded. "Yeah, I know. Thank you." With that, John stood up and walked to the back,  through the bolted doors, and into the shadier part of the Club. Here is where illegal gambling, trading, and otherwise occurred. John walked into the first room on the right, and came in the presence of a medium sized Hutt. "Cratan," John said, bowing deeply. 

[Your ship is being loaded at this very minute. It's some extremely rare spice. Do not fail me,] Cratan the Hutt spoke through a translator droid. [The address is on this datacrystal,] the Hutt tossed up a small glinting object. John caught it with ease. 

"What about my payment," John said.

[Half of it, 200,000 credits, has already been transferred to your account. The other half will be given when you deliver the goods. Good luck.] 

John nodded and walked out of the room, twirling the datacrystal between his fingers. This would probably be an easy run. Not much to it.

He walked back through the Club and out onto the landing pads. Sure enough, some men were loading things onto John's YT-2000 freighter, the Eagle's Might. As he approached, John called out to the men, "You fellas almost done here?" 

The one calling out orders turned and said, "Yeah, just a few more crates. You get up in there and warm up the engines. You're on a tight schedule, and I'm the one who has to find new smugglers to replace the ones who failed to make deadlines."

"Ok then. Just buzz me on the comm when you boys are done," John said. The Human then turned heel, walked up the boarding ramp, closed it behind him, and made his way to the cockpit. There, he plopped into the pilot's chair, and turned on the shipboard comm yelling, "R3! Cockpit! Now!" Moments later, the little astromech rolled into the module, beeping indignantly. "Yeah, yeah, I'm sure you were coming," grunted John, as the droid fit itself into its socket, where the co-pilot's chair used to be. John inserted the datacrystal into the nav computer and said, "R3, would you kindly plot us a course to... wherever we are going." The droid whistled. "Abrae? That's Vast Empire territory. Huh, haven't been there for awhile."

Suddenly, John's personnel comm began speaking. "Ok, hotshot. We are done down here. Lock and load."

"Ok, boys. We're off. Have a nice day." And, with that, John lifted the Might off the pad and shot up, out of Coruscant's atmosphere. Once they were out of it, R3 activated the hyperdrive, and they were on their way to Abrae, faster than the speed of light. John would never lose fascination with hyperspace. He might have already seen it ten thousand times, but still the hypnotizing blue streaks were enthralling. 

Eventually, John fell asleep. Hours later, he was awoken by R3's dutiful beeping. They had reached Abrae. It's never a good idea to land while sleepy... "R3, the address is in the datacrystal. Please take us there." The droid beeped an affirmative, and John felt his ship enter the atmosphere of Abrae. John, deciding the droid could manage, stepped out of the cockpit, and made himself a cup of sim coffee. Thirty minutes later, the Might had touched down, and John was unloading spice from the freighter. The recipient, a peevish Rodian, constantly badgered John with questions the entirety of the time. The Human was relieved when he finally was able to leave Abrae. 

John checked his datapad as he took off, making sure he was paid properly. He had been. Suddenly, the Might shook, and R3 began beeping frantically. John looked up to see a massive black shape looming in front of him. "What the kark?" John muttered as he took the controls and tried to steer away from the black mass. The freighter shuddered but didn't change course. "A tractor beam? Why the frak do they have a tractor beam lock on us?" John wondered outloud. He released the controls, and sat back helplessly, as the Might was towed into the black ship's hangar. John heard the boarding ramp being forced open, and beings getting on his ship. John shot out of his seat and walked out of the cockpit, coming face to face with another Human in an Imperial officer's uniform. "Who are y- ow!" John began to ask, when a sharp poking feeling emitted from his neck. Then, John's world went black.

John woke up and found himself sitting in a hard, and rather uncomfortable durasteel chair, in a pure white room. Sitting across from him was the same officer he'd seen on board his ship... and there was something wrong with the man. It was as if John couldn't focus on him long enough to made out any identifying features. "Who are you?" croaked John, his throat dry and sore.

The officer chuckled deeply. "I suppose formal greetings were not given at our first meeting. My name is Captain Grey. And you are John Frla the smuggler, are you not?" 

"I am. What do you want?" croaked John.

"Oh, I believe we have a very intriguing business proposition for you," Grey smiled.

John couldn't help but shiver. 


Name: John Frla
Homeworld: Tatooine
Age: 29
Species: Human
Languages: Basic, droidspeak
Gender: Male
Height: 2 meters
Weight: 70 kgs

Physical Description: John is a tall and lanky Human. He is not very imposing yet he is handsome in the eyes of most.

Personality: John Frla is a very laid back Human. He is only serious in the most dire of situations. His life as a smuggler has made him internally wary, yet not to the point of paranoia.

Background: John Frla grew up on Tatooine. His uncle owned Mos Eisley Cantina, so John often associated himself with more shadowy types. At the age of 16, John bought a ride out of the desert, and to Coruscant. There he fell into unemployment, and made his day to day money playing sabbac at the Darkshrike Club. One night, after his seventeenth birthday, John won big. After the game, he was taken to Cratan the Hutt, who decided to employ the boy as a future smuggler. John spent some of his winnings on a new YT-2000, and took smuggling as a profession.