Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere

After Don merges onto the main road, he checks his phone out of habit, briefly considering calling Summer.

But he imagines her sarcastic remarks and quickly dismisses the idea with a sigh. 'She'll just be a pain in the ass,' he thinks, shaking his head.

As he approaches a traffic light, it turns red, forcing him to slow down and stop at the intersection.

Moments later, the white Toyota Corolla pulls up beside him in the adjacent lane.

Don gives the car a quick glance but doesn't think much of it, his attention wandering elsewhere. As he's waiting for the light to change, a Mazda sedan suddenly stops in another lane, despite the traffic light in front of it being green.

The sound of honking cars behind the Mazda pulls Don's attention, and he looks over curiously. The driver of the Mazda, instead of moving, is staring straight at the Corolla next to Don. They exchange subtle nods, as though confirming something silently.

Don notices this subtle exchange and his instincts kick in. His superhuman senses sharpen, taking in the environment with more clarity, while his muscles tense slightly, though his expression remains casual.

'Let's test this,' he thinks.

The moment the traffic light turns green, Don slams his foot on the gas, the Mustang roaring to life and driving away.

In the white Corolla, the lanky man flinches as Don speeds off. The boss, cigarette halfway to his lips, curses under his breath. "Shit!" he yells, tossing the unlit cigarette aside. "He's onto us!"

Without hesitation, he shifts gears and floors it, the Corolla lurching forward in pursuit.

Don glances in the rear-view mirror and sees the Corolla and Mazda weaving through traffic behind him, confirming his suspicions.

'Just my luck,' he thinks, though his face remains calm. His heart rate increases slightly, not out of fear but out of necessity.

He now had a decision to make. 'Should I drive to a police station, or lead them somewhere quiet and handle it myself?'

As he weighs his options, Don becomes increasingly aware of his growing confidence. He was no longer the same person he was before—hesitant and unsure. But he still had to be smart. There was always the possibility that these attackers were stronger, perhaps armed with abilities he wasn't prepared to face.

'But running to the police won't guarantee anything either,' he reasons. 'And if I do, they'll just get cautious next time—if they don't get away scot-free in the first place.'

No, he had to handle this situation directly. After considering the risks, he mutters under his breath, "Nothing risked, nothing gained," before making a sudden turn, now heading toward Oldtown—a place he knew a bit well from his recent training.

The Corolla follows, swerving recklessly through the lanes. The boss in the driver's seat is driving like a madman, nearly colliding with several other cars as he tries to keep up with Don. Vehicles swerve off the road, horns blaring in protest, but the boss doesn't care.

"Boss, slow down!" the lanky man yells, gripping the dashboard as the Corolla narrowly avoids clipping another car. "If we keep driving like this, the cops are gonna get involved, and then we're screwed!"

The boss doesn't even flinch, his grin widening as he replies, "Let them! We'll take care of them too, unless you're getting cold feet now."

The lanky man stutters, visibly shaken by the boss's intensity. "N-no, not at all."

"Good," the boss grunts, shifting his focus back to the chase. "Now shut up and focus on the prey."

Once Don broke away from the congested city roads, he pushed the Mustang even harder, his superhuman senses making it almost effortless to navigate at such high speeds.

He could feel the engine roaring beneath him, and each twist and turn in the road was met with precise, instinctual control. His eyes darted to the rearview mirror as he picked up the sounds of more vehicles—bikes now, their low grumble blending with the tires of sedans and pickup trucks chasing after him.

'Just how many of these guys are there?' he wondered, clicking his tongue in irritation. But the fog, he realized, could work in his favor. While his heightened senses allowed him to partially see through it, it would be difficult for the others to maintain the same speed without risking a fatal accident.

Back in the white Corolla, the boss was growing visibly frustrated, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. "What the hell is this little fucker trying to pull?" he growled, his face contorted in irritation.

