Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere

Roxy turned toward the sound of the sirens immediately she heard them, her eyes widening with fear. Without a second thought, she sprinted away, leaving her friends scattered on the pavement.

The sirens grew louder, and a police car pulled up to the sidewalk near Don. The car had a sleek, slightly futuristic design, with streamlined curves and a glossy black finish. Blue and red lights flashed on its roof, casting a glow over the scene.

A voice boomed from the car's megaphone. "Put your hands up!"

Don then thought, 'Are you fucking kidding me?' Before slowly raising his hands while still panting heavily from the fight. The car door opened, and an officer stepped out, drawing his gun cautiously.

"Get down and put your hands behind your back!" the officer yelled, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Don tried to explain, "They attacked me—"

"Get down now!" the officer interrupted, his grip on the gun steady.

Irritated but unwilling to test his luck against a firearm, Don began to comply.

Just as he was about to lower himself to the ground, the hotel's door swung open. The receptionist hurried out, his facial expression very much relaxed.

"He was the one being attacked! That's why I called the police!" the receptionist shouted.

The officer hesitated, looking uncertain. Then, the driver's door of the police car opened, and another officer, clearly higher-ranking, stepped out. He adjusted his belt and surveyed the scene with a keen eye, taking in the sight of the four motionless bodies around Don.

"Stand down," he ordered his colleague, who reluctantly lowered his weapon but kept a wary eye on Don.

The higher-ranking officer approached Don, his expression stern but calm. "Care to share what happened here?"

Don took a deep breath and recounted the events, detailing the attack and his defensive actions. The officer listened intently, nodding occasionally, while his colleague called for paramedics and began cuffing the unconscious assailants.

When Don finished, the officer gave a small nod. "Alright, I'll file a report, but I need you to come down to the station to give a full statement."

Don glanced at the fallen attackers and then back at the officer. "Sure, I understand."

The officer motioned toward the police car. "Let's get you down there. It's just a precaution."

As Don walked towards the car, he couldn't help but think about the strange twist his life had taken.

Don didn't argue with the officer and just complied. He had no real reason to do or say anything, so he simply extended his hands to be cuffed. The officer reassured him, "Don't worry. If what you say is true, you'll be out in a few hours." Don just thought that the justice system in this world seemed as flawed as the one of his former life.

The officer's colleague approached to cuff Don and instructed him, "Put your hands behind your back." Don wondered, 'What's this guy's problem. He took a few seconds to comply, and the officer asked sharply, "Are you resisting?"

Don then thought, 'This fucker,' already in a foul mood from nearly getting robbed. However, he put his hands behind his back, and the officer arrested him before leading him toward the vehicle.

Meanwhile, his colleague got a final statement from the receptionist. During this time, an old pickup truck pulled up behind the police car. It was a beat-up vehicle, with rust spots along the sides and a dented front bumper. The engine rattled as it stopped, and a woman immediately rushed out.

She had messy blonde hair tied into a ponytail, deep blue eyes, and wore a buttoned-up plaid pink shirt with jean shorts. Her appearance was both rugged and striking, and she moved quickly.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded as she reached the officer leading Don to the police car.

The officer addressed her calmly, "Ma'am, please step away. We have this under control."

"Why do you have my nephew in handcuffs?" she insisted, her voice rising with anger. "I have a right to know!"

The officer who was taking the final statement approached and asked, "What's the problem here?"

It was only then that Don realized this was his Aunt Amanda. He hadn't recognized her immediately because she looked surprisingly youthful, like she was in her late twenties at most.

Amanda didn't waste any time. "Why is my nephew in cuffs? He's clearly hurt and you haven't even treated his wounds!"

The officer explained the scene, "Ma'am, your nephew was involved in an altercation. We need to sort out the details at the station. It's believed he was attacked by-."

Amanda's eyes narrowed as she glanced at Don's bleeding hand. Her anger flared. "How dare you arrest him after he was attacked? Look at his hand! You haven't even given him first aid. Are you really this incompetent?"

