Nestled into the predominantly African-American neighborhood of Bedford-Stuyvesant in the bourough of Brooklyn is a converted warehouse. This night, like every night for the past few months, the warehouse is a point of interest, as it now bares a sign over the door that reads 'Nevermore' in stylized red neon...a sign which used to hang on a similar warehouse in Downtown Manhattan. A fairly large, heavily-scarred bouncer at the door lets few people in, and there seems to be no rhyme or reason as to who he is letting in.
Upon making it past the bouncer (which is a task in and of itself), the clubber enters into a hallway, all painted black with dim lighting. Red silk is draped along the walls, giving a poseur-Goth feel. Down the hallway and off to the left is a set of double-fire doors. When they are opened, sound blasts the clubber's face...it appears that in the Nevermore, sound-proofing is your friend.
Inside the dance club, one can find all different types of people co-mingling in here...mostly the fetish or the rough-and-tumble crowd, but there are a couple of people who look way too 'normal' to be there. The bar is mostly the dance floor, which dominates the center of the room. The dance floor is lined by black tables, each with a default four seats around it. A full bar lines the back left corner, and the bartender is known to serve the drinks fairly strong.
On the right side of the main room, a metal staircase rises from the back corner to what was probably originally the warehouse office. At the bottom of the stairs in an intercom button with two buttons: one labeled 'DJ,' the other labeled 'Office.' Very few people ever get past the door at the top.
