All of Them People

Steve watched intently as his fingers ruffled through the folders of a filing cabinet, searching for the name Anthony L. Rogers. He was given a drawn out picture with the name and ID number written on it so he'd know when he found the document. He had no idea who this guy was, but his name alone had wasted almost a half an hour of his time so far today. Filing papers was easy, but every now and then they wanted reports that were decades old resurfaced from their graves, and finding those reports was much easier said than done. This guy's files weren't in A's, R's, and they shouldn't be in the L's but Steve checked anyways in case some dumb dunce put it there mistakenly.

He almost jumped when his phone went off. He whipped it out of his pocket and answered it, relieved for the break from searching for damned Anthony L. Rogers. And regretting that he didn't check caller ID first when his father's voice answered. "Steven, meet me outside, I would like to speak with you." His voice was very smooth with a faded British accent, but he never spoke to anyone without a sense of strictness.

"Umm, I'm working," Steve replied, but knew that that wouldn't get him out of whatever this was. His dad rarely spoke to him without a reason.

"Don't you think I would know that if I told you to meet me outside," His dad's temper shone through the call as his voice tensed up in annoyance.

"Alright, I'm coming," Steve sighed.

"Don't make me wait," he heard the other end hang up and did the same.

"When are you off?" A girl's voice sounded from behind him, and he straightened up to see a girl standing there twirling her light blonde hair.

"Dallas, how'd they even let you in here?" Steve said, his mind not all there as he wondered what his dad could possibly want of him.

"Nobody stopped me," she replied, taking a step closer, and stopping in front of him. "They'll never even know I'm here."

"Except, the cameras," he smiled, pointing up to one in the corner.

She glared back at the camera, then turning back, gently touched his arm. "We'll is there a blind spot we could fool around in?"

"Not today," he said regrettably, "I actually gotta get going, my dad's picking me up. Apparently."

"Pfft what, you have a dad? Sense when?" She scoffed.

"I know, but I have to go," he leaned in and kissed her quickly on the cheek. "I'll catch up with you later," he told her, although he didn't really intend to.

"You'd better," she answered, looking up at him with powerful blue eyes through dark lashes. Actually maybe he would.

Steve ditched the Anthony L. Rogers request on the desk by the entrance for the next guy to deal with and dashed out to meet his impatient father. He wasn't hard to find. Parked by the curb was a large black SUV, with one of the back doors open. Steve got in and closed the door behind him. His father sat across from him on the other side of the back seat. Frank the driver, barely waited for the door to close before driving out into a previously determined direction.

The back seats had way more room than what it looked like from the outside, and the smell of cigarette smoke lingered. Steve's dad didn't say anything but passed over a shallow glass of what looked like scotch. Steve accepted, but didn't drink, just looked down into the glass trying to relax and settle his mind. A drink would sure as hell help with that but for now he resisted and said nothing.

"I trust work is going well?" His dad finally asked after a few minutes of silent driving.

Steve resist rolling his eyes and looked out the tinted windows. "You're not good at small talk," he said.

Steve almost thought he seen his father smile, but that never happened. "Well, it's not completely small talk, Steven," he replied, then waited until Steve looked back towards him. "When I had you take that job at the office, I told you the experience would be worth something."

"Yes, well putting papers in folders isn't exactly something to boast about," Steve said, wondering where his father was going with this.

"No, you're right," his father exhaled, "it's quite pathetic, really."

Steve gritted his teeth but kept quiet.

"But have you ever ventured inside those folders, or wandered the floor of the building?" His dad pulled out a cigar from his blazer and toyed with it in his hands.

"That would be against the rules," Steve said, trying not to sound interested, and sipped back the scotch unintentionally, and held his breath as the alcohol moved down his throat.

"Yes, and I'm sure you care lots for rules," His dad replied with a glint in his eyes. "Hypothetically, say you have. There is no rhyme or reason to the things you've observed, as of now. But what you've seen can help you in the next step of your career if you are willing to take it. And I've told you before that you can advance. There is lots of money to be made, and it is a rewarding career."

"Right. So I can end up in a job like yours: Working early mornings, late nights, marrying some random woman and moving her family into your house so that they can free-load off of you, spending all the money you make..." Steve trailed off at a glare from his father, warning him that he was treading dangerously, and glanced back out the window, placing the scotch glass into a cup-holder.

"This job requires an amount of inhuman dedication, yes. And I'm not about to explain my life decisions to you. But this career is unlike any other." The man paused for a moment, whether it was in thought or to raise Steve's anticipation, it was hard to tell. "Do you believe in monsters?" He said, finally.

"Monster has many different definitions," Steve answered, wondering what kind of a childish question that was, and trying to immitate his father's vagueness.

"I'll assume you have an open mind then," his dad lit up the cigar and cracked the window slightly. Steve realized that they had driven out of town and he wasn't sure where they were now. The new surroundings were made up primarily of pine trees. The green spring leaves of deciduous trees reached out through pines and touched the edge of the roadway, although they were neatly pruned and held at bay from brushing against any of the traffic.

"Where are we going?" Steve asked, feeling more unsure about this... whatever it is.

"Steven, I have to know if you're ready for the next level in this career. I will tell you now that your pay will be increased. You will have to work very hard, be willing to go beyond the limits, and once you say yes, there is no going back. Rules of discrepancy will be of the utmost importance, and if you agree, you will soon see why. I hate to push this on you so suddenly, but I need your answer within the next few minutes."

