Chapter 174: Chapter 174: Who The F*ck Is Predator (Part 1)

Glancing at his watch, Don remembered his plans for the evening and decided it was time to wrap things up. He looked at the android. "I've heard enough for now. Do you have a name?"

The android tilted her head slightly. "My designation is O.M.E.G.A."

Don shook his head. "No, I mean a real name."

"I do not understand," she replied, her expression unchanging.

He narrowed his eyes. "Aren't you supposed to be super smart?"

Summer smacked him lightly on the shoulder. "She's adaptive, you dummy. She learns over time. Right now, she's operating on basic processes while she studies her environment."

The android nodded. "Your assessment is mostly accurate."

Don rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "In that case, I'll give you a name."

"That is acceptable," she replied.

He snapped his fingers. "From now on, your name is Winter."

"Understood," the android—now Winter—acknowledged. "May I inquire about the reasoning behind this name?"

Don smirked. "Because it's the opposite of Summer here, who doesn't listen to me."

"Hey!" Summer protested, glaring at him.

Winter nodded. "I see. A clever use of naming conventions."

"Don't encourage his dumb ideas!" Summer exclaimed at the android.

Winter looked at her. "But that is part of my function."

Don chuckled. "I think this is the start of a beautiful relationship." He gestured towards the house. "Come on, Winter. Follow me."

"Affirmative," she replied, stepping forward with mechanical grace.

"Wait!" Summer called out, jogging after them. "I'm not done asking questions! And what about the other android?"

Don waved a hand dismissively without turning around. "I'll activate it later."

**Footsteps echoed** in the spacious garage as they made their way towards the connecting door to the house. Summer hurried to catch up, her shoes tapping rapidly against the concrete floor.

"Hey, wait up!" she insisted, falling into step beside Don. "You can't just walk off like that."

Don glanced at her, an amused glint in his eye. "Sure I can. Watch me."

She huffed, crossing her arms. "You're impossible, you know that?"

They soon entered the hallway, the warm lighting contrasting with the cool ambiance of the garage. Winter followed closely behind, her movements smooth and silent despite her size.

Don paused by the staircase, turning to face Summer. "Look, I have things to do. We'll talk more about this later, ok?"

She raised an eyebrow, unwilling to let Don leave until her curiosity was satisfied. "Like what?"

He smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Winter stood beside him, her eyes scanning the surroundings. "Do you require any assistance with your tasks, sir?"

"Not at the moment," he replied. "But thanks for asking."

Summer eyed Winter suspiciously. "Does she have to be so... formal?"

Winter looked at her. "My programming dictates a respectful demeanor towards my administrator."

Don shrugged. "I think it's refreshing. It's about time I got some respect around here."

Summer rolled her eyes. "Of course you do."

He shrugged and started making his way up the stairs. "Anyway, I'm off to get some things done."

"What things?" she pressed, following a few steps behind.

Don sighed and stopped midway, turning to look at her with a slightly tilted head. "Summer, don't you have something else to do?"

Summer frowned and placed her hands on her hips. "Not until you tell me what you're up to."

He sighed. "Fine. I'm going to take a shower and then handle some personal matters. Satisfied?"

"Hardly," she muttered.

Winter observed the exchange quietly. "If privacy is required, I can ensure that no interruptions occur."

Don gave her a thumbs-up. "Appreciated, Winter."

Summer threw her hands up in frustration. "This is ridiculous!"

Don ignored her and continued up the stairs, only saying, "See you later, Summer." She stood at the bottom, watching them ascend with a small frown. "Don't think this conversation is over!" Sёarᴄh the NôᴠelFirё.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Don waved casually as he disappeared around the corner, Winter following closely.

Entering his room, Don closed the door behind them. He leaned against it for a moment, exhaling deeply. 'What a day,' he thought.

Winter stood in the center of the room, hands at her sides as she looked around. "Do you have any specific instructions for me, sir?"

