New Vance City

Zara Moreau’s Clinic is a myth wrapped in sinew and circuitry, whispered of in scavver lore as a place where bodies break and return… different. Hidden deep within the husk of a half-collapsed apartment complex in the Shambler’s Graveyard, Zara offers something no other surgeon will: invasive biomechanical surgeries that adapt the human body to the infected world. She doesn’t serve the Silent Walkers, but she’s never been touched by them either—and that’s reason enough to fear or worship her. Some say she once worked for the Citadel Council as a biomedical prodigy before disappearing into the rot. Others believe she’s already half-infected and merely completing her own transformation. Those who emerge from her table don’t talk about the pain—they talk about how the shamblers stopped chasing them. Some even start walking a little quieter. A little slower. Like they’re listening for something.

The clinic is a cathedral of decay fused with precision. Its exterior is disguised by collapsed concrete slabs and faded biohazard signage, but once inside, the space unfolds into a grotesquely functional theater. Walls are paneled with surgical screens scavenged from Citadel medbays, draped in spore-riddled sheets. The floor is bone-tiled—some real, some synthetic—set with LED nodes that pulse like a heartbeat. An operating table made from a reinforced door sits in the center, surrounded by IV rigs filled with unmarked fluids and half-melted medbots suspended from the ceiling on chains. Bone saws and auto-injectors hang on magnetic strips next to jars of modified organs—some pulsing faintly. A faint bioluminescent mist seeps from grates in the floor, illuminating scribbled diagrams, DNA helixes, and strange glyphs etched into every inch of available space. The air smells of copper, antiseptic, and something sweetly fungal.