Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere

As the man sprinted out of the warehouse, his footsteps fading into the distance, Don's figure emerged where the bloodied message had been left on the floor.

He glanced down at the letters smeared in crimson. It was a perfect warning, a seed of fear he was sure would be firmly planted in the gang, but he didn't want it spreading too quickly, at least not to the police or the public. Not yet.

With a wave of his hand, shadow tendrils slithered across the floor, smearing the blood and erasing the message completely. The warning would stay among the Hell Riders for now, building panic and disorder in their ranks. Satisfied, Don vanished from the warehouse, reappearing in a quiet, empty street.

The street was dimly lit, with only a few vehicles parked along the curb. The occasional flicker of a streetlight cast long shadows across the cracked pavement. Don surveyed the area briefly before vanishing once more, reappearing inside a dark brown, old-looking vehicle.

The car's interior smelled of worn leather, and the dashboard was scratched and faded, and yet it also had self-driving capabilities.

Almost immediately, the dashboard screen flickered to life, revealing an image of Gary seated in a dimly lit office. Papers were scattered around him, but his expression was calm as ever. He smiled. "That was quick."

Don, still in his Predator suit, nodded. "It went perfectly. We can move on to the next phase."

"Brilliant," Gary said, adjusting his tie. "I'll get right on it. Everything's in place on my end. Goodbye for now, sir. Goodnight."

"Goodnight to you too," Don replied.

**Whirr.** The car's engine hummed softly as it began to drive, leaving the warehouse district behind.

After about 15 minutes, the car passed by the familiar road near the Chanel Hills community. Without stopping, Don vanished from the seat, reappearing in his bedroom just like that.

The room was still, quiet, and dimly lit by the soft glow of the digital clock on his nightstand.

He immediately activated his shadow sense, feeling the presence of everyone in the house. Amanda, Summer, and Samantha were all in their rooms, lying in bed.

Winter, on the other hand, was moving around the living room, seemingly studying various objects with silent curiosity. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, if you could this itself ordinary.

Satisfied, Don allowed his Predator suit to dissolve back into its tattoo form, the strange skull on his wrist returning to its dormant state. He stretched slightly, feeling the weight of the night's work settle into his muscles. **Shk.** The soft sound of fabric brushing against skin filled the room as he removed his clothing and got ready for bed.

---

The next morning, Don woke up at his usual time. He went through his routine—stretching, breathing exercises, meditation—letting the calmness wash over him.

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Afterward, he got dressed for his morning jog, pulling on a simple T-shirt and shorts. His mind was clear and focused, though part of him was already thinking about the next move as Predator.

As he headed downstairs, his footsteps light against the polished wood, he found Winter waiting at the bottom of the steps. She stood perfectly still, her gaze meeting his as he descended.

"Good morning," Winter greeted him, her voice as emotionless as ever.

"Morning," Don replied, reaching the bottom of the stairs. He paused, tilting his head slightly. "What were you up to last night?"

Winter straightened, her hands clasped neatly in front of her. "I explored the house more critically, noting all present details. I also simulated several home invasion scenarios and devised how they could be prevented or neutralized with certain security measures."

Don raised an eyebrow, intrigued. He hadn't expected Winter to be so thorough. "Home invasion scenarios, huh? Interesting. How costly would it be to implement these measures?"

Winter responded without hesitation. "The cost would vary depending on where the materials are sourced and how they are transported. However, the estimated price range would be between 50 million and 120 million credits."

Don resisted the urge to sigh. "Right. Well, I'll keep that in mind. Thanks."

He continued toward the front door, pulling his hair back into a loose knot as he spoke. "I'm heading out for a jog. I won't be long."

Winter tilted her head slightly. "Would you like me to prepare breakfast for you upon your return? I can also cook for the entire household if needed. I am capable of replicating the dishes of some of the most well-known chefs to have ever lived."

The offer was tempting. Don paused with his hand on the doorknob, considering it for a moment. But he quickly dismissed the idea, shaking his head. "It's fine. Just help Mom when she comes down to start cooking. Don't offer to take over, just assist with whatever she asks."

Winter's head tilted again, her expression unreadable. "Understood. May I ask why you don't wish for me to cook? Is it because I have yet to earn your trust?"

Don chuckled softly and shook his head. "No, it's not that. You'll cook for me another time. It's just... cooking is Mom's thing. It'd be weird if you took over."

"I see," Winter replied, nodding. "Then I will assist her to the best of my abilities."

Don offered her a small smile before stepping outside, the cool morning air hitting his skin as he closed the door behind him.

As he jogged down the driveway, his thoughts drifted back to his reasoning. Truthfully, he didn't want Winter to cook because it would risk taking away something that Samantha felt was her role.

