Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere

The garage, once filled with frantic screams and violent scuffles, was now presided over by a suffocating silence. The air was heavy with the scent of blood and raw flesh with the only light coming from the glowing sockets of Don's mask, casting a cold, glow over the mess below.

Don stood motionless, his gaze fixed on the blood-soaked floor. The twisted remains of Viper and Rusty were beneath him, their faces frozen in expressions of sheer terror, the last moments of their lives written into their mangled features.

While their bodies were ruined beyond recognition, their faces remained disturbingly intact, like grotesque monuments to their fear.

It was a gruesome sight, and even for Don, this was new territory. In the simulations he'd used to train his mind, he'd always been a spectator or victim, never the actor. But this... this was different.

The blood, the screams, the stench—it was real. The weight of his actions bore down on him, but he pushed it aside, steeling himself. A clean, quick death would have sufficed, but this? This was intentional. Necessary. To send a message.

The earbud in his ear crackled to life again, breaking the oppressive silence. Gary's voice came through, smooth and calm. "Are you finished there, sir? I could hear the poor souls screaming even while on idle."

"Yes," Don replied curtly, his tone also calm despite the scene around him. "I'm done, and I've got a location. Prominila Road, behind an unfinished apartment complex." Discover more stories at empire

Gary's voice brightened, his approval evident. "Brilliant, sir. Do you wish to head there now?"

Don remained silent for a moment, his glowing gaze drifting back to the limp bodies of Tank and Grady. Finally, he replied, "No. The product they're moving is fake. Attacking other stash houses would be pointless. Leaving just this one in its current state will send the message I want and unnerve their leaders."

"Ah, a sound approach," Gary said, his tone thoughtful and approving. "The use of fake product and a setup like this suggests they aren't as desperate as we initially assumed. However, once they realize the threat is superhuman, they may escalate methods, potentially hiring superhuman muscle."

Don acknowledged the point with a slight nod, his shadowy form shifting as he stepped over the scattered remains on the floor. His boots made soft squelches against the blood-soaked concrete. "It's a risk I'm willing to take," he said. "But I need to see how they react to this first. Can you arrange for surveillance near the location I mentioned?"

"Certainly," Gary replied. "Do you anticipate an immediate reaction?"

Don's gaze lingered on Tank's unconscious form, noting the slow rise and fall of his chest. "Not immediately. But one of them is still breathing. He'll do perfectly to spread the story."

Gary's interest was piqued. "An interesting approach, sir. But wouldn't that put you at a disadvantage? They'll know you thrive in darkness."

Don's head tilted slightly. "It will make things trickier," he admitted. "But it will also lead them to rely on that assumption. They'll focus on finding someone with similar powers, narrowing their search."

He paused, a faint smile hidden behind the mask. "Fortunately for me, there's someone in this city with such a power who's already made a name for themselves."

Gary chuckled softly, the realization clicking into place. "Ah, I see. Misdirection. Brilliant, sir."

Don finally stepped away from the carnage, ready to leave. "Prepare the vehicle," he said. "I'll be ready to leave shortly."

"Very good, sir," Gary replied. "I'll send it immediately."

Don started to move toward the shadowed corner of the garage, the soles of his boots leaving faint imprints in the smeared blood. But as he neared the edge of the room, he stopped abruptly. A new thought crossed his mind.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

"Actually, Gary," Don said, his voice low and deliberate. "There's one more thing."

The faint sound of Gary shifting on the other end of the line was audible before he responded. "What would that be, sir?"

----

Roughly an hour later, Don reappeared in his bedroom, the familiar surroundings a stark contrast to the blood-soaked scene he'd just left behind.

The predator suit that had enveloped him began to fade, the inky black tendrils retracting into the strange tattoo on his wrist like smoke being pulled into a vacuum. The faint **hiss** of energy dispersing accompanied the transformation, leaving him in his usual attire beneath.

He stretched briefly, rolling his neck to loosen the tension that had settled in his shoulders during the mission.

Before he could even begin to contemplate the situation with the Hell Riders, a loud **buzz** broke the silence. His phone, settled on the dresser beside his bed, vibrated insistently, the sound loud in the still room.

Turning toward the source, Don raised an eyebrow as he walked over, his bare feet **thumping** softly against the floor.

His phone screen lit up repeatedly, a steady stream of notifications stacking on top of one another.

Wisps of black smoke still lingered faintly around him, retreating in reverse into the tattoo as if reluctant to vanish entirely.

Picking up the phone, Don squinted at the display. The sheer volume of missed calls and messages from Summer made him blink in surprise. 'Eighty missed calls and over a hundred messages?' he thought, his lips quirking upward in a bemused smile.

Unlocking the device with a quick swipe, he began scrolling through the flood of messages. The trail started innocuously enough:

———

**Hey**

**Are you awake?**

**Are you mad at me?**

———

Don's brow furrowed slightly as he read on, but the next message made him chuckle softly:

———

**I'm sorry, okay?**

———

His amusement grew with each successive message.

———

**I didn't mean it like that; I just thought you were thinking with your dick or something.

Don't be mad, okay?**

Ten minutes later:

**Please say something already**

Another ten minutes:

**I'll make it up to you later, okay? Anything you want**

———

The messages became more frantic, a jumble of Summer negotiating with herself as she tried to gauge his silence.

Don shook his head, the corner of his mouth tugging upward in a smirk. He couldn't help but find the barrage both endearing and hilarious. "She's really working herself up over this," he muttered.

Reaching the latest message, a simple **one sec**, Don raised an eyebrow. "How long does she plan on spamming me?" he wondered aloud, shaking his head.

Though tempted to let her stew a bit longer, Don decided against it. He began typing a reply, his fingers hovering over the screen as he thought, 'I better just say I forgive her and tease her a little so she lets it go.'

But before he could finish typing, another notification popped up. This time, it was an attachment file, followed by a cryptic message: **Passcode is 2kkhvjkyi2-ooskuu2739-sokeYYtwks**.

Don blinked, lowering his phone slightly to stare at it in disbelief. "The fuck?" he muttered. His curiosity piqued, he copied the passcode and opened the file.

What appeared next made him pause, a quiet laugh escaping his lips as he took in the image. It was a photo of Summer's topless chest, her well shaped and full tanned breasts filling his screen, though she had strategically included a handwritten note on the corner that read: **I'm sorry**.

Don rubbed a hand over his face, trying and failing to suppress his grin. 'Now this,' he thought with an inward chuckle, 'is a type of apology I can get behind.'