Ben Watson always carefully plugged the address into his GPS when he went out to investigate a claim. Half the time he knew he was in the right place by the path of destruction, but still. No reason to take chances.
He double-checked the claim on his tablet, chewing an antacid to settle his stomach. Split-level craftsman bungalow, with a hole in the roof. The claim had been filed by one Joe West, listed as homeowner. Since there had been no reason given for the damage, Ben got sent out to investigate.
There were a lot of "no reasons given" for insurance claims that came through Country Limited Mutual Insurance these days.
He sighed and got out, locking his car behind him, taking a moment to rearrange his attache case and settle his phone in the outside pocket, where he could feel the buzz if his daughter texted him that she was getting a ride home from cheer practice, as she often did. If not, he had about forty-five minutes to spend here before he had to leave to pick her up.
Joe West was a slightly grizzled African-American man about ten years older than Ben. He shook his hand, offered a glass of water, and took it in stride when Ben turned it down.
"So, let's have a look."
West waved a hand upwards, as if to say, Look all you want.
It was a sizeable hole.
"So how did this happen?"
"Would you believe tree?"
Most of the foyer's ceiling was gone. The hole was almost too big for the tarp that West had spread over the roof. If it really had been a tree, it would have had to be a damned redwood.
There had been a storm on the night in question, but not strong enough to knock anything down. And of course, the total absence of a downed tree didn't help the story.
"No," he said.
West sighed. "What would you believe?"
"The truth, Mr. West."
"Detective," he said. "I work for the CCPD."
"Detective," Ben acknowledged. He wasn't overly impressed. Some of his craziest fraud cases had been otherwise upstanding citizens.
West sighed again and rubbed his hand over his hair. "The roof got ripped off by a fourteen foot talking shark man," he said. "Wearing pants."
Ben blinked. "Pants."
"Mhm."
"Huh."
"I know it sounds unlikely, but let me assure you, working for the police, I've seen so much unlikely shit in this city - "
"Mr. West, I work homeowner's insurance in this city. Trust me, I've heard a great deal. The … pants just threw me."
"My son couldn't quite get over them either."
Ben hummed to himself. "I have to get some measurements now. Pictures - you know how it is."
"Yep." West settled down in the living room, working on paperwork of some kind, as Ben did his due diligence, taking measurements and photographs. Ben appreciated that. So many homeowners hovered.
West, on the other hand, only looked up once, when Ben had been standing staring up at the destruction for five minutes and let out a little whistle without meaning to.
"Got what you need?" West asked.
Ben looked around at him. "I think so, yes. You had any contractors take a look yet?"
"Coming out tomorrow."
Ben opened a pocket on the side of his case and fished out a card. "Email me with the bids and I'll include them in my report."
West flicked the card against the tips of his fingers, eyeing him. "What else will your report say?"
"You have to understand," he said. "Country Limited Mutual Insurance is based in Minneapolis. All my reports go thorough there. They don't have metahumans in Minneapolis. That I know of. So I can't put fourteen-foot talking shark man in pants on my report. Even if I believe it."
West's shoulders relaxed. "But you do believe it."
"I told you, Mr. West. I work insurance in this town. I've seen a lot of strange things the past couple of years. But putting them down in black and white for headquarters - I'd lose my job. At the very least."
They stood peering up at the hole in the roof. The tarp heaved and rattled with every breeze.
"So, tree?" West said.
"Tree," Ben confirmed. "You'll get a check in - oh, I'd say a month or so."
"Not too bad as these things go."
"We do our best."
They shook hands and parted.
At his car, Ben paused and studied the tarp-covered roof again. He let his eyes go unfocused.
The sky darkened, clouded over, and a hazy shape formed over the house, roaring, toothy, ripping the roof open like a can of sardines, howling for the Flash.
Who appeared, of course. He generally appeared on a scene that Ben had to go investigate, raining destruction in every direction. Ben appreciated the heroism, but his workload had doubled since the Flash had come on the scene.
Just once, could he consider not destroying private property in his fights with supervillains? That would be nice.
Oh, well. Ben supposed that was one of the downsides of having your very own metropolitan hero. A little destruction and mayhem.
He took another look at the shark-man. He'd only been able to see the top half of him from inside the house, but now from a different vantage point, he could confirm -
Yep.
Pants.
He shook his head and blinked his vision back to the present. "Shark men," he muttered. "In pants. This city's getting weirder and weirder."
FINIS