Bateman stepped out of the sterile room, his mind whirling as he absorbed the reality of his new existence. Every step he took felt surreal, as if his very presence in this world was an anomaly. The corridor stretched on endlessly before him, illuminated by harsh, neon lights that buzzed with a mechanical hum. It was as though the world had been designed with one purpose in mind: to test him, to push him to the edge of what he could endure. He was not the man he had been. He was something far darker, far more dangerous.
The man who had welcomed him was already gone, leaving Bateman alone in the cold, metallic silence. Yet, the promise of power echoed in his mind. He wasn't just reborn—he had been forged anew, crafted by the hands of fate, or perhaps something far more sinister. Whatever it was, Bateman could feel the strength inside him, pulsing, waiting for release.
His body moved with an unnerving fluidity, a strength he had never known before. His senses were heightened—every sound, every movement, every flicker of light seemed amplified. The slightest shift in the air sent a ripple through him, a sharp reminder that he was no longer just a man, a businessman, a killer hiding behind a mask. He was a predator, a force of nature, and the world was his hunting ground.
His thoughts turned back to the man who had spoken to him—Voss. The one who had spoken of power, of hunger. Bateman wasn't interested in joining anyone, in working for someone else. He didn't need to. He had always been self-sufficient, had always relied on his own abilities to get what he wanted. But in this new world, where gods walked the earth and men with extraordinary abilities ruled cities, Bateman had to adapt. He had to become something more than just a man. He had to become a force that couldn't be ignored.
As he walked down the dimly lit hallway, his mind began to formulate a plan. A plan to carve his name into this new world, to make the people fear him—not just for what he had done, but for what he was capable of. There would be no more hiding behind the mask of normalcy. No more pretending to be the charming businessman, the perfect executive. That identity was gone, replaced by something far darker.
His steps quickened as his thoughts became more focused. He needed information. He needed to learn the rules of this world—the heroes, the villains, the power players. He needed to know who was a threat, who was prey, and who could be useful to him.
The world he had entered was filled with gods and monsters, with heroes and vigilantes who wielded unimaginable power. Yet, even among them, Bateman knew he could find his place. He wasn't bound by the morals that tied others down. He wasn't here to protect the weak or to stop the evil. He was here to dominate, to control, to kill. It was a world of chaos, and he would be its architect.
He entered a darkened room, the faint glow of a computer screen illuminating the walls. A desk sat in the center, papers scattered across it. The hum of machines filled the space, their gears turning in sync with the chaos in his mind. Bateman scanned the room, his eyes narrowing as he began to piece together the fragments of information he needed.
A set of files lay on the desk, each one marked with a symbol—a strange, unfamiliar insignia. It was a mercenary group, Bateman realized. A group that specialized in contracts targeting high-profile figures, both heroes and villains. They were merciless, efficient, and exactly the type of people Bateman needed to associate with. They could help him navigate this world, give him the means to find and kill anyone who got in his way.
Bateman smiled, his teeth gleaming in the low light. It was time to make his first move. His fingers flew across the keyboard, hacking into the system, pulling up information on the mercenary group. The faces of the individuals were flashed before him, each one more grotesque and dangerous than the last. Yet, none of them mattered. They were just pawns in his game.
He bookmarked the file, saving it for later. There was no rush. Bateman had all the time in the world. The next step would come soon enough. For now, he had a different target in mind—something more immediate.
As he walked out of the room, his eyes scanning the hallway, he noticed something that caught his attention. A pair of shadows moved in the distance, the sound of footsteps echoing in the quiet space. Bateman's heart—if it still existed—began to race. His instincts kicked in, sharpening every sense within him. He wasn't sure who they were yet, but they were close. Too close.
He moved without thinking, his body acting on its own. His muscles were wired for combat now, his reflexes honed to perfection. The shadows grew closer, and Bateman tensed, ready to strike. They weren't heroes or villains—just two ordinary men, but they had something he needed. Information. Power. Perhaps even the chance to test his new abilities.
He stepped into the shadows, his movements quiet, almost invisible. The men were talking, their voices low, unaware of the danger that lurked just behind them.
"I don't know, man. Voss wants us to keep an eye on the new guy. You think he's the real deal?" one of the men asked.
"Don't know. Don't care. We do what we're told. I hear he's got connections. We just need to make sure he stays in line."
Bateman's hand shot out, grabbing the first man by the throat. The second man barely had time to react before Bateman swung his arm, slamming the man into the wall with a sickening crunch. He felt the bones break under his hands, the sound of it sweet to his ears.
The man Bateman held in a chokehold struggled, his eyes wide with fear as he gasped for air. Bateman's grip tightened, his fingers digging into the man's neck until he felt the life drain out of him. With one swift motion, he snapped the man's neck, tossing the lifeless body aside like a ragdoll.
The second man, still dazed from the impact, tried to reach for a weapon, but Bateman was already on him. His movements were too fast, too precise. He grabbed the man's wrist, twisting it until it broke. The man screamed in pain, but Bateman silenced him with a single, brutal punch to the face. His body crumpled to the ground, unconscious and broken.
Bateman stood over them, his chest heaving with the thrill of the kill. This was just the beginning. These men had nothing to offer him, but they had been a test, a way to prove to himself that he was in control, that this world—this new life—was his to command.
He wiped the blood from his hands, his expression cold and distant. The world outside was vast, filled with opportunities and challenges. But for now, Bateman knew one thing for certain—he was ready. Ready to take what was his, to destroy anyone who stood in his way, and to build his empire from the blood of his enemies.