Beyond the Limit [DC fanfic]

Black Spider was a petty guy.

And that Flux kid? He couldn't stand him.

Kicking back in a rundown hideout, Black Spider watched the news replay footage of Flux dragging some dumb kid out of a burning building amidst a report of the damages caused by Firefly. The reporters were praising the unidentified person who'd stepped up probably because they didn't know who he was. They wouldn't be slinging such praises if they knew he was a thief like him. Tsk.

His disdain wasn't personal—Flux hadn't even crossed paths with him. Yet.

It was the fact that he was too similar. The whole acrobatic, witty, wall-crawling schtick? That was his thing. Gotham didn't need a bootleg ripoff playing hero.

Lately, though, Black Spider had been considering going full-time in the assassination game. Some big organization had scouted him, and he figured it was time to test himself.

And he'd found the perfect target.

**

Joseph had to go bald.

The fire had torched his hair beyond saving, and now he had to endure the inevitable fate of every bald-headed boy in school. He didn't regret his spontaneous decision that night though.

"I like ya cut, G."

SMACK.

Joseph sighed as Andrew grinned and walked past him onto the bus. "Why y'all gotta keep doing me like this?"

"It's all love, bro," Andrew laughed. "Why'd you cut it off anyway?"

"Just trying to switch up my look."

"Man, this dude think he Michael Jordan!" Jackson hollered, sending the whole basketball team into a fit of laughter.

Joseph chuckled along with them. He enjoyed the banter.

"Not too much on me now," he said with a smirk. "With the way I've been hoopin', I could take Jordan eyes closed."

More laughter erupted, but Joseph wasn't joking this time.

The Gotham Gargoyles had made it to the state finals against the Mighty Mets—an absolute powerhouse of a team. Gotham hadn't beaten them in years. The game was being televised, local networks hyping it up as a classic underdog story.

Joseph had been a key part of their undefeated run, though he'd held back significantly. Some of his teammates were banking on basketball as their one shot at a future, and with scouts watching, he wanted them to shine. He played a support role, using his skills to amplify theirs in subtle ways. The glue guy.

Now, for the first time, Joseph was leaving Gotham.

Selina had been very clear about him keeping his head down in Metropolis.

And he intended to.

The hours-long bus ride ended at the arena, and as the team stepped out, Joseph took in the sight of Metropolis. It was like stepping into another world.

Sunlight bathed the city in a warm glow—actual sunlight. Gotham rarely saw it, always buried under layers of smog and cloud cover. People here looked... happier. The streets were spotless, the skyline gleamed with towering structures of glass and steel. Everything felt alive, surreal, almost too good to be true.

This was a utopia compared to home.

CRASH.

Or so he thought.

A thunderous impact shook the street ahead. A body with chalk white skin slammed into the roof of a parked car some distance away, crumpling it like tin foil.

'You know what. I should go back to the hotel. That's enough Metropolis for me.'

**

The buzzer blared across the packed arena.

For a single breathless moment, time seemed to freeze.

Swish.

The ball sliced cleanly through the net, and then—

Chaos.

The gym erupted into a deafening roar as fans leapt to their feet, screaming and cheering. The scoreboard flickered for a moment before solidifying the final numbers: 143-141.

"And Jackson makes the shot! The Gotham Gargoyles have defeated the Mighty Mets on their home turf! Their first win against Metropolis in thirty-eight years! What a game!"

The announcer's voice was nearly drowned out by the pandemonium in the stands. Students, parents, and even rival players were shaking their heads in disbelief. No one had expected a high school basketball game to be this intense—this unforgettable.

Jackson stood frozen at the three-point line, hand still in the air. His heart hammered in his chest. His team had swarmed him, screaming, hugging, punching his arm, but all he could do was stare at the scoreboard, his mind struggling to catch up to reality.

They won.

They actually won.

His breath came in shaky bursts, hands still tingling from the shot.

He turned to look at Joseph.

Jackson had always known there was something different about him. The guy had shown insane skills during tryouts, but once the season started, he refused to take the lead. At first, Jackson thought Joseph just wasn't a competitive player. But now he knew better.

Joseph had been holding back.

The game had been slipping away from them until Joseph subbed in. And then, something changed. He wasn't dominating the court with flashy plays—no, it was subtler than that. He was always in the right place, guarding the right man, moving the ball at the perfect moment. The shots he took were few, but they counted. And the ones he didn't take? Those counted even more.

Jackson had doubted himself before that final shot. He had hesitated. But when Joseph passed him the ball, there was no hesitation in his eyes. Only confidence.

So Jackson had believed in himself the way Joseph believed in him. And he made the shot.

This wasn't just a win for the team—it was a turning point in his life. He was already in his last year of high school, and if basketball didn't work out, he would be stuck hustling, grinding for scraps like so many others before him after his parents sacrificed so much to pay for his tuition here. But now? The game had been broadcast across the country. Scouts were watching. Calls would be made. His future wasn't just a dream anymore—it was real. It was waiting for him.

He didn't know if the others saw it, but Jackson did. Joseph could've carried them himself. But instead, he made sure everyone shined.

**

The celebrations stretched for days. The school held rallies, teachers let assignments slide, and parties popped up wherever the team went. Gotham Academy had never seen a victory like this, and the students made sure to make the most of it.

Joseph let himself enjoy it—mostly.

One night, in the high-end restaurant the team had rented out for a private celebration, Jackson pulled Joseph aside, away from the noise.

"Thank you, Joseph. I know what you've been doing, and I owe you, bro. If you ever need anything, just holla at me."

Joseph grinned, bumping fists with him. "Aye, bro. C'mon, don't do that. We won as a team, Captain."

Jackson gave him a knowing look but let it slide. They rejoined the others, laughter and celebration carrying them through the night.