[color=00a651][b]Dr. Arthur West - Salem Clinic[/b][/color]

On the second floor of the clinic, Arthur was running a few tests on the sample of the mystery substance that Freida had brought to him. With the rudimentary equipment he had available, it was taking a bit longer than it should and more a game of trial and error than anything. 

"Hmm...interesting," He muttered as he examined a small droplet of the substance under a microscope. Suddenly he heard a voice from below call out,

[i]"You should come down here. Uh, bring some extra gloves."
[/i]

"Frieda?" He called back, concerned, "Why what is it?"

Not waiting for a response, he quickly got up, grabbed a spare pair of sterile gloves and came down the staircase to find a mess. A trail of blood led from the clinic door to a bed where a ghoul lay dismembered and quite clearly in shock due to bloodloss, barely clinging onto life. 

"Good lord, what happened?" Arthur asked. And received only some vague information in response that there had apparently been another attack on the outskirts of town: a caravan this time. Arthur shook his head in dismay, as much a sign of pity as denial. He knew the prognosis immediately. 

"There's nothing to be done I'm afraid...if there were even the slightest chance of saving him, he'd required advanced medical technology and supplies that I couldn't even remotely hope to have here. Best I can do is give him a shot of Med-X to dull the pain a bit and ease his passing."

Arthur recalled that ghouls had a far different physiology than humans and that chem doses required to affect them could often be much higher than that normally required. A single shot might not be enough...but he couldn't spare more than that. He needed what supplies he had for the living, not the dead. It was a harsh choice, but these were the sorts of horrible dilemmas the surface-world forced on you.  

Just as Arthur had begun to turn around to fetch a syringe, he heard a cacophony of crazed shouts coming from outside. Shouts of "DEATHCLAW!" and "RUN! RUN!". 

"Deathclaw?" Arthur's eyes grew wide, "But how.."

He peeked out one of the old church windows and saw the monstrous creature chasing Brandy as they both ran past,

"HOLY!" Arthur cried out as stumbled backwards from the window and fell to the floorboards. He glasses went skating across the wooden boards, but thankfully didn't break. He was damn near blind now however, and began desperately searching around the floor for his spectacles. He'd never seen a deathclaw before up close before, and only heard stories from the various settlers and caravaners who told tales of the creatures. His hands were shaking with fear as they patted around the ground: it was like a monster out of some horrid nightmare had charged into Salem,

"How heck can we stop that thing!?" He yelled desperately.