Ravens Can't Get Life Insurance
by Krine Himitsu
It was just another day at the Old Isaac Insurance Agency for Bob Newmire. He was preparing to see another client, who was coming in for a quote. Bob was as plain a man as his first name implied, but this fellow hadn't signed his name on the letter; he'd only stamped an emblem of a hammer and a lightning bolt with a black T behind them. The man wasn't showing much promise; he was already 15 minutes late for his application.
Bob was just about to go out and get some Soy-Natural Appetite Cakes (SNACs) when, finally, a thin man with bright eyes in a suit and wearing a badge of a cracked red pool ball numbered 9 on his chest walked in. "Sorry I'm late," the man said. Bob raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess," started Bob, "traffic?" The man shook his head, and responded "Giant MT." "Oh," said Bob, in a daze. The man laughed. "Third time this month!" Bob recovered, and said politely, "I'm Bob Newmire. Please take a seat, mister...?" The man sat and said, "Thunder House." Bob's shoulders sagged as a look that said "What the hell?" swept over his face.
"Okay... mister Thunder House. What is it you do for a living?" Thunder House put his thumb and index finger on his chin thoughtfully, then responded, "Mostly demolitions." Bob relaxed; it was a fairly innocent answer. "...of a highly active nature," Thunder House finished. Bob massaged his forehead, as a pain had started growing there.
"I see," said Bob, "and how old are you, if you don't mind me asking?" Thunder House replied, "Oh... 27." "Mm hmm," Bob said, "and how much do you weigh?" Thunder House said, "I'd guess 145 pounds." Bob nodded, "Any health risks you feel I should know? Smoking, drinking, dangerous job...?" Thunder House responded, "Well, I don't drink, and I don't smoke unless it's been a really hard work-day, and... well, I wouldn't call my job Dangerous. I mean, I have a perfect work success rate."
Bob groaned silently. "I take it you work for many different people?" Thunder House nodded, and said, "I work freelance." "Please describe your last job to me, Thunder House," Bob continued. Thunder House thought hard, and responded, "Well... I had to go out to the desert. There was, apparently, a... well, dangerous structure that needed to be brought down before anyone got in its way and got hurt." "Excuse me, mister Thunder House," Bob interrupted, "but how can someone get in the way of a building?" "Er, uh..." Thunder House stumbled, "it had, um, very, ah, aggressive defense systems. Yeah." Bob rubbed his forehead, the dull pain had started to throb.
"Mister Thunder House," Bob began, "You wouldn't happen to own or operate an MT, would you?" Thunder House looked away, and muttered an "um..." "I'm also referring to MT's of a more aggressive sort, commonly called AC's, or Armored Cores," Bob continued. Thunder House started to sweat nervously, and uttered a "well..." "And most importantly, you wouldn't happen to belong to any fringe group of AC Pilots commonly referred to as the Raven's Nest, Nerves Concord, or Global Cortex, would you?" Bob asked sharply. Thunder House stuttered a bit before Bob said, "Because you know that Ravens can't GET life insurance. Or MT insurance. Or any other insurance. Don't you?"
Thunder House sat quietly for a moment, then shouted, "But I'm ranked 3rd in the Earth Arena! And I'm a Nine-Breaker! I'm as close to invincible as a Raven can possibly get! I've got a perfect Mission record for cryin' out loud! My AC has more armor than this whole building, and a gun so big that it could blow up the moon! Why can't I get insurance?! THIS IS THE FIFTH PLACE THAT'S TURNED ME DOWN!" Bob simply nodded and said, "I'm sorry mister Thunder House. Ravens simply are too big a risk. But if it makes you feel any better, when I had a car crash a couple years ago, my insurance dumped me and my credit record hasn't seen daylight since."
They sat in silence for a moment, then Thunder House said, "Y'know, if you do me a small favor, I could put them out of business in a very harsh way, Bob." Bob frowned, and scrawled onto the note pad he'd been writing on, and said, "This discussion never happened. Welcome to Old Isaac, Mister Thunder House." Thunder House smiled; not only did he now have life insurance, but he also had a great opportunity to blow up one of the four other insurance places that'd turned him down. "Now if only I could get a dog license," he thought...
by Krine Himitsu
It was just another day at the Old Isaac Insurance Agency for Bob Newmire. He was preparing to see another client, who was coming in for a quote. Bob was as plain a man as his first name implied, but this fellow hadn't signed his name on the letter; he'd only stamped an emblem of a hammer and a lightning bolt with a black T behind them. The man wasn't showing much promise; he was already 15 minutes late for his application.
