Beyond the Limit [DC fanfic]

"Are you scared, Joey?"

Mary Bell squeezed her son's hand as they walked down the cold, sterile halls of the clinic. It felt more like a morgue than a hospital. The walls were stark white, almost like the inside of a freezer, reminding Joseph of Gotham's brutal winters.

Yet the chill he felt wasn't from the temperature. It was the lifeless stares of the nurses, the detached efficiency of the doctors as they passed by, indifferent to the sick and injured waiting in stiff plastic chairs.

The floors gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, but streaks of red stained the linoleum.

The sharp scent of blood lingered in the air.

People were dying here.

"No," Joseph said, though his voice wavered. "I'm not."

He hesitated. "Why are we here again?"

Mary gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "Your vaccines, remember?"

Right. He was eleven now. It was time for his Tdap, HPV, and MenACWY shots. Necessary, but no less unpleasant.

Instead of making him sit in the waiting room, Mary led him straight into a private office where a doctor stood reviewing his clipboard.

"Mary Bell, here with Joseph—"

"You're early," the doctor interrupted without looking up. He checked the clock and sighed. "Let's just get this over with. What was it again?"

"Just the vaccines," Mary said curtly.

The doctor flipped a page. "My receptionist mentioned an experimental treatment. Have you considered it?"

Mary's expression hardened. "No."

"You're sure?" The doctor gave her an odd look. "The compensation is—"

"No." Her voice was sharp now. "I didn't agree to any experimental treatments. Are we clear, doctor?"

The doctor rolled his eyes and set down the clipboard.

Joseph didn't like him. His mom had always warned him about people who pushed too hard when they didn't get what they wanted. This man gave off that exact feeling. And now he was supposed to trust him with his health?

"Mom," Joseph whispered.

"Let the man do his job," Mary reassured him with a soft smile.

Joseph sat down, still uneasy.

The doctor moved efficiently, preparing the needle with practiced indifference. The sting of the injection was sharp but brief, followed by a cold sensation spreading through his veins.

The doctor stepped back, already turning away. "That's it. You're done."

Joseph let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

**

Dr. Henry Benson was terrified.

LexCorp was breathing down his neck about his debts. It wasn't fair. He'd been laid off, blacklisted from Gotham General, and now they expected him to pay back the massive fines from his so-called contract violations.

He had spent everything just trying to survive, and now they had given him an ultimatum. The "experimental treatment."

A hundred volunteers. A thousand dollars each in compensation. But no one agreed.

So, he got creative.

By creative, he meant he didn't care about consent anymore.

He injected them anyway. Logged the data. Sent it to LexCorp's research division.

The nanites acted slowly, subtle at first. The patients made it home before symptoms began. Then came the fevers, the seizures. Some went mad. Others simply… stopped.

He didn't ask what LexCorp was testing. Didn't want to know.

All that mattered was that as long as he kept producing results, they would protect him.

For now.

Still, the thought lingered.

If LexCorp wanted him gone, would they even bother pulling the trigger?

Or would they just let him do it to himself first?

Dr. Benson poured himself another drink.

**

Joseph's mind was a whirlwind. Equations. Puzzles. Numbers.

He was running. Always running.

No matter how fast he solved them, it wasn't enough.

The thing chasing him—the thing waiting for him to fail—was always a step behind.

Faster.

Faster.

He couldn't let it catch him.

Then—

He woke up.

Gasping. Heart hammering.

Death. It was so close.

But no. Just a nightmare.

He was fine.

Joseph stumbled out of bed, breath still unsteady, and found his mom in the living room, staring at the TV. Her face was pale.

The news anchor's voice cut through the silence.

"…the doctor responsible is still at large, and the death toll continues to rise. Authorities urge anyone who visited the clinic in the last twenty-four hours to seek immediate medical attention, though it may already be too late."

Mary turned to him, her hands shaking as she pulled him into a tight hug.

"Joey, are you okay? How do you feel? Does anything hurt?"

Joseph blinked. "I—I feel fine."

Not entirely true. The nightmares hadn't stopped. But what could they do? They didn't have the money for another doctor. Mary worked herself to exhaustion as it was.

"Are you sure?" she asked, voice trembling. "You have to tell me if anything feels wrong."

Joseph hesitated. "What happens if it does?"

"Then we'll find someone. We'll—"

"Mom," he interrupted, "what's going on? Why are you so worried?"

For a moment, her expression cracked. The mask slipped. But she recovered quickly, forcing a weak smile.

"It's… it's nothing. Just promise me, Joey." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Promise me that if something feels wrong, you'll tell me."

A pang of unease settled deep in his chest. "You're scaring me."

She stroked his hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I'm sorry. Just promise me."

Joseph nodded.

But deep down, he already knew.

Something was wrong.

And the nightmares?

They weren't going to stop.

Ever.