From the shadows Wyn Lin Pok observed Milek Sullum prance from his freighter with glee. Sullum had 13 Twi'lek women ready to razzle dazzle. Pok dropped from the rafters behind some containers. The crumpled black robes appeared lifeless until Pok silently raised up back into the darkness with his staff of office in hand.

Meanwhile, Sullum slicked back his hair as he met his business partner, Gamm Bo. “Gambobino! How are we? Hey, after this we should get some sloppy steaks together?” Gamm Bo replied coldly, “Sloppy steaks? I’m not your friend and I’m not a piece of shit. Now, where are the Twi'tits?” Before Sullum could reply, Gamm Bo’s neck snapped hard and his body dropped to the ground. A hooded old man stood in Gamm Bo’s place.

Suddenly, Sullum's ankles flipped into the air caught in a wire trap. He stared upside down into the hooded man’s eyes. “No sloppy steaks,” the old man confirmed. “Who are you?” Sullum pleaded. “I’m Wyn Lin Pok, your worst nightmare.”

Sullum saw the brass knuckles coming, but he never felt them sink deep into the back of his skull as his cranial sludge spilled unceremoniously onto the concrete floor.

Basho Cling would be happy to know that Wyn Lyn Pok had taken out some of his rival's minions and disrupted an important business transaction. And Basho Cling paid handsomely.

Most bounty hunting assassins strike their prey from a distance. Not Wyn Lin Pok. He’s more intimate. He wants you to know, it was him.

Wyn Lin Pok was not always so cold, calculating, and brutal. Originally, he was well-meaning, compassionate, and kind. But that was before the Jedi recruiter tore him from his family.

While a padawan under Jedi Master Ploo Mi, Wyn Lin longed for his family on planet Balosar after being abruptly torn away as a young child by a Jedi talent scout. Master Ploo Mi waved his hand across Wyn Lin's face and urged him to "forget about his family." He had a new family now in the Jedi order or so he was told. “How lucky I am,” Wyn Lin muttered sarcastically. “Throughout my travels, there is no such thing as luck,” mentored Master Ploo. “Ugghh, he’s so insufferable,” Wyn Lin thought to himself. “I heard that,” Master Ploo communicated through the Force.

Ever since the Jedi talent scout stole Wyn Lin Pok from Balosar, he suffered bouts of depression. Master Ploo Mi mentored his young Padawan to “bury his feelings deep down.” Stoic detachment was always the Jedi solution to mental illness. “Why not try open and honest commun-“ Wyn Lin improvised. “NOO! BURY. THAT. SHIT. DEEEEEEP!!” Master Ploo Mi insisted. Wyn Lin did as he was instructed and the darkness consumed him.

After Wyn's initiation into Jedi Knighthood, word arrived that his entire family on Balosar became terminally sick with mysterious cancerous growths throughout their bodies. The cause of their illness was no mystery. The suffocating amount of poisonous pollution on industrial Balosar was the obvious culprit. Wyn Lin complained to Master Ploo Mi that the Jedi order and the Republic needed to do more to protect the poor masses on planets like Balosar. Master Ploo Mi tastelessly quipped "We're keepers of the peace, not the galactic environmental policy police force." Wyn Lin grumbled "if 'keepers of the peace' means turning a blind eye to the corporations poisoning local populations all so the Republic can tout its vibrant galactic economy, you must be a proud 'keeper of the peace.'" Master Ploo Mi retaliated, "And not maybe a 'thank you' for the Jedi saving you from such a horrifying fate? We brought you into a much larger world of spiritual enlightenment and all you do is complain?"

After a local Jedi Master council meet-up, a radiant Master Ploo Mi came up to Wyn Lin and whispered in a hushed voiced, “it appears… ahem... that you are… the Chosen One!” Wyn Lin was confused. “Are you referring to the prophecy?” “Yeah!” Ploo Mi nodded. “The Chosen One?” “Yeah!” Ploo Mi beamed. “You mean the One who will bring balance to the Force?” “Yes!” Ploo Mi replied giddily. “And also..." he added, "the chosen one to go on patrol for smugglers along the Ziferian trade route! Ha ha ha!!”

The humiliation stung Wyn Lin to his core. “You lied to me Master.” Ploo Mi corrected Wyn Lin, “Ahh, what I told you was true… from a certain point of view…”

“From a certain point of view?” fumed Wyn Lin. Ploo Mi nodded with a shit-eating grin on his face. “I’m done,” Wyn Lin issued. All of his pent up frustration and anger that he buried so deep came screaming to the surface. “I’m done with you!” He pointed his finger. “I’m done with the Jedi Order!” He waved the finger to the side. “I’m done with all this bullshit!!” He pointed his finger to the ground. “DONE.”

Wyn Lin threw down his lightsaber at Master Ploo Mi’s feet. “I’m done with this toxic mind control cult! I’m cutting what little connection I had off from the Force.” Ploo Mi flipped through his Jedi Core Rulebook and corrected Wyn Lin, “uh… that’s not how the Force works…”. “I’m done,” Wyn Lin Pok threw off his Jedi robes and headed toward his destiny disillusioned with the Jedi and disgusted at the priorities of the Republic.

Years later, during another bout of depression, Wyn Lin found himself in the outer rims of the Republic working as a hired assassin for an infamous crime lord Basho Cling. Wyn Lin perfected the art of hunting down bounties. He didn’t care what circumstances led poor smugglers and thieves into Basho Cling’s snares. Wyn Lin only cared about getting paid. He is in it for the money.

No more dogma, no more ideals, no more bullshit. Wyn Lin Pok is here for the cold hard cash.