Beyond the Limit (DC)

Joseph kept walking on the cracked pavement of Gotham's night streets. The scene he had just witnessed kept replaying in his mind like a movie he couldn't pause. Selina. Bruce. Both of them. Together.

Who the hell exactly was Bruce Wayne?

On paper, Bruce was Gotham's golden son—the billionaire playboy philanthropist who'd inherited Wayne Enterprises after the tragic death of his parents. The tabloids painted him as an eccentric socialite who threw extravagant galas, rubbed elbows with the elite, and dated half the models on the Eastern Seaboard. But beneath the headlines was something harder to ignore: his philanthropic work.

Wayne poured millions into Gotham's renewal programs, funded hospitals, orphanages, and shelters in East End, and bankrolled dozens of charities that kept the city's underprivileged fed and clothed. The Wayne Foundation's scholarships had pulled countless kids out of the cycle of poverty. He'd renovated crime-ridden neighborhoods, invested in public housing, and provided jobs through WayneTech's community programs. To the average Gothamite, Bruce Wayne wasn't just a rich man—he was the rare kind of rich man who actually gave back.

And yet… that wasn't the whole truth.

Because Bruce Wayne was also Batman.

Joseph had always thought of Batman as part urban myth, part living weapon. For years, the Bat had been Gotham's whispered guardian—a shadow you never saw coming until it was too late. A few years back, that changed when Batman stepped into the public eye as a member of the Justice League. No more whispers. No more doubts. The world saw him for what he was: possibly the greatest detective alive and one of the most formidable hand-to-hand combatants in existence.

Joseph had read enough League files to see the man's track record. Batman had dismantled criminal empires, stopped terrorist plots before they could leave the planning stage, and outmaneuvered foes with powers that should've crushed a human instantly. He'd thwarted world-ending threats without firing a single shot. Every move calculated, every angle covered.

And now Joseph was trying to reconcile that man with the guy he'd just seen in Selina's apartment, scars on his skin and a batsuit on the floor.

A billionaire playboy… and a grim martial artist who struck fear into the hearts of the worst criminals on Earth.

It was weird.

Then another thought hit him. 'Wait… was this how he found out who I was?' Joseph had never been sloppy with his identity in his opinion. And he didn't think Selina would just casually hand that information over—she wasn't that kind of person. But if Batman was Bruce Wayne… well, he had the resources to find out on his own.

Not that it really mattered now. He knew Batman's identity. Batman knew his. That made them… what? Even?

Joseph shoved the thought aside. The image in his head wasn't going anywhere, unfortunately. He reminded himself they were both adults, free to do whatever consenting adults did. It was normal. Totally normal.

Didn't mean he'd be able to look at either of them the same way for a while.

His train of thought broke as he crossed back into East End, the atmosphere shifting around him. Here, the streets weren't just grim—they were desperate. Graffiti coated the walls in thick layers of rebellion and resignation. Rusted fire escapes clung to brick like skeletal remains. Every shadow looked like it was waiting for an excuse to reach out and grab you.

A sudden jolt knocked him out of his head as someone bumped into him—a kid, maybe six years younger than him. The impact was nothing to Joseph—his Nth-metal body barely registered it—but the boy stumbled back, wide-eyed.

"My bad," the kid muttered, trying to keep moving toward a nearby corner.

Before he could vanish, Joseph's hand clamped down on his shoulder. The boy froze instantly.

"I was just lamenting the curse of having such a good memory," Joseph said evenly, "but sometimes it comes in handy. I already gave you a pass last time and let you go. I don't do second chances, kid."

The smile he gave wasn't warm—it was the kind of smile that told you running wasn't going to work.

**

"Forty-nine… fifty!" The boy's arms gave out as he collapsed onto the filthy alley floor, panting hard.

Joseph leaned against the brick wall, arms crossed, watching.

The deal had been simple: 50 push-ups for the 50 dollars the kid had just tried to swipe from his pocket. The kid had made a few escape attempts, but there was no outrunning Joseph. Eventually, he'd accepted his fate and dropped down to start counting.

Truthfully, Joseph had planned to let him go whether he hit fifty or not. The point wasn't punishment—it was lesson. East End wasn't kind to pickpockets. You tried the wrong mark, you ended up in the hospital… or worse.

He was surprised the kid was still in one piece if he'd been stealing since all those months ago when he'd taken a hundred dollars out of Joseph's pockets.

Still, Joseph couldn't help but be surprised when the boy actually finished all fifty.

"I did it. You happy now? Can you let me go?" the boy said between ragged breaths, flopping onto his back.

Joseph stepped forward and offered a hand. "What's your name, kid?"

"Peter Gunn," the boy said, swatting his hand away and standing up on his own.

Joseph smirked. "I know you're lying, but that's smart. Don't give strangers your real name. I'm serious though—don't steal anymore. The streets are dangerous for kids like you. Stay in school."

"You can't tell me that," the boy snapped. "A teen like you walking around with 50s and 100s in Gotham? I know you sell drugs." His voice cracked with anger. "I dropped out already. There's no future for street kids like me. The system's broken, so I'm gonna do what I have to."

That hit Joseph harder than he expected. A fifth grader already convinced he had no future.

Joseph sighed, raising his hand again—not to hit, but to rest it gently on the boy's shoulder. The kid still flinched.

"I'm not a drug dealer," Joseph said. "I hate those guys. I run a software company—Bell Studios. Ever heard of PikPok, Mycraft, RobLux, Sweet Smash?"

The boy's eyes widened slightly despite himself.

"That's me," Joseph continued. "I'm rich. If you need cash, I can help you earn it. We could use some video game testers. Call the number on our site if you want the job."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out another $50. "And here. You seem like a smart kid. Don't spend it on bad stuff. Just… don't steal again."

With that, Joseph turned and started walking out of the alley, mentally checking off his good deed for the day. He'd immediately start his plans to expand Bell Studios.

The weight of Gotham's night settled around him as he left the alley.