His Own Brand

Sudden movement ahead. His finger finds the trigger, tenses hungrily, waiting for the go ahead to fire. He ignores it.
It’s so slight that the frightened kid he used to be would have written it off as fatigue, poor light, nerves- fear.
The man he’s become knows better.
An endless moment. A moment he used to dread. A moment he’s learned to savour...
Then the Hole in the night opens and things pour out, manbeasts, abominations, monsters. He hardly bothers to identify them anymore. That can wait until later.
He slams the alarm and unleashes his own brand of hell.