Red Eyes Are the Worst

Paddy awoke to the sound of snoring.

For a moment, he thought he was back in his own house, the neighbours drunk again, but no. His back ached like it had been used as a doorstop, his mouth tasted like dust, and something small and possibly alive was crawling across his cheek.

He opened his eyes to see idiots sprawled across the warped wooden floor of their new 'headquarters,' each using a rolled-up coat or sack of potatoes as a pillow.

Balloon was slumped by the window, arms folded, her breath frosting faintly in the early light. Jak and the other thieves snored face-down, drooling onto broken floorboards. The slave had curled into a corner like a loyal dog.

No beds. No blankets. No furniture. Just dust, splinters, and regret.

Paddy: "…We’re really living the dream, huh?"

The building creaked ominously in response.

By the time everyone was awake, the place was a disaster.

Jak cheerfully kicked a rat out the door. Thief #2 fell through the same loose floorboard twice.
The slave silently swept up dust, while Balloon leaned in the doorway with a face that said I regret everything.

Then came the uniform revelation. 

One of the thieves staggered out of the attic carrying a bundle of black-and-white striped clothes.

Thief: "Boss! Look! Uniforms!"

Balloon: "…Those are prison uniforms."

Thief: "No, no, vintage adventurer outfits!"

Within minutes, all the thieves, and the slave, were proudly strutting around in their new stripes.

Paddy: "…I’m surrounded by convicts."

Jak: "You can’t cage the human spirit, Boss!"

...

Balloon: "…I'm not wearing that."

The room went silent. Jak gasped, clutching his chest.

Jak: "Boss’s right-hand woman! We thought you’d be proud!"

Paddy: "Yeah, me and Balloon, we’re giving you lot the privilege. Think of it as a sign of respect."

Balloon: "Yeah. We’re letting you wear it. It’s… an honour."

The thieves’ eyes lit up with childlike awe. They all nodded, mistaking the insult for honour.

Thief: "Whoa… elite uniform privilege."

Jak: "You hear that, lads? We’re the faces of the company!"

Balloon: "Yup. We’d only slow the vibe down."

She twirled her finger like a wand, and a tiny flurry of snowflakes danced over their heads. Jak immediately tried to catch one on his tongue.

Paddy squinted at them all, then muttered to himself.

Paddy: "…I can’t spend my free time like this… what can I add to this world to make money fast…"

Just as he started plotting ways to scam the medieval economy, a sharp knock echoed at the door. Everyone froze. Jak leapt up like an overexcited dog.

Jak: "First customer?"

Paddy narrowed his eyes.

Paddy: "...I hope."

He opened the door to find a messenger in the king’s name. The man’s expression was stiff, almost too polite.

Messenger: "Patrick Doherty. The crown requires your… company’s assistance."

Balloon frowned.

Balloon: "…Assistance?"

The messenger’s gaze flicked over the crew in their prison stripes, then to Paddy, then to Balloon. He hesitated.

Messenger: "…Yes. Assistance. A… discreet matter."

Paddy leaned against the doorframe, scratching his chin.

Paddy: "Discreet, huh? We’re basically invisible already."

Jak leaned over Paddy’s shoulder.

Jak: "We are professionals, sir. Behold, our uniforms!"

The messenger blinked.

Messenger: "…Right."

He lowered his voice, clearly not wanting to be overheard in the street.

Messenger: "There are whispers of… malice activity… near the eastern warehouse district."

Everyone except Paddy froze. Jak’s grin faltered. The thieves all exchanged nervous glances. Even the slave stiffened.

Balloon’s fingers twitched, a small puff of frost slipping between them.

Paddy, oblivious, scratched his ear.

Paddy: "…Okay, and? Sounds like rats. Big deal."

Balloon: "Malice isn’t… rats."

Jak swallowed hard.

Jak: "Boss… malice is… bad. Like… real bad."

The messenger gave a quick nod.

Messenger: "I assume your… team… knows the risks. The city guard won’t approach the site. Not after the last… incident."

He didn’t elaborate, and Paddy didn’t ask. Instead, he shrugged.

Paddy: "Alright. We’ll look into your… 'malice.' For a fee."

Messenger: "You will be… compensated."

Balloon stayed quiet, arms folded, a faint chill in the air. It wasn’t until the messenger left that Paddy noticed her distant stare.

Paddy: "…What? You look like you just swallowed a ghost."

She blinked, then forced a smirk.

Balloon: "I’m fine. Just… thinking about how you’ll scream when you see it."

...

Jak bounced on his heels, trying to shake off the unease.

