Deathclaws

Good luck to anyone standing between the Milliways front door and the Milliways back door today. A streak of brownish-green slams the front door open and vanishes through the back door as fast as normal human legs can carry it, surpassed only by the grey blur just at its heels. Neither one stops moving until they're both well outside, somewhere near the pells, among all the green; only then does it resolve into Ellen and Dogmeat, both panting frantically and trying not to fall over.

Thank God for stimpaks, they do wonders at closing up even the horrible wounds out there, but there's nothing short of God or Angus MacGyver that'll be saving that suit of combat armor she's got on now.