Chapter 4: Blood and Steel

The streets of the city had become Bateman's kingdom, yet the world around him still teetered on the edge of chaos. He had learned quickly that in this new world, power was everything—both the kind that could be bought and the kind that could be taken. He wasn't just a businessman anymore. The Bateman persona was dead, buried beneath the blood-stained memories of a man who was becoming something far darker. The night was his domain now, a place where he hunted without remorse, where his enemies fell before him like leaves in autumn.

But no hunter is without his challenges. As the days passed, Bateman's reputation began to spread. Voss had kept his word—Bateman was given more resources, more intel, and more tools for his kills. But that wasn't enough. Bateman knew that to truly rise above the chaos, he needed to eliminate the weak spots in his plan. He needed to cement his place as the one to fear, the one to dominate.

The mercenary group he had joined had been useful, but Bateman had no intentions of remaining beneath someone else's thumb for long. Voss had served his purpose, but now it was time to move on. Bateman had learned all he needed to know, and now it was time to make his own moves.

He stood in the heart of the mercenary base, his mind sharp as a blade. The facility was buzzing with activity, mercenaries coming and going, preparing for their next mission. Some of them were tough, seasoned killers who had been in the game for years, others were younger, eager to prove themselves. Bateman was neither. He was beyond them, a level of predator they couldn't even fathom. He moved like a shadow through the halls, his every step calculated, his every glance a silent warning to anyone who dared to cross him.

Voss was in his office when Bateman entered, a manila folder resting on the desk in front of him. The mercenary leader looked up, his expression unreadable. "You've been making waves, Bateman," he said, his voice tinged with curiosity. "I see you've been taking matters into your own hands."

Bateman didn't respond immediately. Instead, he walked around the desk, inspecting the contents of the room as if he owned it. His eyes settled on Voss. "I've outgrown this place. Your time is over. You've outlived your usefulness."

Voss didn't flinch, but Bateman could see the flicker of tension in his eyes. "You're not ready to take over. You think you can just walk in here and claim everything for yourself? You'll never make it without us."

Bateman's lips curled into a smile, but there was no humor in it. "I've already made it," he said, his voice cold and unfeeling. "You've just failed to notice."

Without another word, Bateman stepped forward, his hand moving faster than the eye could follow. He grabbed Voss by the throat, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. The mercenary leader gasped, his hands scrambling to pry Bateman's fingers from his neck. But it was no use. Bateman was too strong, too ruthless. He tightened his grip, feeling the life drain from Voss' body. The sound of bones cracking was like music to Bateman's ears.

With a final, violent motion, Bateman snapped Voss' neck and dropped his body to the floor. The room was silent, save for the faint hum of the machines. Bateman stood over the lifeless corpse, his expression unchanged, his hands stained with blood. He had just taken his first step toward becoming the one true power in this world. But it wasn't enough. He still needed more. More power. More resources. More allies. And soon, he would have them all.

In the days that followed, Bateman began consolidating his position. He took control of the mercenary group, dispatching those who posed a threat to his rule with swift and brutal efficiency. He used the resources Voss had once controlled to fuel his own rise, taking down low-level heroes, targeting vigilantes, and crushing anyone who dared stand against him.

But Bateman's thirst for blood was insatiable. He knew that if he was going to carve his name into this world, he needed to do more than just eliminate weak heroes. He needed to make a statement. He needed to make the world tremble.

He set his sights on a new target—a group of low-tier heroes known as the Silver Sentinels. They had been a thorn in the side of many powerful factions, and Bateman knew that taking them out would send a message to anyone who thought they could stand up to him. The Silver Sentinels were arrogant, believing themselves to be untouchable. Bateman had no intention of letting them remain in the game any longer.

The attack came swiftly and without warning. Bateman's mercenaries stormed the Silver Sentinels' headquarters in the dead of night, cutting through security and overpowering the team with ease. Bateman led the charge, his movements precise and deadly. The Sentinels didn't stand a chance.

The battle was violent, bloody, and relentless. Bateman fought with a fury that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside him. His strength was beyond human now, his reflexes faster than any normal man's. He moved through the chaos like a force of nature, his enemies falling one after the other.

The first to fall was Vanguard, the leader of the Silver Sentinels. He was strong, but no match for Bateman's brutal efficiency. With a single slash, Bateman cut through the hero's armor and drove his blade deep into his chest. Vanguard's body hit the ground with a sickening thud, and Bateman turned to face the rest of the team.

The others didn't fare much better. Bateman tore through them with a savagery that left nothing but blood and broken bodies in his wake. The sound of his enemies' screams filled the air, but Bateman didn't care. This was his world now, and the weak would pay the price for standing in his way.

By the time the battle was over, the Silver Sentinels had been reduced to nothing more than a pile of corpses. Bateman stood in the center of the carnage, breathing heavily, his face splattered with the blood of his enemies. The message had been sent. He was not to be underestimated. No one was safe.

In the aftermath of the massacre, Bateman turned his attention to something far more important—his weapons. He needed something more than just knives and guns. He needed something that would give him an edge, something that would make him unstoppable.

He began to gather the rarest materials in the world—metals that were stronger than steel, more indestructible than anything he had ever encountered. Carbonadium. Galactic Glaze. Cavorite. Vibranium. Adamantium. Uru. Nth Metal. Inertron. Marvelium. And more. Bateman's eyes gleamed with excitement as he acquired each piece, knowing that once he had them all, he would forge a weapon unlike anything the world had ever seen.

With the rare metals in his possession, Bateman set to work, crafting two swords—each one infused with the power of the materials he had gathered. They were more than just weapons. They were extensions of his will, tools of destruction that would bring even the most powerful heroes to their knees.

Once the swords were completed, Bateman wasted no time in testing them. He found a new target—a villain who had been causing problems for some of his clients, someone who had been too cocky, too careless. He would be the first to feel the true power of Bateman's new blades.

The fight was over in seconds. Bateman's swords cut through the villain's defenses like butter, and within moments, the man was on the ground, gasping for breath. Bateman stood over him, his heart pounding with excitement. The blades were perfect. He was unstoppable now.

With his new weapons in hand, Bateman turned his attention to bigger targets. The heroes would come for him soon enough, but he was ready. He had built his empire from the ground up, and now it was time to see just how far his reach extended.