Jak: "Alright, team! First job! Let’s show this city that N Lamp & Co. can handle anything!"

Paddy: "…Do we have a plan?"

Jak opened his mouth, but Balloon interrupted with a clap of her hands.

Balloon: "Step one: we go look. Step two: you, the hero, improvise and somehow don’t die. It’s worked so far."

The thieves all nodded. The slave raised a timid hand.

Slave: "…Do I still have to be… The Slave?"

...

Paddy rubbed his chin like he was weighing the fate of empires.

Paddy: "…Huh. Well… do you want a promotion?"

Slave: "…Yes?"

Paddy held out the lamp.

Paddy: "Then take the lamp. By force."

The slave blinked.

Slave: "…By… force?"

Paddy: "Yeah. Steal it. You steal the lamp, you’re not a slave anymore. You’re a thief. Company policy."

The slave stared at the lamp. The thieves whispered excitedly, like children waiting for a wrestling match.

After a long, shaky breath, he lunged, trying to grab the lamp. Paddy effortlessly jerked it away and bopped him lightly on the forehead with the handle.

Paddy: "Close enough. Congratulations, you’re a thief now. Welcome to the family."

Jak whooped and lifted him into the air like he’d won a championship.

Jak: "He’s one of us now! Promotion day!"

Balloon: "You really just demoted human suffering into an entry-level position."

The thieves clapped the ex-slave on the back, cheering. He even smiled for the first time.

The crew set out just before dusk, trudging through the quieter streets of the city. The eastern warehouse district loomed ahead, a cluster of abandoned buildings and fog rolling in from the river.

Even from a distance, a heavy stillness seemed to seep from the alleys.

Balloon’s breath puffed into white mist.

Balloon: "…Feel that?"

The thieves slowed. Jak rubbed his arms.

Jak: "Yeah. Like… my mana feels itchy."

One of the thieves hugged himself, teeth chattering.

Thief: "Feels like someone’s sitting on my chest…"

The ex-slave... no, the newest thief, trembled as he followed.

Thief: "…It’s… cold. I don’t like it."

Paddy blinked, glancing back.

Paddy: "Feels fine to me. Bit drafty, maybe."

Balloon frowned.

Balloon: "Malice… it seeps into your mana the closer you get. Makes your own magic turn against you. Normal people… don’t like being near it."

Jak flinched as a distant clang echoed in the warehouse maze.

They turned a corner into a half-collapsed storage yard. Broken crates and rusted chains lay scattered. A strange, blackened residue clung to the walls, like soot mixed with tar.

Everyone there but Paddy instinctively held their breath. He squinted at the mess of the yard. The air felt heavier now, almost like the city itself was holding its breath.

In the centre of the cracked cobblestones, was a grotesque pile of corpses. Humans, maybe… or what used to be. Their skin had gone grey-black in places, veins pulsing faintly with a dull red glow. A dark, tar-like ooze leaked between them, sizzling as it touched the ground.

Balloon: "…That’s… that’s the source anyways."

The thieves shuffled back, pale. Jak clutched his stomach like he might be sick.

Jak: "Boss… that’s a heap of dead people, boss!"

Balloon: "Paddy, don’t get any closer."

Paddy: "What? I just wanna take a look."

He strolled toward the pile without a hint of caution. The air seemed to ripple with heat and cold in waves, a distorted shimmer of malice. His boots squelched in something he didn’t want to identify.

He waited. Nothing happened. No whispering voices. No curse marks. He looked over his shoulder at the trembling crew.

Paddy: "…I don’t think it’s doing anything to me."

Balloon blinked, stunned.

Paddy: "Even the disease doesn’t want me…"

He turned back-

-And froze.

Right beside him, half-hidden in shadow, stood a hulking suit of blackened armour, etched with curling runes. Its visor faced him like a silent sentinel.

Paddy: "…You weren’t there a second ago."

The thieves were already screaming.

Balloon: "PADDY!!!"

All Thieves, in perfect chorus: "BOSS!!!"

The hulking armour raised both hands in front of him, palms out, stepping back in a defensive posture.

???: "Wait! I'm friendly! Calm down!"

Paddy tilted his head.

Paddy: "…Friendly, huh? You immune to this malice stuff too?"

The armour hesitated, then slowly lifted its visor. A grinning skull stared back at him, faint red glow flickering in its hollow eyes.

???: "Well, yeah, sure! I’m a skeleton!"

Paddy blinked.

The thieves screamed louder, clinging to each other in a trembling, chaotic pile.