Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere

The harsh **BANG** of a fist striking metal echoed through the room as Dominic's father slammed his hand against the pod's outer casing.

The sudden noise caused both his wife Denice and son Elliot to snap their heads up from their seated positions in the lounge area, their eyes wide with concern.

Dr. Rajesh adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses and stepped forward, his white lab coat swishing as he moved. "Mr. Tex, sir, please to be careful with equipment. School may charge for damages."

Mr. Tex turned toward the doctor, his face reddening as he straightened himself up to his full height. "You reckon I can't afford your piece of junk pod?" He jabbed a finger toward the device. "There's somethin' wrong with this damn thing!"

Donald, who had been quietly observing from his position near the pod Don was in, couldn't help but furrow his brow. 'What's this man's deal?' he thought, watching the scene unfold.

Dr. Rajesh raised his hands in a placating gesture, his voice remaining measured despite being yelled at. "Please to be relaxing, Mr. Tex. I knowing you can afford replacement, but why to waste 1.5 million credits? This being developer specification pod."

The warning in Dr. Rajesh's words was clear, despite his broken English. Mr. Tex's jaw clenched, a vein pulsing in his temple as he processed the astronomical figure.

After a moment, he clicked his tongue and spun on his heel and ascended to the lounge area.

Mrs. Tex and Elliot suddenly became intensely interested in the large display screen mounted on the wall, their bodies rigid with forced concentration.

Only the youngest Tex seemed unfazed by the commotion, her small fingers tapping away at her mobile game as she sat cross-legged next to her mother.

Mr. Tex dropped heavily into the plush chair next to Elliot, the furniture creaking under his weight. "Would y'all look at this?" he grumbled, gesturing toward the screen with a disgusted wave of his hand. "Absolutely pathetic."

The display showed a replay of Dominic's virtual death - the moment Don's bullet caught him from behind. The footage then shifted to a split-screen view, showing both participants' perspectives of the encounter.

"This ain't right," Mr. Tex continued, crossing his arms over his chest. "My boy ain't no yellow-bellied coward to get shot in the back like some common varmint."

Mrs. Tex reached over and placed a gentle hand on her husband's arm. "Now, sugar, it's just a training exercise-"

"Training exercise my ass!" Mr. Tex yanked his arm away, causing his wife to flinch. "I didn't raise no son of mine to-"

"Sir," Dr. Rajesh interrupted, clearing his throat. "Perhaps we should to be focusing on learning experience? Virtual training being very valuable tool for-"

"Don't you lecture me about value, doc," Mr. Tex snapped, his accent thickening with anger.

Back in the virtual world, Dominic found himself standing in the master bedroom once again. His jaw was clenched tight, hands gripping his weapon until his knuckles turned white.

He knew his family was watching outside - he could almost feel his father's disappointment. Taking a deep breath, he tried to maintain his composure.

'Pa's gotta be seein' red right about now because of this sum'bitch,' he thought, switching his loadout again.

This time, a shotgun materialized in his hands - a Remington 870. The weight felt reassuring as he checked the chamber.

**Crunch Crunch**

Suddenly, he heard footsteps crunching on broken glass outside 'He's fixin' to come back inside,' Dominic thought, moving swiftly out of the room and into the hallway.

He made minimal noise as he positioned himself at the edge of the wall near the stairs, using the corner as cover.

Silence fell over the farmhouse and Dominic held his breath. Then - crash - the sound of breaking glass echoed from the kitchen below, followed by rustling movements.

"Got ya now," Dominic whispered, taking the stairs two at a time. He rounded the corner towards the kitchen entrance, shotgun at the ready.

But Don was faster. Like a snake, he sprang from behind a corner, daggers in hand. Dominic tried to bring his shotgun up, but the distance was too short. Don closed the gap in a heartbeat, his blades slicing through the air in opposite arcs.

**Slash Slash**

The strikes connected, sending vibrations through Dominic's virtual body before everything went black before respawned outside by the rusted tractor.

Dominic didn't even bother checking the score tab showing him down 0-4.

"Fuck! I ain't done with you yet, you yellow-bellied snake!" he angrily yelled, charging back into the house.

He swept his shotgun left and right, checking corners as he moved. Hearing footsteps creak overhead, Dominic snapped his head up.

**Thump Thump**

Without wasting time, he rushed for the stairs, taking three at a time now. Once upstairs, he approached the master bedroom. But not taking any chances, he unloaded three shots through the door and adjacent wall.

**BOOM BOOM BOOM**

Splinters flew as the buckshot tore through wood, but no hit markers appeared. No cry of pain. Just silence.

"Come on out, you sneaky sum'bitch!" Dominic shouted, kicking the door open with such force it nearly came off its hinges.

He cleared the corners systematically - first left, then right, shotgun barrel leading the way. But the room was empty, save for the disturbed dust floating in the sunbeams streaming through the broken window.

"Where in tarnation..." he muttered, scanning the room once more. The bed remained untouched, the wardrobe door still closed, and the writing desk stood silently in its corner. But Don was nowhere to be seen.

Seeing no sign of Don, Dominic turned to leave the master bedroom, his shoulders tense and his trigger finger itchy. But just as he pivoted toward the doorway, the air exploded with the deafening sound of gunfire.

**BRRRRATATATATAT!**

Pure instinct took over and Dominic's body launched forward into a desperate dive, his arms spreading wide as he attempted to escape the incoming fire. It was exactly the wrong move.

Under the bed, Don was prone, his weapon's sights already perfectly aligned. What would have been leg shots now tracked upward into Dominic's vital organs as his dive brought his torso into the line of fire.

The impacts shook through Dominic's body, each bullet sending violent vibrations through him.

As Dominic crashed to the wooden floor, his head turned just enough to catch sight of his killer. There was Don, flat on his stomach under the bed like a spider waiting for its prey, the barrel of his weapon still smoking.

Dominic was speechless. The sheer audacity of the camping spot left him dumbfounded.

**RAT-TAT-TAT!**

Don squeezed off several more rounds, ending any chance of Dominic's survival. The world dissolved around Dominic, his consciousness pulled away from the farmhouse and reassembled in the barn - the game's way of saying "take a breather, cowboy."

Dominic materialized inside the barn's ground floor, his body hitting hay-strewn planks. He stood there for a moment, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit," Dominic muttered, his voice strained from anger. "Here I am checkin' corners like my mama taught me, and this feller's belly-crawlin' under furniture like some kind of desert snake."

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