Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere

**Thud-thud-thud-thud—**

The tunnel shook with footfalls, heavy and unrelenting.

Don ran up front, pace quick enough to maintain the lead, but not enough to leave the others behind.

He kept his head low, feet cutting silently across the damp ground. The walls around them writhed with sick light as the reflections of their movement bounced across slime and embedded limbs.

Charles followed close behind—silent. The occasional wet crunch underfoot didn't faze him. He moved like a man used to chaos, just not usually this viscous.

Behind them, Agent Hathaway wasn't faring quite as elegantly. Every few meters he slowed, turned, and BOOM—his sidearm screamed through the narrow corridor, flash flaring off the filth-covered walls.

Each shot echoed like a bomb, the blast punching one creature back into the swarm.

The recoil buckled his arm slightly every time.

The momentary flashes stunned the beasts. It bought them seconds. Not more.

"Keep moving!" Don called back.

"I am moving!" Hathaway snapped, already turning mid-run to fire another shot. The light carved a brief window into the madness chasing them—half-seen bodies leaping over each other, limbs bent backward, jaws too wide, eyes glowing with something worse than hunger now.

Then—

Don stopped.

Abrupt. Sudden. His boots planted against the stone with a scrape.

Charles halted just behind him, hand lightly touching Don's shoulder to brace the sudden stop. Calm, still composed. "What is it?"

Agent Hathaway wasn't as graceful.

He almost slammed into Charles from behind, stumbling slightly as he growled out, "Why the hell did you sto—?"

His flashlight beam jerked forward, sweeping past Don's shoulder.

Dead end.

The tunnel ahead was collapsed, rocks and structural remnants packed into a tight, impassable wall. Vines crawled over it like it had been sealed deliberately.

"Shit!" Hathaway's eyes widened. "Did we take a wrong turn?! I was shouting instructions!"

Don didn't move. He stared at the blockage, jaw set.

"I mapped it. I followed it exactly."

"Well then how the hell did you lead us here?" Hathaway argued. His voice cracked slightly, sweat now forming at his temples.

Don's eyes narrowed. He didn't reply.

Charles finally spoke, voice even. "He didn't take a wrong turn."

He glanced at Don, then at the cave-in. "Neither of us did. I kept count of every junction."

Hathaway turned back toward the path they came from, eyes darting.

**GrrooooOOOOOOaaaaarrr—**

The sound rolled through the tunnel like a wave, a dozen voices in unison. It sounded close. Too close.

Don's head turned slightly toward Charles. "I could break through it."

"Then do it," Hathaway snapped, already raising his weapon again.

Don shook his head once. "But not without triggering a full collapse. We get through, but we'll bury ourselves doing it."

He didn't explain further, didn't need to.

His ability—the one that painted structures in his mind like transparent blueprints—had already shown him the branching fractures overhead. One hit in the wrong place and the entire segment would come down.

Charles exhaled through his nose. "Convenient."

Don's brow furrowed. He hadn't heard a cave-in. No debris fall. No tremor. No echo of anything shifting.

Which meant this wasn't just an accident.

Snarling.

Closer now.

Hathaway stepped back from the front, turning as the first form barreled into view.

It didn't crawl—it launched.

Taller than a man but moving like a rabid dog on limbs too long for balance. Its hands dragged claw-lines through the organ-padded walls, raking through dismembered torsos and bursts of slime. Its feet cracked loose bones underfoot with each bound.

The ceiling quivered under its speed, chunks of embedded gore dripping loose.

It roared mid-sprint, a wet sound soaked in saliva and broken teeth.

"GAAARGHHHHH!"

Hathaway fired.

**BOOOM—**

The creature's face disintegrated in a burst of light, bone, and gore. The shot was point blank—Agent Hathaway's arm shaking from the recoil, eyes stinging from the flash.

But even as the thing dropped twitching at his feet, Hathaway didn't feel relief.

Because he'd now emptied the mag.

And there were two more.

Mid-leap. Claws out. Mouths unhinged. Barreling forward with the kind of speed that didn't allow second chances.

He blinked through the blindness, trying to raise the gun again, useless though it was.

"Shit—"

His stomach dropped, mouth half open for a scream he never got to finish.

Then—

**THWACK—CRUNCH**

A sudden blast of wind knocked him back half a step. The force of it hit his chest like a slap from a giant palm. Something wet and heavy sprayed across his vest and helmet—flesh, maybe. Blood. He couldn't tell.

The air vibrated from impact.

He opened his eyes.

Don stood in front of him, both arms extended from a double punch that had torn through the two leaping creatures like they were paper targets.

His fists were coated in meat and sinew, the ends of each knuckle darkened with something thick and pulpy.

Behind Don, the wall was smeared with what remained of the attackers—long trails of spine and shredded flesh sliding down the stone like deflated sacks.

Don didn't look back.

He kept his eyes forward and said flatly, "We need to take the side tunnels. Try to go deeper. Or find another way out."

Agent Hathaway exhaled hard, lungs catching up to the moment.

"Yeah… yeah, alright," he nodded, trying to slow his breathing. "Lead the way. Let me just—"

He fumbled at his chest rig, activating his comms.

"Let me just warn the others."

His voice was no longer professionally detached. The near-death had burned through the briefing tone. What came out now was personal. Urgent.

He pressed the button and spoke fast.

"Margaret, this tunnel is crawling with mutant-class hostiles. Designation approximate: mid C-grade. They're organized. They hunt in packs. Don't let them corner you. Do you copy?"

Static.

He clicked again.

"Margaret? Please answer. It's not safe. Do you read me?"

Still nothing.

His voice cracked slightly.

"Defoe. Agent Defoe, respond. We need confirmation. This is a Blue Echo Nine. Repeat, Blue Echo Nine. Tactical containment breach. Do you copy?"

—

Somewhere else, the device he spoke to lay half-buried under a shredded pack. The green LED flickered faintly.

Gunshots thundered nearby—deep. Federal issue.

Screams followed. Not human. Not anymore.

Growling echoed through the tunnel as well, overlapping roars and rapid footfalls filling every space not held by rock.

A clawed foot landed on the device with a crunch, flattening it against the dirt and stone.

Agent Hathaway's voice sputtered once more—half a word cut off—before the line went full static.

"Defoe…? Hello…?"

Only white noise answered back.