The lanky man beside him glanced nervously at the surrounding area and muttered, "Boss, I think he's headin' for Oldtown. I've heard some bad stuff about that place... ghosts, abandoned shit, you know?"

The boss scoffed, waving his concern off. "Ghosts? Idiot." He then snatched the walkie-talkie mounted near him and barked into it, "Start shootin' at the fucker. Aim for the tires, though—I like that car."

Laughter filled the channel, followed by various confirmations of "Got it, boss!" and "No problem!"

The boss chuckled to himself. "We're far enough from the city now. No one's gonna care if they hear bullets."

Suddenly, the crack of gunfire echoed through the mist. Old, battered sedans and rusty pickups following behind began opening fire, their equally worn-out guns spitting bullets in Don's direction.

The shots whistled past Don's Mustang, some smashing into the rear of the car. His expression darkened, irritation bubbling up inside him. The winding roads made it difficult for them to aim directly, but a few bullets managed to hit the back, cracking the rear windshield.

'I can't deal with this yet... focus, focus,' Don told himself, pushing the car faster. His ears then caught something else—a low, rumbling horn from a truck up ahead, its large lights barely visible through the fog. 'This could work,' Don thought, a plan forming in his mind.

As he neared the massive truck, he rolled down his window, his eyes flicking toward the rear-view to see his pursuers still hot on his tail, their gunfire growing more desperate. But More bullets slammed into the rear of his Mustang, shattering the back glass.

He gritted his teeth but kept his focus.

Finally, Don locked his eyes on the massive truck, now just meters ahead.

Then, with a deep breath, he extended his telekinetic powers toward the freighter's tires, concentrating on the front wheels. He felt an immediate sharp, agonizing headache flare up in his skull as he forced the tires to a sudden halt.

His vision blurred for a moment, and the Mustang wobbled dangerously, nearly veering off the road, but Don clenched the steering wheel tight and managed to steady himself, though the pounding in his head persisted.

The truck responded just as Don had hoped. Its massive front wheels locked, and the enormous vehicle veered violently.

The driver, caught completely off guard, tried to salvage the situation, but it was far too late. The truck's momentum sent it careening sideways, its heavy cargo of logs snapping free from their restraints.

Huge wooden logs began tumbling off the freighter, bouncing and rolling across the road in chaotic fashion.

**THUD! THUD!** The sound of crashing logs echoed through the fog, accompanied by screeching tires and honking horns. As the massive logs scattered across the road, they created a deadly obstacle.

The boss in the Corolla jerked his head toward the sound of screeching tires, just as his lanky companion pointed ahead in panic. "BOSS! LOOK OUT!" he screamed, his voice cracking with fear.

But it was too late.

One of the gigantic logs seemed to appear out of nowhere and slammed into the front of the Corolla with a bone-rattling **CRASH!**, sending the car veering wildly out of control. Latest updates from m _vlempyr.

The boss let out a string of curses, fighting with the steering wheel, but before he could regain control, another log barreled into the side of the car. **BANG!**

The impact flipped the Corolla violently into the air, tumbling end over end before crashing down onto the side of the road, rolling into the dense forestry surrounding the highway.

**SMASH!** The sound of glass shattering and metal crunching filled the air as the car came to a devastating halt against a tree. The vehicle was now a mangled heap of twisted metal, with steam hissing from the engine as it sputtered out.

Don, still driving, glanced in the rearview mirror just in time to catch the chaos unfolding behind him. He saw the log-laden truck blocking the road and the wreckage of the Corolla disappearing into the trees.

A small smirk crept across his face. 'Well, that took care of some of them.'

His headache still throbbed from the strain of his telekinesis, but the danger wasn't completely gone. He could still hear the sound of vehicles and panicked voices in the direction of the wreckage.

'Alright, time to finish this,' Don thought.

Because even if the logs and truck didn't take out all of them, it definitely had their attention focused elsewhere.

And so this was the perfect opportunity to finish them off and get some answers.

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