The officers exchanged uneasy glances, now fully aware of the bleeding wound on Don's hand. They realized how bad it looked to have a young man who was just attacked in handcuffs, visibly injured and without immediate medical attention.

Amanda pressed on, "You should be ashamed! If you don't release him right now, I'll make sure the entire community knows about this, and I'll sue every one of you for misconduct."

Don watched the officers, noting their growing discomfort. The higher-ranking officer sighed and turned to his colleague, "Get the first aid kit."

Amanda crossed her arms, her eyes blazing with protective fury. "See that you do. And uncuff him. Now."

The officer who had cuffed Don hesitated but eventually complied, removing the cuffs from Don's wrists. Don felt a wave of relief wash over him as he rubbed his sore hands.

"Thank's, Aunt Amanda," Don said quietly.

Amanda nodded firmly. "You're welcome, Donnie. Let's get you patched up and out of here."

The officers stepped back, their authority clearly challenged and diminished by Amanda's fierce defense. They moved quickly to administer first aid to Don's hand, and the tension began to ease.

As the paramedics arrived to attend to the unconscious attackers, Don and Amanda made their way to the pickup truck. Amanda turned to the officers one last time. "I expect a full report on this incident. And remember, you're on notice."

With that, they drove off, leaving the scene behind and heading towards what Don hoped would be a more peaceful place.

Aunt Amanda drove off with Don, her grip tight on the steering wheel as she vented her frustrations. "Can you believe that, Donnie? What a mess! Those officers didn't even think twice before cuffing you. Your mother's definitely going to sue once she hears about this."

Don glanced at her, his eyes briefly drawn to her very visible cleavage before quickly looking away. Amanda suddenly turned to face him, her eyes full of concern. "What's wrong?"

"I'm fine," Don replied quickly. "Just feeling a bit drained."

"Do you want to stop at a hospital?" she asked, her voice softening.

"No, I'll be fine."

"Don't act tough," Amanda chided. "I'm taking you to a nearby clinic where my friend works. They'll make sure you're properly treated."

Don just nodded, and they both fell silent. As they drove, Don took in the sights of the city.

He noticed the busy streets filled with people, the tall buildings with their reflective glass windows, and the occasional green space breaking up the urban landscape. The city was filled with activity.

After a while, Amanda broke the silence. "So… you want to become a superhero?"

"Yeah," Don answered briefly, not offering more.

Amanda sighed. "I'm sorry, Donnie. I didn't want our reunion to be like this."

"Life is unpredictable," Don said, his tone just as distant as when they spoke on call.

"Sure is," Amanda agreed, but she fell quiet again, unsure how to respond to Don's detached demeanor.

They soon arrived at a small clinic tucked away on a quiet street. The building was modest, with a clean, welcoming appearance.

They quickly exited the car, and Amanda led Don inside. The interior was bright and modern, with soft chairs in the waiting area and calming pastel colors on the walls.

The receptionist, a pretty woman with long black locked hair and tanned skin, looked up as they entered. "Hey, Amanda! Come to flaunt your new boyfriend?" she teased with a grin.

Amanda rolled her eyes. "This is my nephew, not my boyfriend Jazmine."

The receptionist named Jazmine narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. "Is that little Donnie?" she asked, prompting other, more elderly staff members to glance over with curiosity.

Don simply wondered to himself what was going on. He felt like a spectacle under the gaze of the clinic staff. The receptionist's eyes widened in recognition. "Wow, you've grown up! Last time I saw you, you were just a little kid."

"Time flies," Amanda added with a chuckle, nudging Don forward gently. "He needs some first aid. Got into a bit of trouble."

"Right, come on in. We'll take good care of you," Jazmine said, standing up and motioning them to follow her.

As they moved further into the clinic, Don noticed the elderly staff members giving him approving nods and warm smiles. The clinic had a cozy atmosphere, with personal touches that made it feel less sterile and more like a community hub.