killer serial ???

The city was a jungle of steel and glass, where the powerful held sway and the weak were nothing more than prey. Bateman walked its streets like a ghost—unseen, unnoticed, yet always lurking in the shadows, watching, waiting. The people who filled the city were ignorant of the danger they walked past. The world around him had shifted, turned into something unrecognizable, yet the darkness within him was the same. The mask of Patrick Bateman was gone, replaced by something far more sinister. But now, it was time to take control of this new world.

His first move was deliberate. The name Voss echoed in his mind—he was the link to this new world, the mercenary faction that could give him the tools and the connections he needed. Bateman had no intention of simply joining the fold. He would rise to the top, using the very group that had tried to manipulate him as a stepping stone to greater power. He needed to make a name for himself, to instill fear in those who walked these streets, heroes or villains alike.

It didn't take long for Bateman to find the mercenary base, hidden in the deepest corner of the city, surrounded by dark alleys and guarded by men who wouldn't blink an eye before pulling a trigger. The building itself was a fortress, with steel walls, security cameras, and armed guards patrolling every entrance. Bateman smiled to himself. It was exactly what he expected. This was a place for those who had no morality, no limits. And he fit in perfectly.

The door to the headquarters opened with a faint hiss, sliding inward to reveal a cold, steel interior. A single overhead light illuminated a long hallway, its starkness unnerving in its simplicity. Bateman didn't need to wait long. From the shadows emerged the same man who had first spoken to him—Voss. His face was scarred, a map of past violence etched into his features, but there was a sharp intelligence in his eyes. He was a predator, too, just like Bateman.

"You made it," Voss said with a thin smile, the corners of his lips curling slightly upward. "I wasn't sure if you'd show. But I should've known you would."

"I don't waste time," Bateman replied, his voice cold, devoid of emotion. His eyes scanned the room, taking in every detail, every potential threat. "I'm here to do business. And I'm here to be in charge."

Voss raised an eyebrow. "You think you're ready? You've seen how things work around here. It's not a playground. We don't have room for mistakes."

Bateman smirked, his confidence unwavering. "I don't make mistakes. I fix problems. And if I'm going to survive in this world, I'll need a team that understands that."

Voss studied him for a moment, as if weighing his words. "You're ambitious. I like that. But it's not just ambition you need. It's skill. You think you can handle the kind of jobs we do? You've never killed someone like the people we deal with. I don't know if you're cut out for this."

Bateman didn't flinch. He was beyond such petty concerns. He was a predator. "Give me a target. I'll show you."

Voss grinned. "You want to make a name for yourself? Then let's see if you can handle it. There's a hero out there—low-tier, but still a threat. A man who thinks he's invincible. He goes by the name 'Talon.' He's a street-level hero, but he's been causing problems for some of our clients. A few hits on his head have already been placed, but no one has been able to take him down yet. If you can get the job done, we'll see what you're made of."

Bateman's heart—or whatever was left of it—thrummed with excitement. This was exactly the kind of challenge he thrived on. "Where do I find him?"

Voss handed him a dossier, filled with information about Talon. Bateman flicked through the pages quickly, absorbing the details. Talon was a vigilante with enhanced reflexes, impressive combat skills, and a nearly indestructible suit that made him difficult to kill. It didn't matter. Bateman was no stranger to obstacles. If anything, this would be the perfect test.

That night, Bateman followed Talon's movements, watching from the shadows as the hero patrolled the streets. His heart raced as he observed his target, his mind calculating every possible outcome. Talon was good, there was no doubt about that. But Bateman was better.

It didn't take long for Bateman to make his move. He used the cover of darkness to his advantage, slipping past Talon's heightened senses with ease. He was a shadow, a ghost in the night. With surgical precision, Bateman struck—taking the hero by surprise, slamming a blade into his side. Talon grunted in pain, his reflexes kicking in as he swung around, trying to block the blow. But Bateman was faster, more ruthless. He didn't give his opponent a chance to retaliate. He kept pressing the attack, driving the blade deeper into Talon's flesh, until the hero collapsed to the ground in a pool of his own blood.

It was over before it even began. Bateman stood over the broken body of his target, the thrill of the kill pumping through his veins. The blood on his hands felt like a victory, a reminder that he was a force to be reckoned with. No one would be able to stand in his way now.

The next day, Voss came to collect. He wasn't surprised. He knew Bateman had the capability to carry out the job, but even he couldn't help but admire the cold efficiency of the kill. "Impressive," Voss said, his voice laced with a strange sense of respect. "I didn't think you had it in you. But you proved me wrong."

Bateman's face remained emotionless. "I don't do this for approval," he replied. "I do this for power. I'm not here to be a pawn. I'm here to take control."

Voss nodded. "And that's exactly what you'll get if you keep proving yourself. But it's not just about killing. You've got to have the right allies, the right resources. You'll need weapons, technology, intel. We can get that for you. But you've got to keep delivering."

Bateman's mind was already racing. He was beginning to see the path laid out before him. He didn't need Voss. He could use this mercenary group, manipulate them, and eventually replace them. He didn't need anyone. He was a weapon. A force. And nothing would stand in his way.

"I'll take whatever you can give me," Bateman said coldly. "But I'll be the one calling the shots soon enough."

Voss studied him for a long moment, then smiled. "We'll see. But don't forget, Bateman. There are people in this world who can take down even the strongest. Heroes, villains, gods, monsters. And they won't hesitate to destroy you if you're not careful."

Bateman's eyes gleamed with an unsettling calm. "Let them try."