Chapter Text
Karen was the star insurance agent at the district Bernardelli office before Meryl Stryfe came along, dragging her country bumpkin friend. Karen's calculations were impeccable, her work turned in early, her handwriting beautiful. She arrived early each day, with perfectly-natural-looking makeup, graceful in heels as she floated about the office balancing stacks of papers on her head. She made it all look easy.
At Bernardelli, she was among the few, the proud, the educated, so she was guaranteed the pick of the men. She wanted a handsome (but less attractive than she) provider who'd protect her from bandits, treat her like a queen, and never let her get her hands dirty, except in bed. The men she'd met thus far were...disappointing, but she hadn't given up hoping. She was young yet, and the cream would always rise to the top.
Meryl, on the other hand, was the scum that rose to the top of her mother's soup.
Karen had loathed the girl from the day she marched in looking like she owned the place, and Karen was asked to train her, She was everything Karen had been taught not to be -- loud, rude, short-haired, minimalist in grooming, flat-wearing, and focused on her work rather than those around her. Most aggravating, she didn't seem to know or care how much she failed at being a woman. Yet, she was soon outperforming Karen.
Karen redoubled her efforts at work. She'd been resting on her laurels. Yet, she had to take care not to look like she was trying to beat this inferior upstart.
And that giant oaf that followed Meryl around! The big girl should never have been hired in the first place. She was always late, and should have been fired for it long ago, yet she smiled cheerfully and accepted her all-too-light punishments as if they were rewards. She didn't seem to mind the ignominy of being the office's unofficial janitor. It was all she was capable of, anyway.
The girl couldn't hold a conversation about anything but pudding, the weather, raising tomas, and Meryl. Karen once held her nose (metaphorically, of course) and talked with Millie at lunch and at the vending machines when Meryl wasn't around. Under cover of making friends, she occasionally asked questions about Meryl, looking for a weakness. But the big girl never said anything negative about her friend, and Karen lost patience.
Bernardelli was going to the dogs.
She couldn't march up to her boss and scream, "What the hell are you thinking, letting them work here?!" But whenever she had a chance to talk to him, she hinted that they might not be doing their jobs well, their rudeness was annoying their coworkers, and maybe they should be transferred somewhere else?
Yet, for some reason, her boss liked the two of them, so he'd listen to Karen's complaints and never act on them.
Meryl Stryfe--almost a stage name. Eyes like violet storm clouds. White suit and boots somehow impeccable on a windy desert planet -- not an easy feat, Karen knew. Genuine Prada purse, designer sunglasses. Short but pristine nails. All that style, going to waste on a girl like that, who flung herself into danger and would always be a spinster.
Then, Meryl began being rewarded with the assignments no one else wanted. Karen's confidence returned: she was the only one smart enough to do her job just well enough to live the good life. If only her dates weren't so disappointing, compared to the knight in shining armor in her head.
Karen, ever kind and helpful to her coworkers, pushed for Meryl to get that prestigious assignment following Vash the Stampede. It was the perfect fit for her skill set and personality, Karen insisted.
She counted the days til Meryl and her oafish sidekick left town.
Ah. Peace and quiet. All attention fixed on Karen, where it belonged. It was good, yet somehow, not as delightful as she thought it would be.
There was no tension. No one there to challenge or compete with her. The office felt boring, and somehow empty.
Karen loathed that most of all.