Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere

After leaving Irene's office, Don didn't stray far. He lingered atop the theater's rooftop, stepping lightly over charred sections of concrete.

Dark streaks fanned outward, tracing the sloppy arcs of gasoline splashed hastily onto the surface. A faint chemical scent lingered, mixing with smoke, and it caused Don's brow to furrow beneath his mask.

He gently tapped the side of the mask, and a soft click broke the quiet, followed by faint static. A second later, another click echoed, and Gary's voice filtered through the line.

"Hello, sir. Have you managed to see the asset?"

Don's eyes traced one of the burn marks closely, noting the irregular pattern. "I have," he answered, tone flat, distracted. "But something is off. She said after the Gonzalez boys attacked, another group showed up, and one even claimed the Gonzalez brothers were targets themselves."

A thoughtful hum resonated from Gary's end. "That does seem off," he responded carefully. "One moment, sir."

Don fell silent, ears picking up the soft sounds from the other side—the rustle of a duffel bag being opened, then a low, steady beeping noise resembling a metal detector. It continued—beep… beep… beep…—steady until the device emitted a sharper tone.

Following this, Don heard the familiar slide of a blade being drawn—shhkt—and then Roberto's strained voice broke in, a mix of confusion and pain: "Wait, no, please—"

A muffled groan followed, the unmistakable sound of skin splitting beneath metal—shlkt—and Roberto's voice rose sharply in a strangled gasp. The beeping ceased abruptly, replaced by Gary's voice, heavier.

"I believe the asset was truthful, sir," Gary said calmly, as though he hadn't just cut into a man's flesh. "I've just removed a subdermal tracker from one of them. I assume the other has one as well."

The beeping began again, faint at first but quickly growing louder and more urgent—beep beep beep BEEP.

Gary continued evenly, unfazed. "It seems Barclay is tying multiple loose ends. This suggests the others we were planning to use might already be dead."

Don's gaze remained locked on the scorched rooftop. Something felt wrong, the puzzle incomplete. He finally asked, "Find out their exact instructions."

Gary immediately repeated the question to Roberto. The captive's reply came quickly, still slurred and strained from his loosened teeth. "We… we got a message to pour gasoline on the roof and take out anyone who tried to stop us. That's all… I swear."

Don's eyes narrowed. "They didn't think it was odd they were lighting a concrete rooftop?"

Gary relayed the question. Roberto's frantic voice returned swiftly, anxious and pleading. "We don't ask questions. We just thought… thought he wanted to send a message, y'know? We had no idea about trackers. They always patch us up after rough jobs."

Don exhaled through his nose, irritation flickering through his mind. "Change of plans, Gary. Eliminate them both immediately, before they realize we're onto them."

Gary began to respond promptly, "Will do, s—"

But a sudden interruption came: a minion's voice rose sharply in the background, urgent yet monotone—"Suiii!"

Gary's voice tightened instantly. "Too late, sir. We have company."

Don's shoulders tensed slightly, urgency creeping into his voice. "Can you get out?"

Gary hesitated just a fraction. "Yes, but if they find our vehicle and these bodies as they are, we risk leaving evidence of our presence." His voice hardened slightly. "No. I'll attempt to deal with the threat first. If it proves too much, retreat remains an option."

Don said nothing immediately, eyes drifting across the rooftop, contemplating quickly. He nodded once to himself, the silence stretching for just a heartbeat longer than necessary.

"Do what you have to," he finally said, voice low and decisive. Then he ended the connection with a soft click, eyes fixed on the blackened rooftop.

Back at the abandoned hospital, Gary ended his call with Don, crouching beside Roberto's trembling figure. Blood had seeped into Gary's gloves and sleeves, now slick and darkened, matching Roberto's torn torso.

Nearby, one minion stood silently beside Sergio, watching Gary with calm, empty eyes. The other was crouched by a window, eyes peering carefully into the gloom outside.

Gary retrieved the blood-smeared knife from beside Roberto, standing smoothly as he moved towards the window. He pressed his back lightly against the damp wall, the cracked plaster grinding quietly against his back.

Without looking, he stabbed the knife into the wall—thnk—and began neatly rolling his sleeves up once more, his voice quiet as he spoke to the minion beside him.

"How many vehicles?"

The minion turned, glancing up with a subtle tilt of his head before raising two fingers. Gary continued evenly, "Vehicle make and model?"

Without hesitation, the minion's hands moved swiftly through a quick, strange series of gestures—his fingers flicked and twisted, signals forming the specific details of the vehicles. He gestured: Land Rover Discovery 5, models V8 and V6.

Gary gave a short nod, taking the knife back out from the wall with a quiet schlk. "Then let's assume we have more than eight guests, but no more than fifteen."

The minion whispered softly, almost inaudibly, "suiii."

Gary turned to Roberto and Sergio, eyes coldly assessing their wounded bodies before addressing the minions again. "Let us quickly set up a warm welcome. Worst-case scenario, they have superhumans among them."

Both minions immediately snapped into quiet salutes, the whispered sound repeating in tandem: "suiii."

—

Outside in the hospital's car park, two dark SUVs silently rolled to a stop. Their headlights remained off, engines cutting softly into silence as the vehicles settled.

Doors swung open quietly—one after another, masked men emerged, each dressed in black tactical gear. Their outfits were military-grade body armor fitted tightly over muscular frames, night-vision goggles clipped to their helmets.

Each man carried a silenced weapon, the metal barrels dull and matte in the low light.

The first group moved with swift motion, surrounding the black sedan and the chrome-wheeled pickup truck parked nearby. Flashlights flicked briefly into windows, glancing quickly through the interiors.

One operative raised a hand in a quick signal: all clear.

Twelve men total fanned out, maintaining strict discipline as two leaders met at the hood of one SUV. One leader, slightly broader in shoulders and stance, tapped lightly on his visible earpiece, speaking in a disciplined, monotone voice.

"Command, this is Shadow-4-1. We are at the site but have found one additional unidentified vehicle. Black sedan, EV… Chinese make. Potential unknown persons may be present, further verification required."

A short silence passed before a sharp click sounded in his ear. A crisp voice followed, devoid of hesitation. "Copy Shadow-4-1. Your instructions remain unchanged—eliminate all persons on-site quietly."

"Copy command." Another sharp click marked the end of transmission.

Shadow-4-1 turned slightly, eyes fixed beneath his mask as he addressed the other team leader beside him. "Your team takes the upper floor. We'll sweep the first, then interchange from there. Maintain radio silence unless engaged first. Understood?"

The second man nodded once, voice calm yet focused. "Let's get this done."