Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere-Chapter 307: Not So Awesome Foursome (Part 9)

The clock on the dashboard glowed faintly, its green digits reading 8:32 PM. The pink G-Wagon crept forward at a snail’s pace, the sea of brake lights ahead painting the road a dull crimson.

Don was hunched slightly in the passenger seat, his phone angled low to avoid glare. A notification popped up—Tori’s message.

———

Traffic is pretty crazy today. What road are you guys on? Me and Hector will just come to you.

———

Don glanced out the window, scanning the surroundings. The intersection for Eastend Mall wasn’t far, but the traffic was painfully sluggish. He tapped the screen, pulling up the maps app. The little blue dot danced near the label: Slater Road. With a few quick swipes, he typed back:

———

We’re on Slater Road in a pink G-Wagon, just near the intersection when entering Eastend Mall.

———

He hit send and barely had time to put the phone down before Donald spoke up.

"Hey bro," Donald started, his voice hesitant despite the casual phrasing. He adjusted the volume on the stereo, muting the low thrum of ambient lo-fi beats. "This Tori and Hector... what’re they like? Y’know, just so I know how we can all, uhm, vibe."

Don glanced up, the question pulling him out of his usual half-apathetic headspace. Donald didn’t seem like the type to care about impressions today, not with the shiny red blazer and gold chain he was rocking like he owned the city. But his hand on the steering wheel drummed a nervous rhythm, and his posture was a little too stiff for someone claiming to be chill.

Donald caught Don’s sidelong look and added quickly, "I mean, if they’re your friends, I just wanna, you know... get a feel for the group."

Don’s lips twitched. ’He’s overthinking it.’

"I don’t know them too well, honestly," Don admitted after a pause, leaning back in his seat. He shrugged, tapping his fingers against the edge of the phone. "Hector’s... energetic. Tori’s more laid-back. That’s about it."

It wasn’t much of an answer, but it seemed to work. Donald exhaled, his shoulders dropping a fraction as the tension bled out.

"Cool, cool..." Donald muttered, half to himself. His eyes stayed on the road, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. ’Don’t overdo it. Play it smooth, man.’

The silence that followed was short-lived.

**Thwap!** **Thwap!**

The sound of knuckles on glass ended the brief silence, making Donald flinch so hard he almost hit his head on the roof.

"What the—!?" he yelped, spinning toward the source. His outfit sparkled obnoxiously under the G-Wagon’s soft interior lighting, emphasizing his startled expression.

Don didn’t so much as blink. He turned his head toward the window with calm movement, already guessing who it was. Through the tinted glass, Hector’s face appeared, his grin wide as he waved.

"Don, it’s me!" Hector’s voice muffled through the glass, "Open up, primo!"

Outside the pink G-Wagon, which looked more like a highlighter stuck in the middle of traffic than a car, Hector stood waving at the tinted window. He kept glancing around, visibly impressed. A G-Wagon was a status symbol, and even with the traffic crawling, it drew attention.

Hector’s outfit wasn’t as outrageous as Donald’s, but it wasn’t exactly subtle either. A plain white tee and ripped jeans paired with spotless white Air Force Ones might’ve screamed "low-key" if not for the overkill of accessories.

Four chains, gold and silver, caught every bit of light and sparkled obnoxiously. His wrists jangled with iced-out bracelets, and his massive watch looked like it belonged on a billboard. When he flashed his toothy grin, the lower teeth grill sealed the deal.

To anyone passing by, he looked like he was ready to sell mixtapes on the corner—or maybe just audition for a rap video.

Beside him stood Tori, her arms crossed and her cheeks flushed a soft pink, clearly embarrassed. She’d kept it simple with converse sneakers, a modest skirt, and a long-sleeved blouse that hugged her figure without being flashy. The outfit might not have been high-end, but it didn’t matter—her natural beauty did all the work.

"Hector," Tori said, her tone loud enough even in the noisy street. "Did you have to tap it like you’re la policía or something? Geez, we didn’t even call to confirm."

Hector turned away from the window, giving her an exaggerated, unimpressed look. "C’mon, sis. How many pink G-Wagons you think are rollin’ around Eastend tonight? Uno? Dos? Nah, just this one. This is primo shit."

Tori sighed, but before she could argue, the driver’s window slid down with a smooth **whir**.

Both siblings leaned in, expecting Don’s usual laid-back face to greet them. Instead, they were met with Donald’s grin—paired with that loud red blazer, shiny gold chain, and an aura of forced confidence.

For a moment, Hector froze, his grin faltering. He genuinely thought they’d walked up to the wrong car.

That was until his eyes darted to the passenger seat, where Don leaned slightly into view.

"Well, aren’t you guys getting in?" Don said casually, his tone flat but unmistakably amused.

Hector’s grin returned in full force, and he stepped forward eagerly. "Say less, primo. You don’t gotta tell me twice."

He swung open the back door with a solid **click**, pausing only to motion dramatically at Tori. "Ladies first. I’m still a gentleman, after all."

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Tori rolled her eyes, mumbling something under her breath in Spanish as she ducked into the car. "Nomás di que vas a empezar tu transmisión pendeja ya," she muttered while settling into the seat.

Hector chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ay, chill, sis," he replied, pulling out his phone and holding it up slightly as he shrugged. "Pero, like… I can’t miss this oportunidad, you feel me? This could get me trending."

Tori shot him a withering glare but didn’t say anything.

Donald twisted slightly in his seat, a polite if overly enthusiastic smile plastered on his face. "Streaming, huh? What kind?"

Hector grinned, his phone already aimed at himself as he adjusted the lighting. "Whatever the people want, bro. Highlights. Hot takes. You know, keeping it real for my fans."

In the passenger seat, Don turned his head slowly, watching Hector with a look that hovered somewhere between curiosity and disbelief. ’He streams?’ he thought, tilting his head. ’Well this is gonna be a long night.’

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As Hector adjusted his phone for the perfect angle, the faint sound of a notification pinged from his screen. Tori sighed audibly, leaning back in her seat.

"Just don’t make me part of your dumb little livestream," she warned, her tone tired but resigned.

Hector chuckled as he hit the record button. "No promises, sis."