His goal was to make himself seem more dependent on her, to strengthen that bond. If he started letting Winter handle tasks like cooking and cleaning, it could backfire and make Samantha feel pushed aside—or worse, unnecessary.

As he rounded the corner of the street, his thoughts shifted again. 'I should plan something to do with Samantha,' he thought.

'But what?'

———

As Don jogged back toward the house, his mind wandered to the idea he had been mulling over. 'I wonder if she'll like that...' he thought, but then added, 'I won't be able to set it up alone.'

He soon reached the front door, his thoughts still drifting, and stepped inside. **Click.** The door closed behind him, and immediately, he was hit with a wave of aromas. He raised an eyebrow, confusion washing over him as he tried to place the various scents.

It smelled like… a feast?

Walking toward the kitchen, he was met with a surprising sight. Winter was moving at inhuman speeds, gracefully flitting between pans and cutting boards, preparing several dishes at once.

Her movements were precise, mechanical, yet efficient, as though she was operating on fast-forward. The sheer number of plates she was working on was baffling.

Leaning against the counter, book in hand, was Samantha, smiling as she watched Winter work. Don blinked, momentarily puzzled by the scene. Before he could say anything, Samantha spotted him at the doorway and greeted him warmly.

"Oh, hey Donnie! Can you believe how amazing Winter is at cooking?" She gestured toward the android, who continued preparing multiple dishes with ease. "She can follow instructions to the tee and cook the food nearly perfectly."

Don hadn't expected this at all.

If anything, he thought Samantha would be upset at someone taking over her role as the family's de facto cook. But she looked genuinely pleased, even excited. Before he could ask about it, Samantha picked up a nearby bowl and walked over to him.

"You need to try these samosas," she said, holding one up to him. "I could never get the crispy outer layer right, but just try this." She brought the samosa to Don's mouth, offering him a bite.

Don didn't resist, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully. His eyebrows rose in mild surprise as he nodded. "These are great, actually," he said genuinely, his tone light.

Samantha beamed. "I know, right?" she said, clearly delighted.

Don glanced over at Winter, still busy at work. "Winter, make sure you take note of all the recipes Mom is teaching you."

Samantha looked at him curiously. "Interested in learning to cook, huh?" she asked, raising an eyebrow with a playful grin.

Don narrowed his eyes in confusion for a second before correcting her. "Learn? No. I'm keeping a cheat code for free mom food for life."

Samantha laughed, playfully hitting his chest. "Oh, you," she teased.

Just then, the soft **thud** of footsteps echoed down the stairs.

A groggy Summer shuffled into view, wearing a hoodie and booty shorts, one hand lazily scratching her stomach underneath her hoodie while the other covered a wide yawn. Her eyes were half-open as she sniffed the air.

"Why does it smell like we're having lunch for breakfast in here?" she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

Don and Samantha popped their heads out from the kitchen, spotting Summer as she looked around in confusion. Don couldn't help but smirk. "Wow, I can't believe the smell of food actually woke her up. She really is a fridge assassin."

Summer shot him a frown, clearly not amused. She then raised a hand, tempted to flip him off, but with Samantha standing there, she settled for holding out her fist instead.

Don shrugged casually at this, his smirk growing.

"Not a morning person, huh?" he asked sarcastically.

Before Summer could fire back, Amanda's voice called down from upstairs. "What smells so good?"

"Oh it's-". Don turned to answer, then paused, his brow furrowing. "Wait... are you topless?" he asked, sounding more confused than anything.

Before Amanda could reply, Summer's eyes narrowed at Don with suspicion, her arms crossing over her chest. "Wait… why do you sound excited by that?"

Don blinked innocently. "That's not excitement. It's concern..." He shrugged, as if the whole conversation was perfectly reasonable.

Samantha sighed, clearly used to this dynamic. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, Winter's spoke up. "The food is ready."

Samantha turned in surprise, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of the fully prepared table, neatly arranged with a variety of dishes. It was an impressive spread, with everything from breakfast classics to more intricate meals, all laid out perfectly.

"Wow…" Samantha muttered in amazement, then turned back to the others. "Alright, hurry up and wash up so we're not late for church."

Amanda, still upstairs, let out an exaggerated sigh. "Now I remember why I stopped staying over on weekends," she said in a dramatic, sad tone.

Don blinked, momentarily thrown off. He had actually forgotten about the church plans. He sighed as well, scratching the back of his neck. "Oh, I forgot."

Summer on the other hand crossed her arms, clearly displeased. "I thought that was just a bad dream."

Don raised an eyebrow, glancing at her with a smirk. "Wow, you really hate church, huh?"

Summer shot him a glare, her voice low.

"Shut up."