CID Drom's Box

The Box stank.

It smelled of sweat and blood, dank water and sewers. It had that coppery tang in the air, the heat rolling off the bodies packed into the rooms of the clubhouse barely combated with a derelict air conditioning unit. Grime on the walls and bricks making up the building had built up for years until the once-white walls were stained brown, handprints etched in smoke and dirt, markers of people long gone.

The Box stood in the lower levels of Nar Shaddaa, the smuggler's moon. The Box paid its dues to the Hutt who ruled the streets around it and its thugs, the great and mighty J'tre and Press-Black gang. The Box's owner, Drom K'thn, managed to keep just enough autonomy that something was up. His establishment had no gangs working its roster, no protection money cut from the till - but it felt like it should.

Once you got inside the Box you realized there was something off about the club. It had a bar and served you every vice you could imagine - from spice to hookers, deathsticks to pretty boys - and sometimes when you looked things felt... wrong. There was no other way to put it, like the Box existed with a thin veneer over top of it, something darker than sex or drugs lurking.

A rival to J'tre wanted to know about the Box - about Drom, what it did - and was willing to pay for any information gleaned.

It just begged the question of how hard it would be to find out what secrets the Box held.

Regulars know-
Mac, the head bouncer of the club. Standing six-foot-and-seven, Mac was a tall human built like a brick wall, all muscle and scars. Mac ran a tight shift, keeping the peace in the Box with an iron fist that echoed the strict control Drom himself seemed to hold over the place. Slicked-back hair cropped short, the man was often seen in the presence of the regular staff, making sure no one at the club bothered the rest of Drom's staff.

Drom, the enigmatic head of the The Box. Somewhere between burly as one of his hired bouncers and businessman-sleek, Drom keeps a watchful eye on his beloved club but keeps everyone but bodyguards at an arm's length. Drom is at the club nearly every night, managing something, talking with clients and important guests. For such a down and outs location the Box manages to attract fairly high-brow clientèle on odd nights.

The Box holds regular "fight nights", rowdy affairs in a temporarily erected cage that are as brutal as any combat. Fan-favorite for winning this year's Box "Champion" title is a plucky Rodian, Jntrix Kem, known for being wily and wiry more than brute muscle. Jntrix frequents the Box when not fighting, making nice with his loyal fans who hope he will secure his title in the upcoming ring nights.

Head of the Box's attached "adult" services is Lady Mar'tenn, a Pureblood rumored to be either a sadist, Sith, or both. Lady Mar'tenn and Drom were once rumored to be an item but if they are or aren't is anyone's guess as they two keep their relationship in public to be strictly professional. Lady Mar'tenn's range of associates span every legal (and illegal) vice to be found on Nar Shaddaa. In the power structure of the Box Lady Mar'tenn stands almost as equal to Drom in terms of implicit authority, the bouncers and staff obeying her commands as readily as they obeyed Mac's or Drom's.

Corem, the head bartender and fixture at the Box for ten years is known to be a man with a vice or two, always having one of Lady Mar'tenn's boys nearby. Corem and his fleet of bartenders man the many drinking holes and keep the alcohol flowing. Corem himself has been noted to note drink a drop - but he offers a shoulder to his favorite customers (those who buy him a little more time with Lady Mar'tenn's lovely boys) and a willing ear like a good bartender does.