第1章厨房春潮-我的妺妺h

Sylvia\'s eyes wided with understanding, and she quickly added, "That\'s all the more reason to ask my mom! She majored in Meta-Human and Superhuman Law, and she\'s got tons of experice with this kind of thing."

Samantha nodded, her expression softing. "Oh, that\'s great th, Sylvia. Let\'s go ask her now so you two ar\'t late for school."

Sylvia gave an thusiastic nod and was the first to head out of the kitch, calling back to Summer, "Come on!"

Summer, still trying to wrap her head a the situation, looked at Don with a mix of confusion and disbelief. "You\'ve got some explaining to do later," she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

Don simply shrugged, trying to keep his expression neutral. "What did I do?"

Summer huffed, not satisfied with his nonchalant response, and left the kitch, following Sylvia.

Samantha turned to Don, asking, "Are you coming along?"

Don shook his head slightly. "I\'ll stay here and keep aunt Amanda company."

Amanda chuckled and gave Don a playful look. "Lucky me."

Samantha smiled warmly. "Alright, I\'ll be back soon," she said before following Sylvia and Summer out of the house.

Once they were gone, Amanda turned to Don, her expression shifting to one of concern. "How\'s your arm?" she asked, her voice soft with worry.

Don glanced at her and could see she was referring to the injury he had sustained back at her farm wh they were attacked by the mutant. He raised his arm to show her and flexed it slightly. "The wound has pretty much healed, but my bones still feel a bit weak," he admitted.

Amanda nodded, her brow furrowing. "That\'s good to hear, but if you feel any pain, you should tell me right away." She sighed, a hint of guilt in her voice. "I don\'t like lying to your mom, but she tds to over-worry."

Don offered her a reassuring smile. "I get it, aunt Amanda. You\'re just looking out for everyone."

Amanda\'s expression shifted to one of playful mischief as she leaned closer and asked, "So, what\'s going on with you and Sylvia?"

Don rolled his eyes, trying to play it off. "I don\'t know what you\'re talking about."

Amanda narrowed her eyes at him, clearly not buying it. "Oh, come on, Don. I know wh a girl is smitt. You should ask her out. She\'s a nice girl."

Don shook his head with a small smirk at the corners of his mouth. "I like older wom," he replied, his tone teasing.

Amanda burst out laughing, her eyes sparkling with amusemt. "Are you serious, or are you just pulling my leg?"

Don shrugged, his expression igmatic. "Who knows?"

Before the conversation could continue, Samantha returned, a smile on her face. "Sylvia\'s mother agreed to help, but she says we\'ll have to go about it a bit differtly."

Don raised an eyebrow, curious. "What do you mean?"

Samantha explained, "Sylvia\'s mother wants herself and me to go to the HQ first to review the documts. If everything is okay—which she highly doubts—th we\'ll ask you to come. But it\'s more likely that we\'ll need to request some changes."

Don nodded, understanding that this was likely more complex than Samantha was letting on, but appreciating the summary. "That sounds like a good plan. Just keep me posted."

Samantha smiled. "No problem. I\'m going to shower and get ready since Sylvia\'s mother will be here to pick me up after she drops Sylvia and Summer off at school."

Don nodded. "Alright, I\'ll be heading out for a few hours too. I\'ll be back by lunch."

Amanda, who had be quietly observing the conversation, let out an exaggerated sigh. "How come everyone has plans except me?"

Don grinned, tempted to spd more time with Amanda, but he knew there wasn\'t much to bond over at the momt. Instead, he answered with a shrug, "Maybe you can use the time to cook us a meaty lunch."

Amanda laughed, shaking her head. "I see how it is. Fine, I\'ll see what I can whip up."

With a wave, Don said his goodbyes to both Samantha and Amanda, heading for the garage. As he walked through the house, he could hear the soft patter of rain against the windows, the weather outside still damp and cool.

He reached the garage, where his Mustang awaited him, ready for the road.

———

Twty minutes later, Don found himself driving northward towards Old Town, located on the outer edges of Santos City.