Bob was just about to go out and get some Soy-Natural Appetite Cakes (SNACs) when, finally, a thin man with bright eyes in a suit and wearing a badge of a cracked red pool ball numbered 9 on his chest walked in. "Sorry I'm late," the man said. Bob raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess," started Bob, "traffic?" The man shook his head, and responded "Giant MT." "Oh," said Bob, in a daze. The man laughed. "Third time this month!" Bob recovered, and said politely, "I'm Bob Newmire. Please take a seat, mister...?" The man sat and said, "Thunder House." Bob's shoulders sagged as a look that said "What the hell?" swept over his face.
"Okay... mister Thunder House. What is it you do for a living?" Thunder House put his thumb and index finger on his chin thoughtfully, then responded, "Mostly demolitions." Bob relaxed; it was a fairly innocent answer. "...of a highly active nature," Thunder House finished. Bob massaged his forehead, as a pain had started growing there.
"I see," said Bob, "and how old are you, if you don't mind me asking?" Thunder House replied, "Oh... 27." "Mm hmm," Bob said, "and how much do you weigh?" Thunder House said, "I'd guess 145 pounds." Bob nodded, "Any health risks you feel I should know? Smoking, drinking, dangerous job...?" Thunder House responded, "Well, I don't drink, and I don't smoke unless it's been a really hard work-day, and... well, I wouldn't call my job Dangerous. I mean, I have a perfect work success rate."
Bob groaned silently. "I take it you work for many different people?" Thunder House nodded, and said, "I work freelance." "Please describe your last job to me, Thunder House," Bob continued. Thunder House thought hard, and responded, "Well... I had to go out to the desert. There was, apparently, a... well, dangerous structure that needed to be brought down before anyone got in its way and got hurt." "Excuse me, mister Thunder House," Bob interrupted, "but how can someone get in the way of a building?" "Er, uh..." Thunder House stumbled, "it had, um, very, ah, aggressive defense systems. Yeah." Bob rubbed his forehead, the dull pain had started to throb.
"Mister Thunder House," Bob began, "You wouldn't happen to own or operate an MT, would you?" Thunder House looked away, and muttered an "um..." "I'm also referring to MT's of a more aggressive sort, commonly called AC's, or Armored Cores," Bob continued. Thunder House started to sweat nervously, and uttered a "well..." "And most importantly, you wouldn't happen to belong to any fringe group of AC Pilots commonly referred to as the Raven's Nest, Nerves Concord, or Global Cortex, would you?" Bob asked sharply. Thunder House stuttered a bit before Bob said, "Because you know that Ravens can't GET life insurance. Or MT insurance. Or any other insurance. Don't you?"
Thunder House sat quietly for a moment, then shouted, "But I'm ranked 3rd in the Earth Arena! And I'm a Nine-Breaker! I'm as close to invincible as a Raven can possibly get! I've got a perfect Mission record for cryin' out loud! My AC has more armor than this whole building, and a gun so big that it could blow up the moon! Why can't I get insurance?! THIS IS THE FIFTH PLACE THAT'S TURNED ME DOWN!" Bob simply nodded and said, "I'm sorry mister Thunder House. Ravens simply are too big a risk. But if it makes you feel any better, when I had a car crash a couple years ago, my insurance dumped me and my credit record hasn't seen daylight since."
They sat in silence for a moment, then Thunder House said, "Y'know, if you do me a small favor, I could put them out of business in a very harsh way, Bob." Bob frowned, and scrawled onto the note pad he'd been writing on, and said, "This discussion never happened. Welcome to Old Isaac, Mister Thunder House." Thunder House smiled; not only did he now have life insurance, but he also had a great opportunity to blow up one of the four other insurance places that'd turned him down. "Now if only I could get a dog license," he thought...
