The Benefits Package of Doom
The thing about working for a villain was that people assumed you were disposable.
Kyle had once made that mistake too—right up until Lord Malachai the Dread helped him move a couch up three flights of stairs while wearing ritual armor and muttering about lumbar support.
"Lift with your legs," Malachai had said, voice echoing ominously from inside his skull-shaped helm. "I don't want you out for six weeks on worker's comp."
Kyle adjusted his grip. "Sir… you really don't have to—"
"Nonsense," Malachai replied. "Your lease is ending today. I'd hardly call myself a monster if I let my junior henchman sleep on the floor."
That had been two years ago. Kyle still told the story to every new hire.
---
The Fortress of Calamity had excellent break rooms.
That was the first thing people noticed once they got past the lava moat and the screaming gargoyle statues. The coffee was ethically sourced. The chairs were ergonomic. There was a snack wall that updated weekly based on anonymous surveys.
Kyle leaned back in his chair, sipping cold brew, while Brenda from Accounting stapled expense reports with terrifying efficiency.
"So," she said casually, "did you hear the Hero's Guild put Malachai on their Top Ten Most Irredeemably Evil list again?"
Kyle snorted. "Third year in a row?"
"Yep. They cited 'apocalyptic intent' and 'aura of despair.'"
Kyle shrugged. "He still approved my dental claim in under twenty-four hours."
Brenda nodded solemnly. "Man values teeth."
They all did. The dental plan was legendary. Full coverage. No waiting period. Malachai personally negotiated with necromancers and orthodontists to make it happen.
---
Lord Malachai the Dread—Dark Sovereign of the Ashlands, Breaker of Kingdoms, and Certified OSHA Compliance Officer—stood in the main war room reviewing invasion schematics.
He paused when Kyle entered.
"Kyle," Malachai said warmly. "How's the jaw?"
"Much better, sir. Root canal went great."
"Excellent." Malachai tapped a rune, zooming out the map. "I told them in negotiations that tooth pain destroys morale. Heroes underestimate that."
Kyle hesitated. "Sir… is it true you're delaying the conquest again?"
Malachai sighed, removing his helm and rubbing his temples. Without the skull motif, he just looked tired.
"Three henchmen have kids' recitals this week. I won't be that employer."
Kyle felt a familiar swell of pride. People mocked them. Called them evil. But Malachai remembered birthdays. He sent handwritten apology notes when operations ran late. He once stopped a doomsday ritual because the catering arrived cold.
That mattered.
---
Later that evening, alarms blared as the Hero Vanguard breached the outer gate.
Henchmen scrambled into formation—not out of fear, but loyalty.
Malachai's voice boomed over the intercom.
"Team, remain calm. Hazard pay is in effect. Anyone feeling overwhelmed, fall back to Safe Room C. The villainy will wait."
Kyle tightened his grip on his stun staff, grinning.
Villain or not, this was the best job he'd ever had.
And honestly?
If taking over the world meant good healthcare, fair wages, and a boss who helped you move furniture—
Well.
Kyle charged forward.
For evil.
For dental.
For Lord Malachai the Dread.
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