9. Home Insurance: "Alien Invasion Falls Under Exclusion Clause"

The Chitauri came. The Chitauri left. They left behind Loki, the mastermind of this alien invasion, along with many Chitauri soldiers who had failed to evacuate in time, and departed in disgrace, leaving New York City in shambles.

The good news: Loki had been captured, and the Chitauri soldiers remaining on Earth had effectively been paralyzed, as if their power had been cut, the moment they lost contact with their home base. When the spatial wormhole finally closed, the Chitauri soldiers still ravaging the skies above New York instantly lost power and plummeted to the ground, falling like dumplings. Clearly, Earth had ultimately emerged victorious in this sudden alien invasion and defense of the planet.

The bad news: New York City was severely damaged, with the five blocks surrounding Stark Tower suffering the most. After all, that was the main battlefield; it had been virtually leveled. Other parts of Manhattan sustained less damage, though that is only by comparison to the main battlefield; compared to the rest of New York City, the damage was still quite significant. Then there were the other boroughs of the city.

However, there was one exception.

"In Jackson Heights, Queens, there's a neighborhood that was practically razed to the ground by the Chitauri."

"What?"

Aboard the Helicarrier, Commander Maria Hill, dressed in combat gear, pulled up satellite imagery of New York City. Her voice rang out through the headsets of the original Avengers, who were just then celebrating the awakening of Iron Man. "It’s strange. Of the entire Queens borough, only that block in Jackson Heights suffered a concentrated bombardment by the Chitauri. According to data streams, those Chitauri ravaging Queens seemed incredibly enraged, and then they all converged on that area."

The original Avengers, still located at the main battlefield, exchanged bewildered glances as they heard Commander Hill’s words over their headsets. Finally, Captain America spoke up.

"Why?"

"Unclear. Agents are already on their way." Maria Hill replied, before shifting the subject. "All Chitauri life signs have vanished. Congratulations, Captain, we won."

At these words, the original Avengers collectively sighed in relief, looking at one another. Moments later, expressions of joy broke out across their faces.

That night, not just the news stations in New York, but across the nation and even the world, were reporting on the Chitauri invasion of Earth. Without a doubt, the original Avengers—who had been active on the main battlefield and served as the primary force in the war—were officially exposed to the public. Captain America, Steve Rogers. Iron Man, Tony Stark. Thor. Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff. The Hulk, Bruce Banner. Hawkeye, Clint Barton.

Serious news programs reported the details of the war, while the less serious ones broadcasted gossip and wild rumors about the various Avengers. Among them, the most popular was naturally Captain America, Steve Rogers, whose death and resurrection had been confirmed; he had reappeared after years of disappearance, looking exactly the same as before. After all, Captain America was the symbol of America in this world, and his popularity was already immense. Now, with the spectacle of his return from the dead, his celebrity status had exploded.

Take now, for instance. Hawk was eating a relief meal distributed by church personnel while watching wild rumors about Captain America on an old eighteen-inch television nearby. There was no help for it; his apartment building had been reduced to a pile of rubble. And not just him—strictly speaking, every resident in his block was now homeless. Because, half an hour after the war ended, their street had been cordoned off by a group of men in black suits and black ties. Some citizens who wanted to go back to see if they could salvage any of their belongings from the ruins were not allowed. The answer given was that it was under federal martial law and entry was prohibited.

Fortunately, the agencies enforcing the cordon, considering their homelessness, had found an unused hangar at LaGuardia Airport to serve as a temporary shelter, while also coordinating with local churches to provide free food to help them through the crisis.

But... just as Hawk was gnawing on his bread and listening to the rumors about Captain America, the sound of sobbing came from beside him. Hawk snapped out of his thoughts and turned to look.

A man of about thirty-five, thick-set and burly, was sitting with his arms wrapped around himself, his head buried between his knees. His crying had started as a whimper, but soon escalated into a wail. A fellow survivor nearby couldn't help but ask out of curiosity, "What's wrong with you?"

"My house is gone."

"It's okay," the survivor said, thinking something terrible had happened to the man, only to offer comfort upon hearing this: "We have insurance, don't worry."

If he hadn't said that, it might have been fine, but upon hearing those words, the crying man sobbed even harder. This left the survivor completely at a loss.

"What now? Did you not buy insurance?"

"No, I did."

"Then..."

"I just called the insurance company," the crying man sobbed, looking at the survivor who had tried to comfort him. "They told me that alien invasions fall under the 'force majeure' clause and are not covered by their policy."

The expression on the survivor's face froze.

"What?"

"Exempt?"

"No way."

"How can the insurance company not pay?"

"This won't do, I need to call them right now."

Other survivors nearby, who had been listening to the conversation, couldn't sit still either. They scrambled to find their phones to call their own home insurance providers. About a minute later, a second voice began to sob. Then a third. A fourth. In the blink of an eye, the entire hangar was filled with the sounds of people weeping at the prospect of becoming homeless.

Hawk, nearly surrounded by the wailing, felt a lump in his own throat at the thought of his lost apartment and the lack of insurance coverage. But then, he quickly snapped back to reality.

Wait a minute. His apartment was a welfare unit provided by the federal government, and they were going to take it back next year when he turned eighteen. That was the only reason Hawk had been scrimping and saving to scrape together thirty thousand dollars. Because after he turned eighteen, the federal government would kick him out of the welfare apartment in the name of "independence." After all, at eighteen, one was legally an adult in New York State and no longer entitled to the treatment afforded to minor orphans.

What? You have no money to rent a place? Sorry, that’s not our problem. There are plenty of homeless people under the bridges and in the sewers of New York City; you could try asking them if they mind making a little room.

So... I don't even have a house, and if insurance won't pay, what does that have to do with me?

Hawk gathered his thoughts, looked at the survivors whose expressions had turned somewhat ferocious amidst their sobbing, and, seemingly realizing something, quietly stood up and walked toward the exit of the hangar. He was afraid a gunfight might break out in there soon.