As I descended the steps into the dimly-lit underground, the stench of urine and garbage hit my nostrils like a slap in the face. I shuddered, wishing I had never agreed to meet my contact here. But I had no choice. My leg was throbbing with pain, and I needed to find a vet who could help me. In this world, where medical treatment was scarce and expensive, vets were the best option for those who couldn't afford a doctor. They might not have the fancy equipment, but they knew how to fix you up with whatever they had on hand. As I walked through the maze of tunnels, I saw makeshift clinics set up in alcoves and corners, with dogs and cats lounging in the corners. Finally, I found what I was looking for - a grizzled old vet who looked like he had seen it all. He examined my leg and gave me a shot of something that made the pain disappear. I knew I was lucky to have found him. In this world, a good vet was worth their weight in mining equipment.