His phone, securely mounted on the dashboard, displayed directions from Gary Assist, guiding him through the winding, deteriorating roads. The closer he got to Old Town, the more the surings seemed to change.

The smooth, well-maintained streets of the city gave way to cracked asphalt, riddled with potholes that forced him to slow down.

As he approached the trance to the town, a worn-out sign came into view, partially obscured by overgrown weeds. The original message, "Welcome to Old Town," had be defaced. The word "Old" was roughly scratched off, replaced with the word "Dead," painted in bright red—though Don had an unsettling feeling it might not be paint at all.

"Well, that\'s not a bad sign at all," Don muttered to himself, his voice sarcastic as he drove past the sign and into the town.

Old Town itself was a desolate place, a far cry from the bustling neighborhoods of Santos City. The buildings were old, many of them worn down to the point of collapse.

Paint peeled from the walls, and brok windows were common sight. The streets were also eerily empty, not a single soul in sight.

The silce was only brok by the occasional caw of a crow or the rustling of overgrown vegetation in the wind.

Potholes dotted the roads, forcing Don to navigate carefully. Every now and th, he ev spotted the carcass of an animal, further adding to the eerie atmosphere of the place.

"Gary, does anyone actually live in Old Town?" Don asked, his eyes scanning the dilapidated surings as he drove.

Gary Assist\'s voice came through the speakers. "Officially, Old Town has be abandoned for decades. The city council has plans to repurpose the land for commercial projects, but those plans have be delayed. The official population is listed as zero.

However, it\'s known that the area has a history of gang activity, homeless campmts, and mutant infestations, particularly in the catacombs beath the town."

"Just great," Don muttered, pulling his Mustang to a stop near a cluster of rusted, abandoned cars that looked like they hadn\'t moved in years. He cut the gine and stepped out, the soles of his shoes crunching against the gravelly g.

The cold rain continued to fall, its light drizzle adding to the overall bleakness of the sce.

Don stood by his car, taking in the eerie silce that veloped the town. His superhuman sses kicked in, scanning the area for any signs of life or danger. But aside from the rain tapping against the g, the wind whistling through brok windows, and the rustling of leaves in the overgrown bushes, there was nothing.

\'This place is creepy as hell,\' Don thought, gripping the crowbar he\'d tak from the trunk of his car. \'Better safe than sorry.\'

He looked toward the northeast, where Gary Assist had indicated the old church was located.

Through the thicking fog, he could just make out the faint silhouette of the building. Its gothic architecture stood ominously in the distance, the upper parts barely visible through the mist.

With a sigh, Don began walking toward the church. The worn-out gate at the trance of the churchyard creaked as he pushed it op. It was already slightly ajar, and he couldn\'t help but wonder if it was always left like that or if someone—or something—had passed through rectly.

The pavemt underfoot was cracked and unev, with large sections missing tirely, replaced by patches of dirt and weeds.

As for the church itself, it was like a relic, its once-grand structure now crumbling. Statues of angels and saints, many with their faces eroded or limbs brok, lined the pathway.

The tall pillars that held up the building were chipped, and several stained-glass windows were shattered, leaving jagged edges a the frames. Above, the bell tower rose into the fog, the bell within rusted but still intact.

Don approached the main trance, the heavy wood doors worn and weathered by time.

He reached for the handle, and before he could ev apply pressure, a strong gust of wind blew the doors op with a loud **creak**.

The sudd movemt startled a colony of bats that had be roosting in the rafters, sding them screeching and flapping a the cavernous interior. Below, rats scurried across the floor, disappearing into the shadows.

Don remained by the trance, taking in the interior of the church. The pews were rotting, many of them overturned, and the altar at the far d was covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs.

Brok pieces of the ceiling littered the floor, and what remained of the stained-glass windows cast distorted, dim patterns of light on the walls.

He strained his ears, listing for any sound that didn\'t belong—footsteps, whispers, anything. But the only sounds were those of the bats settling back down and the rats rustling in the darkness.

"Let\'s get this over with," Don muttered, stepping inside.