Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere-Chapter 555: A Busy Night (Part 7)

Gary watched the car idle in front of the gate, posture still, eyes alert. It didn’t attempt entry. Just sat there, engine low, headlights off. Then the driver’s door opened.

Gary glanced down at the pad in his hands and tapped through a few menus. The static feed blinked, then resolved into a narrow visual window aimed toward the road. He pinched two fingers together, zooming in once. Then again. He held it steady on his lap.

A man stepped out.

Gary frowned—not with alarm, but mild recognition. The face didn’t immediately land. He triggered facial recognition the moment the dashboard camera locked on.

Data scrolled.

Name. Affiliation. Clearance history.

"Oh," Gary muttered.

His shoulders loosened slightly. Whatever this was, it wasn’t an emergency. His concern didn’t vanish—it just shifted shape. Benjamin could be handled.

Outside, Benjamin adjusted his cuffs as he leaned back against the hood of his car. He wore a suit, tailored well enough, but the blazer was missing.

Shirt sleeves rolled once, tie loosened at the collar. He didn’t cross the gate. Just stood there, phone in hand, gaze drifting between the rusted fence and the dark stretch of road behind him.

Gary watched for another moment. No unusual movement. No second vehicle. No concealed approach.

"Let’s keep observing for now," Gary said aloud. "If we don’t hear back from Sir Don in fifteen minutes, we’ll scout—"

"—The interior has been secured."

Winter’s voice cut cleanly through the cabin.

Gary blinked, then straightened. "Ah. Good to hear." His brow creased. "Interior? Lower levels, then?"

A pause. He waved the thought away and refocused. "On our end, we have an unexpected guest. Benjamin—" he glanced back to the screen "—from SHQ."

Don’s voice joined the channel a second later. "Is he with anyone?"

"No," Gary replied. "No immediate threats detected."

"Alright," Don said. "We’ll handle it. I think we’re done down here for now."

"As you wish, sir," Gary replied.

Gary leaned back into the seat, suit settling around him, and swiped his datapad—not to return to the feeds, but to pull up a profile.

Harold Barclays.

He studied it while the minutes ticked by.

Outside, Benjamin checked his watch, exhaled, and muttered under his breath. "Is it really here?"

His eyes drifted off to the side.

"Is what here?"

Benjamin screamed.

It tore out of him raw and unfiltered as he flailed backward, heels slipping on gravel. He hit the ground hard—THUD~—glasses skidding off his face as his phone clattered away.

"What the—!"

He froze mid-scramble when he looked up.

Don stood a few steps away, broad frame outlined by the low light, hard to read at first glance but impossible to miss once seen. Too tall. Benjamin’s breath caught, chest rising too fast as he stared.

He swallowed, then dragged a hand down his face and forced himself upright, embarrassment overtaking fear.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, irritation creeping in as he brushed dirt from his trousers.

Don didn’t move. "My android received a location tied to this site," he said evenly. "She came to inspect it."

Benjamin frowned. "So you’re the help Dr. Gadget had me contact?"

Don raised a brow. "I don’t think I follow." 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Benjamin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Listen, kid. It’s complicated. The contact wasn’t meant for you. It was meant for your android."

Don shrugged lightly. "Seems it’s not that simple."

"It never is," Benjamin replied. "Just let your android do whatever she’s doing. Don’t get involved."

"I already am."

Benjamin looked at him for a long second, then shook his head. "Do as you please. I’m done." He turned back toward his car. "As long as the messages went through, my part’s finished."

He reached for the door.

"Wait," Don said. "What is this location about? And what help were you supposed to provide?"

Benjamin paused, hand on the handle. His shoulders sagged.

"I don’t know," he said honestly. "Too much is moving right now. None of it lines up." He opened the door. "I’ve got my own problems. This was just me returning a favor."

He slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine, then leaned out once more.

"And in case it needs saying," he added, "this meeting never happened. Whatever this drags you or your android into—that’s not on me. I’ve done my part."

The car pulled away, tires crunching softly as it disappeared down the road.

Don watched it go, eyes narrowed.

