At the Gates of Reality

I've been at the Gates for gods know how long. You wouldn't believe what things try to get in constantly. Let's just say that amorphous protoplasmic blobs with hundreds of eyes and dozens of mouths lined with teeth that would make an anglerfish feel insecure are tame in comparison. Lack of sanity is a job pre-requisite. The only contact with beings that aren't trying to eat my face are the semi-regular supply runners. Fortunately, I've yet to encounter a monster that wouldn't succumb to my trusty Winchester. One bullet fits them all. Or a hundred bullets, just to be sure.