"What kind of a job is this?" Steve asked, suspicions rising.

"No going back," A document and a pen was held out in front of him, and his father's face with all seriousness, watched him closely.

Steve pushed the document against the driver's back seat and scanned it over quickly. It restated what his father had said and focus mostly on secrecy. Steve rest the pen tip on the paper thinking this must be a pretty big deal to go through all this.

"Know, that in signing that document," his father said, "you are signing it with blood."

Caution and curiocity fought against each other. It was shadey and seemed to hide some kind of pending danger. But the mystery of it had Steve captivated. With one more look to his father, Steve signed on the dotted line and held it back to his dad who tucked it into a pocket on the back of the passenger seat, and sat for a moment in silence staring down at the paper. He took a long puff of the cigar and passed it over to Steve.

"I thought you hated smoking?" Steve grinned to cover up over whelming anxiousness.

"Marijuana," his father replied curtly.

"What's the difference?"

"Cigarette is a man's smoke."

"Right," Steve held the cigar to his lips and slowly sucked in the putrid smoke. It was strong and he felt the rush go to his head immedietly. After another puff he passed it back.

The SUV slowed down and turned a sharp corner that lead to a closed off gate that opened after some kind of verification. The trees closed in and the cement became a dirt road that blew dust up behind the tires. A medium sized arena came into view with a few other vehicles parked around it and men walking around outside, some heading in through the big opened side doors. Frank the driver parked the car and stepped outside without saying a word. Steve's dad downed a shot of whisky and then stepped outside, putting the cigar out in the ground. Steve didn't see any other choice but to follow and see what he'd gotten himself in to.

The side doors to the arena opened up into a large hall with abandoned horse stalls lined along the side, but the horse scent still lingured. Another door with two men standing on either side led to the side bars of the arena, which would have led into the benches, but his dad stopped there, outside the doors before the full arena came into view. The men confiscated their cell phoned and questioned them about any other technology they might have. When both claimed to have nothing else, the men returned to their post at the door.

Steve's dad spoke while inspecting the arena, "I knew that if I told you what this job was about, you wouldn't believe a word I said. I never would have. But I'm about to tell you now, and bloody hell, Steven, this is serious and what I am about to tell you is real. And afterwards, I am going to show you something... that is indescribable, and you will see what a true monster is." His father paused. "When I say monster I mean it in a literal sense. Vampires, werewolves, witches, they all exist, and more."

Steve looked at his dad not sure whether or not to laugh

"These monsters kill people, drink blood, destroy lives and homes. They are very dangerous and it will be part of your new job to help control them and eliminate them."

Steve's face twisted into confusion and tried not to smile and waited for his dad to continue speaking. Trusting that the next thing he would say would be more realistic. More... possible.

"Now, follow," His dad turned his back, giving Steve the opportunity to drop open his mouth and whisper 'what the fuck?' under his breath. But he followed, if not reluctantly, hoping that he didn't just sign his life away to some superstitious group dead bent on thinking they were meant to protect the world from fucking vampires. What bullshit! The doors opened and Steve knew then, how sound proof they were, because a blood-curdling scream that sounded nearly inhuman echoed through the arena. Steve held his hands to his ears until his dad passed him a pair of ear plugs that blocked most of the sound out.

The arena floor came into view, and Steve stopped dead in his tracks at what was set up in the middle of it. A post was sticking three metres out of the ground with some kind of person heavily chained to it. But this... person could not possibly be human. It convulsed and pulled at the chains, eyes glowing red and fangs extending out of it's mouth as it screamed this inhuman scream.

Steve could hear his dad talking to him again, but couldn't look away from the horror for more than a few moments. "... L. Rogers. Starving them makes them desperate. With no blood to mask them, you can see what they really are." Steve looked back to the monster the... vampire, with eyes wide in shock, and unable to make a sound or think straight. A metal screeching became heard and Steve looked up to see the ceiling opening up to reveal the blue sky and allow sunlight to wash in over the entire arena. The screaming became more frantic as the vampires hair and skin began to burn away, revealing red muscle underneath that in turn, simmered and began to fall onto the cemented floor of the arena, making plopping crack sound as it did. Steve backed away to the wall and pushed his back against it, wanting to look away but felt hypnotized by the horror before him.

The chains holding the vampire in place fell to the ground as the vampire became nothing more than ash, and then there was nothing but complete silence. Steve jumped as a hand was placed on his shoulder and he looked over to see his dad looking back with what looked like concern in his eyes. He realized he'd been holding his breath and took in air again. His dad said something, but through the ear plugs it was just a murmur. The smell of burnt flesh mixed with another sour smell of rot. Steve pushed out of the arena door, feeling like he was going to be sick.

Outside, there were men talking amongst themselves like nothing had happened and all was normal with the world. Steve bolted to the nearest garbage can and puked, he could feel his heart beat racing and adrenaline pumping at what he'd just seen. He took out the ear plugs and dropped them into the garbage can, leaning against it, trying to catch his breath.

"You'll get used to it." His father said from behind.

Steve could only stare up at him in disbelief. And the strangest thing came to mind. He recognize the vampire. Minus the red eyes and the fangs... That was fucking Anthony L. Rogers.