In his ear, Gary spoke. "Well. That was strange."

"Most definitely," Don replied.

"This may become complicated."

Don didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

———

A few days later, Don stood in the Ebon Tower’s private garage, back in a space that felt almost boring in how familiar it had become.

He leaned against the side of his Mustang, one boot hooked casually over the other, a thick folder of documents held loosely in one hand.

He wore a plain white long-sleeved shirt, sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms, blue jeans worn soft at the seams.

Aviators hung from the collar, lenses catching the overhead lights when he shifted. Brown boots rested solidly on polished concrete.

Charles stood opposite him.

Silver robe. House slippers. Hair still immaculate, because of course it was.

Don lifted the folder slightly. "So," he said, "everything I need is in this?"

Charles chuckled and shook his head, hands folding into his sleeves. "Well, if by everything you mean your private contract license and the necessary supporting documents—yes." He tilted his head. "But according to Father, you’ll need far more than that to actually get started. For one, you can’t—"

"I can’t operate without meeting the baseline requirements," Don cut in calmly. "An operator. A base—or multiple bases. And international transport."

Charles smiled, pleased. "Exactly." He stepped closer and tapped the folder once with a finger. "Just be sure your operator is someone you trust. They’ll have access to intel that could make or break you."

Don’s gaze drifted past him, thoughtful. ’That narrows the list fast.’

"I suppose I’ll have to choose carefully," Don said.

Charles sighed and turned away, already done with the conversation. "Anyway, I have several calls to make." He waved lazily over his shoulder. "Ciao, my friend."

Don watched him go, eyes dropping back to the folder as Charles disappeared. After a moment, he pushed off the hood and followed suit, the documents tucked under his arm.

———

An hour later, Don sat in his room, the desk spread with paperwork. Screens glowed softly nearby. Winter hovered at his side, holding several pages mid-air, her optic scanning line after line.

"Everything appears to be in order," she said. "From a legal standpoint, you are cleared. Aside from finances and training, I would assess you as ready to begin."

Don looked up from a page he’d been rereading. "Finances and training?"

"Yes," Winter replied. "Even operating alone, a private superhuman contractor would require a starting reserve of approximately twenty to thirty million dollars. This would cover registered equipment, logistics, travel contingencies, legal retainers, and emergency payouts."

She shifted the documents in her grasp. "As for training—advanced tactical operations, urban and rural engagement drills, coordinated response planning, counter-surveillance, and controlled use-of-force scenarios. Additional focus should be placed on command decision-making under pressure."

Don leaned back in his chair and exhaled. "I wasn’t planning to rush into it."

"The Citadel’s facilities would be suitable for accelerated preparation," Winter added.

"Yeah," Don said, tapping the desk once with his knuckles. "But I’d rather avoid that place for now. At least until the UPSDF presence in the city thins out."

He glanced aside. "I’ll make do with SHQ. It won’t raise eyebrows—everyone will just assume I’m training for recruitment."

"That assessment is reasonable," Winter said. "And for finances?"

Don grimaced faintly. "I need clean money. And I have to declare and register any weaponry I store in-country." He sighed again, fingers drumming the tabletop. "It’s a pain."

The room felt smaller the longer he stared at the documents. What had seemed straightforward in his head now unfolded into layers of permissions, disclosures, and waiting.

Winter watched him quietly.

"It would be optimal to purchase baseline equipment directly from the Department of Defense," she said. "Their pricing is fixed, and their most advanced assets are restricted. However, this route ensures reliability, standardized maintenance, and logistical support."

Don nodded slowly. "It also makes me look good on paper."

"Yes," Winter agreed. "As for operations—"

KNOCK~ KNOCK~

The sound cut clean through the room.

A moment later, Samantha’s voice followed from the other side of the door. "Donnie? Miss Claire is here to see you, sweetie."

Don straightened. "I’ll be out in a minute."

"Okay, honey," Samantha replied, her footsteps retreating down the hall.

Don glanced back at the desk, then at Winter.

"Looks like planning’s on pause," he said.

For now.