Kapitel 15: The Confrontation
For the next few days, Clark kept his distance from Natasha. He didn't know how to act around her, not after what he had heard. The questions were eating away at him, gnawing at his thoughts every time he saw her, every time he heard her voice. He'd kept their interactions brief, answering her messages but never inviting her over, never letting things go back to what they were.
He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. And the worst part? He *knew* something was wrong. His super hearing hadn't failed him before, but now, the more he thought about it, the more the pieces didn't add up.
But maybe it was just him—maybe he was paranoid. Maybe he was overreacting. Natasha seemed perfect, but people had fooled him before. And this time, he had powers—*far too many* powers—and he didn't know how to use them in a world that was so different from his own.
He went about his days, trying to ignore the tension growing inside him. He worked his shifts at the hardware store, lived in his new apartment, and kept up the routine he had carved out for himself. But it wasn't enough to block the nagging voice in his mind.
Then, a few days later, Natasha showed up.
It was evening, and Clark was home, sitting on the couch with a glass of water in hand. The world outside his window was quiet, the air cool and still, but his thoughts were anything but. When the knock came at his door, his heart skipped a beat. He knew who it was before he even opened it.
He took a deep breath and went to answer.
"Hey," Natasha greeted him, a soft smile on her lips. But there was something about the way she stood there that felt off. Maybe it was the way her hands were clasped in front of her, or the way her eyes darted to the side like she was weighing something in her mind.
"Hey," Clark replied, forcing a smile. "What's up?"
Natasha stepped inside, glancing around his apartment. "I've been trying to reach you," she said, her tone light, but Clark could tell there was a heaviness in her voice. "You've been... distant."
He closed the door behind her, his eyes not leaving hers. "I've been busy," he said. The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, but it was the best he could do.
"Clark, I know something's wrong," she continued, taking a step toward him. "You've been avoiding me. You don't have to do that. If there's something you want to talk about—"
He couldn't take it anymore. The questions, the confusion, the hurt. All of it spilled out of him in a rush.
"I heard you, Natasha," he said, his voice low but firm. "I heard what you said. You *lied* to me."
Her expression faltered, but she quickly masked it with a gentle smile. "What are you talking about?"
Clark's heart hammered in his chest. His hearing was fine-tuned now—more powerful than ever before. And he had heard her on the phone, talking to someone, talking about him as if he were just another target. As if everything between them had been a game.
"*Don't lie to me,*" he growled, his eyes narrowing. He could hear her heartbeat increase—her nervousness, the way she was trying to mask her emotions from him. But she couldn't hide it. Not from him.
"Clark—" she started, but he cut her off.
"*Who are you?*" His voice wasn't just loud; it was filled with all the anger, confusion, and hurt he had been trying to hold in. His chest tightened with the weight of his emotions. The heat in his eyes began to glow, the red tint creeping into his irises.
Natasha's breath caught, and Clark saw her freeze. The smile that had been on her face vanished, replaced by a flicker of fear. She stepped back, her eyes wide, instinctively moving away from him.
It was enough. He could feel the tension in the air, the fight-or-flight response building in her. The sound of her breathing was shallow, uneven. Her heartbeat had sped up so much that even his superhuman senses couldn't ignore it. She was scared.
Clark took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. His eyes slowly faded from red back to their usual blue, but the anger was still simmering under the surface.
He took another step toward her, his voice quieter but no less intense. "I'm asking you again, Natasha. *Who are you?*"
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she looked away, guilt flickering in her eyes. For a moment, she seemed to hesitate, as if weighing the consequences of telling him the truth—or keeping the lie.
Then, she opened her mouth to speak, but Clark wasn't sure he was ready to hear what she would say.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein