Work Text:
Dr. Jeremiah Cimmerian had made eight emails, five phone calls, two letters, and now, an unsavory trip to the waiting room to try to get his insurance company to respond. It had been an unfortunate series of days, from a tree falling on his car, to an aggressive lightning strike that fried his electronics followed by a ridiculous amount of fish raining down from above, pelting his whole yard in the horrible pungent odor of regret and sushi that could outdo gas stations.
After the Masquerade broke, he had seen his previous insurance company rebrand, transforming into a company dedicated to covering various acts of anomalous attacks and damages, ranging from Type Green warping, to teleported related incidents. He had trust in the company, spending years before entering the Foundation dedicated to maintaining his policy to them.
The Foundation’s coverage for insurance was impeccable, having multiple examples of its extravagant insurance at the hands of Dr. Gerald’s clumsiness, combined with its protections in regard to Dr. Kondraki’s intense recklessness. Though Cimmerian had felt that above all, his long term trust with his insurance, would stand above the rumors of others. His experience being the end all be all of conversations.
Dr. Cimmerian still, stubbornly, stood by his statement as he began to internally mull over what various internal arguments he would have to face. Of course, as these arguments, with any other person, would most likely mean that the ideas he pulled in his head were in fact, unrealistic expectations of how the social situation would play out.
He made sure to arrive early in the morning, hoping that his resolve with insurance would be over with quickly, though the air had been thick with impatience and frustration.
Hours passed, and Dr. Cimmerian’s patience began to wear thin. Near the end he glanced at the watch repeatedly, minutes turning to hours and hours into eons, it was almost anomalous to see how the room was seemingly stuck in a purgatory of waiting.
It was not until the sun started its descent across the horizon that a tired assistant called out to him. Hopeful, he rose from his seat, though his legs were mildly stiff. Once the assistant approached, he followed through a maze of cubicles until finally reaching an office.
Cimmerian sat firmly, once more, into his seat as the woman motioned for him, before starting to fill in her information on the computer. Cimmerian recalled the events to her, his voice almost clamoring as he recalled the problem.
The assistant smiled faintly, before pausing. “I’m sorry to inform you, Mr. Cimmerian, while the story is rather extraordinary, we don’t cover this in your plan.”
Cimmerian’s face fell, the features of his face etched into a shape of disappointment. “This wasn’t my fault though! It was freak weather, so it had to be insured.”
She sighed, “Mr. Cimmerian. Our policies are specific about these types of damages. Any anomalous weather conditions surrounding marine life aren’t included. I’m sorry.”
Cimmerian slumped, the realization of the absurdity consuming him, “So what does that mean?”
“Well…” The woman nodded, her apology almost genuine.
“We don’t cover Acts of Cod.”