Words All The Way Down

Inspired by the following prompt: [WP] Everybody talks about the heroes and the lives they’ve saved, but nobody talks about the superhero insurance company dealing with the many, many, many damages the heroes have made to everything

Winds buffeted the sky scrappers of Metropolis. In his penthouse office, Ron tap-tap-tapped his fountain pen against his mahogany desk gazing blankly into the corner of the room. Slowly, his gaze focused on the man sitting across from him.

“You know this means we’re going to have to raise your rates again Superman.”

Rubble filled the surrounding lots, now made vacant after the most recent battle with Doomsday.

Superman assented, “Of course Ron, anything for the people of Metropolis.”

The ringing of the phone interrupted the conversation. Ron picked it up, held it to his ear, and answered.

“Hello Mr. Mayor…. Yes, yes, I’m speaking to him right now…. Alright I’ll pass it along.”

The phone settled into its holder with a click. Ron looked up at Superman sheepishly. “That was Mayor Luthor. Says we can’t insure you anymore.”

The chair creaked as Superman leaned back in to it. “I knew he would try this the second he got that law passed,” he said, resigned to his fate. “How can serve in the best interest of Metropolis if I’d be a criminal? I’d be no better than the villains I apprehend.”

With that silence filled the room. Only the muted noise of the gusts of wind outside the window broke. Then, Ron cleared his throat, “Well, technically, the Mayor said I couldn’t insure Superman anymore. He didn’t say anything about some other hero.”

Superman’s eyes narrowed, “What are you thinking?”

Ron leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “Well, let’s say you changed that S on your chest to an A and called yourself Awesomeman. I think I could get insurance for Awesomeman.”

Superman jolted to his feet, “I’ll be right back.” He quickly ran out the door, closed the door behind him, and flew away with a soft booming noise. Ron tap-tap-tapped his fountain pen against the base of the phone. A few minutes later, he heard the soft booming noise again. A knock sounded against the door.

Ron stopped tapping his pen, “Come in!”

The door opened to reveal a, previously unheard of, new super hero with a sparkly pink A duct taped to his chest. In a falsetto voice, the new hero said, “I’ve come to apply for my superhero insurance.”

The two stared at each other, the occasional car horn floating up from the street below to break the silence in the penthouse office.

Ron hopped into the role of a salesman, “Happy to help you! What’s your super hero name?”

He cleared his throat and looked around awkwardly, “Also, you don’t need to do the voice.”