Bateman had risen to power quickly, leaving a trail of destruction behind him. His name had become synonymous with fear, a shadow in the night that no one dared to cross. Yet, in the world of chaos and violence, a storm was brewing—one that would challenge everything Bateman had built. He had fought and killed countless enemies, but none of them had been a real threat. None had the strength, will, or resolve to match his own. Until now.
The first true hero to come after him was a man known as Steelheart—a hero whose reputation was not built on flashy powers or over-the-top abilities, but sheer strength of will. He was a man who fought for justice, who believed in the protection of the innocent, even at the cost of his own life. His body was a machine, forged from the finest metals and reinforced with powerful alloys that made him nearly indestructible. Bateman knew that Steelheart would be different from the others he had slaughtered. This time, it wasn't just about power. It was about something deeper—something that Bateman had never truly understood: heroism.
It was a cold, rainy night when Bateman first crossed paths with Steelheart. The streets of the city were empty, save for the occasional car passing through the mist. Bateman stood on a rooftop, surveying the city below. His mind was focused on his next move, the next kill, when the sound of footsteps interrupted his thoughts. Someone was watching him.
Bateman turned, his eyes narrowing as he saw the silhouette standing in the shadows. Steelheart emerged from the darkness, his metallic body gleaming in the dim light, his posture upright and confident. He was a giant, towering over Bateman, his armor a symbol of justice and strength. His face was obscured by a helmet, but Bateman could feel the weight of his gaze, even from a distance.
"You've killed many," Steelheart's voice was deep, like thunder rolling through the sky. "But you haven't yet killed a hero. You've been causing chaos for too long. Your reign ends tonight, Bateman."
Bateman smirked, stepping forward with an air of confidence. He had heard the rumors about Steelheart, about how he was unstoppable. But Bateman didn't believe in limits. "You're nothing but a pawn, a puppet pretending to be a hero," Bateman sneered. "I'm the one who controls this city. You're just a fool who thinks he can stop me."
Steelheart's eyes burned with determination. "You're wrong. I'm not here to stop you because I think I can. I'm here to stop you because you need to be stopped. What you're doing is wrong. The world doesn't need more monsters like you."
The words stung, more than Bateman cared to admit. For a fleeting moment, he thought about the man he had been—before all this bloodshed, before the world had twisted him into a monster. But those thoughts vanished as quickly as they had come. He was past that now. And Steelheart would be no different from the others who had tried and failed to stand against him.
"You talk a big game, but talk is cheap," Bateman growled, drawing one of his swords, its edge glinting in the dim light. "Let's see if you can back it up."
Without another word, Bateman lunged at Steelheart, his blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. Steelheart raised his arm in defense, his armor taking the brunt of the blow. The sword hit with a deafening clang, but it didn't pierce the thick metal plating. Bateman gritted his teeth in frustration, but he didn't falter. He adjusted his stance and attacked again, slashing with all his might.
Steelheart's movements were fluid and calculated, his armor amplifying his strength and speed. With a powerful swing, he knocked Bateman back, sending him crashing into a nearby wall. Bateman's head rang from the impact, but he quickly regained his footing, a twisted smile spreading across his face. This was the challenge he had been waiting for. This was a fight worth having.
"You're strong," Bateman admitted, his eyes burning with excitement. "I can see why people fear you. But strength alone won't be enough to stop me."
Steelheart didn't respond with words. Instead, he charged, using his enhanced strength to drive Bateman into the ground. Bateman twisted, narrowly avoiding the full force of the blow, and sprang back to his feet, his sword ready. The two of them circled each other, sizing each other up, waiting for the perfect opening.
The battle was brutal, a clash of titans as they exchanged blow after blow. Steelheart's punches landed with bone-shattering force, but Bateman was relentless, his superhuman strength matching the hero's blow for blow. The city around them seemed to tremble as they fought, the streets cracked from their impact. Bateman's sword slashed across Steelheart's armor, leaving deep gouges, but Steelheart's regenerative capabilities kept him in the fight.
For every strike Bateman landed, Steelheart retaliated with his own. There was no question about it—this was no mere fight. It was a battle of wills. Bateman's mind raced, calculating every move, but Steelheart's conviction was a force to be reckoned with. The hero fought not just for survival but for something Bateman could never understand—justice.
Bateman's breath came in heavy gasps, his muscles aching from the punishment. He wasn't used to a fight lasting this long. He was used to ending things quickly, decisively. But Steelheart wasn't backing down. The longer the battle wore on, the more Bateman began to question himself, to wonder if this man—this hero—was truly as unstoppable as the rumors suggested.
But Bateman wasn't about to lose. His body was covered in blood, his clothes torn, but his resolve was ironclad. He would not let a hero of all people defeat him.
With a roar of fury, Bateman surged forward, his sword striking Steelheart's helmet. The blow was so powerful that it cracked the metal, sending a shockwave through the surrounding area. Steelheart staggered back, disoriented, but quickly recovered. In that moment of vulnerability, Bateman pressed his advantage, driving his blade toward Steelheart's heart.
Steelheart caught the blade with both hands, his fingers wrapped around it like a vice, but Bateman wasn't finished. With a surge of strength, he yanked the sword free, spinning around to deliver another lethal blow. The hero staggered back, raising his arm in a last-ditch effort to block.
But the blow never came. Instead, there was a sudden explosion from above, and both combatants were thrown to the ground. Bateman's vision blurred as the shockwave rattled his senses. He had no idea where the explosion had come from, but one thing was certain—this battle was far from over.
As the dust settled, Bateman and Steelheart found themselves on opposite sides of the battlefield, both bloodied and bruised but still standing. In the distance, a figure approached—a new player in this dangerous game. Someone had just made a move. And Bateman knew that this was only the beginning.
A new war was brewing. The heroes were starting to rise. And Bateman's world would soon be filled with enemies who were far stronger, smarter, and more dangerous than anyone he had faced before.
But Bateman was ready. Let them come.