Kapitel 11: Natasha
Natasha's Arrival
Clark had always been different. In his previous life, he'd possessed abilities that no one else could comprehend—strength beyond human limits, speed that outpaced even the fastest machines, and senses that could detect the smallest movement or the faintest whisper from miles away. But that world had shattered around him, leaving him with nothing but memories and scars.
Now, in this new world, his powers were... amplified. The strength he had once tried to contain felt more like a tidal wave crashing through him every time he exerted himself. His speed was now faster than anything he'd ever experienced—he could run so fast, he almost couldn't see the world around him. And his senses? Sharper than ever before. But with these gifts came the crushing weight of isolation. How could someone who could bend steel with his hands, who could move faster than the eye could follow, ever truly be normal?
And what if that was the only thing people saw when they looked at him—the powers, not the man?
Clark tried to bury these thoughts. He didn't want to dwell on them, especially now that he was trying to build something—anything—resembling a normal life. Working at the hardware store gave him a sense of purpose. The daily grind kept his mind occupied, even though the knowledge of what he was capable of was always in the back of his mind, lurking, waiting.
Today, though, was different. It wasn't just another day. Natasha walked into the store.
Clark's heart skipped a beat the moment he saw her. She was just... different. There was something about her presence that felt like gravity, pulling him in even though he had no idea why. He had seen plenty of beautiful women in his life, but Natasha was something else entirely. It wasn't just her beauty—it was the way she carried herself, the quiet strength in the way she moved. She didn't walk into the room; she owned it. And Clark couldn't look away.
He'd seen her around town a few times before, but this was the first time she'd entered the store. For a split second, his mind went blank, all the familiar nervousness of human interaction flaring up again. He wasn't used to feeling like this anymore—not since… well, not since before everything had changed. But Natasha's presence caught him off guard in a way he hadn't expected.
His muscles tensed the familiar, almost instinctual impulse to stay in control of his power flooding him. He had to keep it together. *Don't show any sign of weakness,* he thought. But it was hard. It was *so* hard. Every time she looked at him, it was like the air around him grew heavier, like his own abilities were suddenly so much more apparent. He had to remind himself: *She's just a person, like everyone else.*
"Hey, Clark," Natasha's voice broke through his thoughts. She was standing at the counter, smiling slightly, as if she knew she had his attention. "I need a few things—some bolts, screws, maybe a wrench. Think you can help?"
Clark nodded automatically, but his mind raced. He felt so much more self-conscious around her. How could he seem normal when he was this… *different? He had to stop overthinking. She wasn't here to judge him, right? She didn't know him. She didn't know what he could do.
"Of course," he said, his voice a little rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat and tried to keep his focus. "You can follow me."
As he led her to the aisles, he fought the urge to keep his hands from trembling. His skin felt *too* warm like his heightened senses were firing on all cylinders. He could hear the faint sound of her footsteps, almost too clear, like every tap of her shoes was amplified in his mind. He could feel the pulse of her heartbeat in the air, subtle but unmistakable. And when she brushed past him to grab a wrench from a shelf, the slightest touch sent a shock of electricity through his body. He clenched his jaw and forced himself not to react.
*Just get the job done, Clark
They walked through the aisles in silence for a moment, and for the first time in a long while, he felt the weight of his powers pressing down on him. The urge to do everything perfectly—to never make a mistake, to never show weakness—was suffocating. The smallest misstep could shatter something. He could break something. Or worse, someone.
"So, how long have you been working here?" Natasha asked casually, her voice drawing him back to the present.
"About a month," Clark replied, trying to keep his tone even. "It's... peaceful, I guess. I needed something to keep me busy."
"You've been moving around a lot, then?" she asked, glancing over at him, her green eyes searching his face. She tilted her head slightly as though studying him, and Clark felt exposed, like she could see right through him.
"Yeah," he said, a tightness in his chest. "A little. I'm still figuring things out."
He wasn't sure if she believed him, but she didn't press further, thankfully.
After a moment, she turned to look at him directly. "You know," Natasha said, her voice softer now, "I've always admired people who can keep their strength in check."
Clark froze, his breath catching. The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and for a split second, he wasn't sure if he could even breathe. It was too much. Too close to the heart of what he was struggling with. He didn't think he had ever been so aware of his own vulnerability.
The strength she was referring to—his *control*—it wasn't just physical. It was the fight inside him, the constant battle to keep his abilities from spiraling out of control. To keep from becoming a threat to everyone around him.
He forced himself to speak, though his voice came out lower than he'd intended. "It's… harder than it sounds."
Natasha's eyes softened ever so slightly, and Clark caught a glimpse of something—something in her expression that told him she understood, even if she didn't say a word. She didn't comment further, just quietly picked up the items she needed and moved toward the counter.
Clark's hands were shaking when he rang up her purchase. He had to slow his movements, afraid that if he didn't, he'd crush the small items with his touch. He could feel the weight of every decision, every action, under the surface. And with Natasha standing so close, he couldn't help but feel like the line between control and chaos was thinner than it had ever been.
"Thanks, she said, taking the bag from him, her fingers brushing his for the briefest of moments. It was enough to send a shockwave through him.
"Anytime, Clark managed to say, though the words felt weak, almost meaningless. The thought of letting her leave was difficult. But he *had* to let her go. People like him didn't get to keep people like her.
As Natasha turned and walked out of the store, Clark stood still for a moment, his heart racing, his head spinning. It was all too much. The powers, the danger of losing control, the pull he felt toward her, as if she was the only thing grounding him to the earth in a world where he felt completely untethered.
Maybe Natasha understood, maybe she didn't. But for now, all Clark could do was try to hold on hold on to the fleeting sense of normalcy, hold on to the connection he felt with her, even though it terrified him.
For once, he wasn't sure if it was his powers or his emotions that were the real threat.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein