The email arrived at exactly 9:00 a.m.
It did not contain threats.
It did not contain orders.
It contained a link.
---
Subject: Annual Organizational Satisfaction Survey
From: Office of Operational Stability
Required: Yes (Anonymous)
Kyle stared at his screen for a long moment.
"…Is this real?"
Mara leaned over his shoulder. "Oh no. It's survey season."
"We have a survey season?"
"We have dental," she replied. "Of course we have surveys."
---
Across the organization, henchmen and henchwomen opened the same message.
Some groaned.
Some laughed.
One immediately tried to find the "skip all" button and failed.
The introduction page was written in Malachai's usual tone:
> Operational efficiency requires honest feedback.
This survey exists to identify failures before they become problems.
Your responses will not affect employment status.
Below that:
> Please answer truthfully.
That last line made everyone nervous.
---
Question 1:
Do you feel your safety is adequately prioritized during operations?
Kyle checked Yes without hesitation.
Mara paused.
Then added a comment:
> Maybe fewer situations involving experimental gravity.
---
Question 4:
Do you feel comfortable raising concerns with leadership?
Someone typed:
> Yes, but he stares at you until you explain your reasoning logically.
Another response read:
> Yes. Terrifyingly so.
---
Question 7:
How would you rate work-life balance?
Mixed responses.
> Better than previous villain organizations.
Still technically illegal.
Appreciate mental health leave policy.
---
One anonymous comment simply read:
> Please stop apologizing when plans fail. It's unsettling.
---
Malachai reviewed the compiled results that evening.
Not the names.
Never the names.
Just the patterns.
"Morale dip after recent incident," Kyle summarized carefully. "But stabilizing."
Malachai nodded.
"Suggestions?"
Kyle hesitated. "More… normal operations?"
Malachai made a note.
---
The survey included a final open-ended question.
What is one thing leadership could improve?
The answers varied.
> Clearer communication during emergencies.
Less personal involvement in dangerous situations.
More team gatherings that are not debriefings.
One response stood out.
> You don't have to carry everything alone. That stresses everyone else out.
Malachai read that one twice.
Then moved on.
---
Elara read the summarized version later, legs tucked beneath her on the couch.
"They really wrote this?" she asked, amused.
"Yes."
She grinned. "You're scary enough that people ask for fewer apologies."
"That is… not the intended outcome."
She laughed.
---
Meanwhile, rumors spread outside the organization.
The Dark Lord ran employee satisfaction surveys.
Late-night hosts joked about it.
> Evil empire with better HR than my office.
Online debates flared again.
Was it manipulation?
Was it genuine?
Was it both?
---
Director Chen received a copy through unofficial channels.
She stared at it for a long time.
"They have anonymous feedback systems," an aide said weakly.
Chen rubbed her temples. "Of course they do."
A pause.
"…We should update ours."
---
At the end of the week, a short internal message went out.
> Survey results reviewed.
Operational adjustments forthcoming.
Thank you for your honesty.
No flourish.
No praise.
Just acknowledgment.
---
Kyle leaned back in his chair. "You know," he said, "this might be the only villain organization where management actually reads feedback."
Mara shrugged. "That's why people stay."
---
Later that night, Malachai stood alone overlooking the city, survey data still open on his tablet.
Numbers. Trends. Concerns.
People.
The Void stirred faintly, restless as always.
He closed the file.
Because for all the wars, all the catastrophes, all the power he carried—
sometimes maintaining stability meant something far less dramatic.
Listening.
Adjusting.
And making sure the people who chose to stand beside you still wanted to be there.
Even if they occasionally asked for fewer gravity incidents.