Don raised his he looked at her, considering. "Can you... I don't know, familiarize yourself with the house or something?"

"Affirmative. I will map the premises and note any security vulnerabilities."

Don nodded in agreement while walking toward his closet. "Actually, that could be useful."

"Would you like a report upon completion?"

"Sure," he said, tossing a shirt onto the bed. "Why not."

Winter turned smoothly and exited the room. **Click.** The door closed softly behind her.

After Winter left the room, Don let out a deep sigh and sat on the edge of his bed. He rubbed his temples, contemplating the day's events. 'She could be a significant asset,' he thought, considering Winter's potential.

Not just for his persona as Don Bright, but possibly even as Predator—if he could confirm her loyalty.

His current plan revolved around establishing a dual identity: Don Bright, the aspiring young hero with a promising future, and Predator, his shadowy supervillain alter ego.

As Don, he aimed to be capable but not draw excessive attention. As Predator, he needed to remain unseen, gradually taking control of the city's underworld without anyone connecting the dots. A challenging endeavor, but not impossible.

Using certain powers exclusively as Don and others solely as Predator would help maintain the separation. After all, suddenly developing new abilities would raise unwanted suspicions.

As Don, he could only begin shaping his public image once he started at the Superhuman University on Monday. He needed to assess the environment and see what moves to make.

But as Predator, his work began tonight. His target: the Hell Riders Gang. He planned to either take them over as a puppet organization or dismantle them entirely to set an example. The former would provide him with expendable assets; the latter would boost his reputation in the shadows. Either outcome would serve his goals.

———

Meanwhile, in a dimly lit back room cluttered with old beer crates and dusty equipment, Marcus sat slumped on a metal folding chair.

His hands were bound tightly behind him, the ropes digging into his wrists. His face was a gruesome sight—swollen and bloodied from a relentless beating. One eye was nearly swollen shut, his lip split and oozing blood. Bruises marked where metal knuckles had met flesh repeatedly.

He tilted to one side, his breaths shallow and ragged. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, and black spots were present at the edges of his vision.

In front of him stood Victor—a tall, chubby man with an intimidating presence. He wore a leather jacket with ripped sleeves, revealing tattooed forearms, and his blue jeans were stained with grease.

His face was harsh, with a crooked nose that looked like it had been broken more than once, and cold, piercing brown eyes that showed no mercy.

Marcus tried to speak, his voice barely above a whisper. "Victor... please..."

Victor glared at him. "You got some nerve," he growled, clenching his fist and cracking his knuckles menacingly.

From the corner of the room, T-Back stood silently by the door, his metallic arms crossed over his chest as he spoke up. "You won't get any answers if you kill him, Vic."

Victor shot him a fierce look. "Shut it, T-Back! This is Hell Riders' business, not the club's."

Before T-Back could respond, the door swung open with a **creak**. A woman strode in.

She had tanned brown skin and short black hair that framed her sharp features. Her green eyes were intense, accentuated by the piercing on her nose and the small hoops lining her ears.

A choker wrapped around her neck, and her black leather vest left her midriff exposed, revealing a belly button ring. Tight black leather pants hugged her legs, and heavy boots completed the look.

She stopped a few feet from Victor, her expression stern. "What the hell, Victor?" she demanded.

Victor glanced back at her and spat on the ground. "This idiot lost our shipment and had the audacity to come back claiming it was ghosts! He's lucky I haven't killed him yet, Ash."

Ash maintained her frown, her eyes flicking to Marcus's battered form. "He's barely alive," she pointed out. "How are we supposed to get answers if he's dead?" She crossed her arms. "Whatever attacked our transport killed everyone else without leaving a trace. Our contact in the police says even they have no idea what happened."

Victor gritted his teeth, but Ash's words seemed to penetrate his anger. He turned back to Marcus, grabbing him by the chin and forcing him to look up. A cruel smile spread across his face.

"Alright, Marcus," he said in a low voice. "Tell me everything about this 'ghost' that attacked you."