#finally. the kanepost

[apradonite]

workplace christmas party

(surface lore under cut)

Back on the surface, Alexis Kane’s god-given name was Virginia Wulff – and instead of a lavish underwater penthouse, she lived in a dingy old studio in Jersey City. Going door-to-door and living paycheck-to-paycheck, her last place of employment was a location for a telephone production company, where she worked as one of their many smiling salesmen. It was as much of a road block as her other sales gigs were, but as the war came to an end and women were kicked out of the workforce in droves, there weren’t a whole lot of options. Selling overpriced rotaries to schmucks had to do.

Still, Wulff was always an ambitious woman, and even the jail cell of a dead-end job couldn't keep that locked in. She worked her ass off day and night, and eventually became one of the best salespeople in the company’s location. She won’t bring up the occasional tampered sales report or faking invoices with outside friends. It didn't matter how meager the achievement was in the grand scheme of things, just that she was the best at something for once.

McNamara worked in the office while Wulff was peddling in neighborhoods, so their interactions were minimal. Wulff knew her as more gentle and sweet compared to some of the others, but she never knew her much deeper than that. Never knew of any family, pets, or other friends she might’ve had. She saw her as a bit of a doormat then – hearing her regularly over-apologizing to customers that were obviously in the wrong – but she kept her mouth shut. McNamara didn’t have strong opinions on her either, but believed they had a generally cordial relationship. Unfortunately that was proven wrong in late 1947, when McNamara unexpectedly entered the office late at night while Kane was there “reworking” the numbers on another co-worker's report.

It was an accident; she didn’t mean to kill her. But she did mean to hit her over the head with a decorative vase during her panic.

She never checked her pulse. Not while she hauled the body and scraps of vase to her car, and not while she buried her in a shallow grave. Lying to the police was the easy part, but the Herculean task was managing the guilt months later. Admitting her murder wasn’t an option, but god knows she could only tell herself that she was just stepping on others to reach for the top so many times. She needed an out.

Her golden ticket was from accidentally eavesdropping on a couple of drunkards: An underwater utopia for people who want to escape from the economic and political perils of the surface. Somewhere a person could have a fresh start and others wouldn’t ask too many questions.

Wulff would’ve laughed at the idea in a normal situation. But a name change, a stolen recruitment letter, and a boat ride later, Alexis Kane left her baggage at the door to finally make a name for herself. Or did she?

[peccatula]

"i was less of a person then, i know. i was less of a bird then, too" UGHHHGHGGHHHHHHGGHHH??? pulling my hair out??? I SEE KANE IN EVERYTHING