Name: Menace
Characters: Gale Hawthorne, Madge Undersee. Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark. Original Characters.
Summary: There are two kinds of folk who sit around thinking about how to kill people. Psychopaths and mystery writers. I'm the kind that pays better.
Murder, Mystery. What is it about a hard-boiled detective, the femme fatale and the cold steel of a gun that keeps our bedside lamps burning into the wee hours of the morning?
The music plays loudly, the bass almost strong enough that the lyrics couldn't be made out as she walks along the outgoing lines of people, her felt pen in her cramping hand as she signs the open pages while she walks, trying to get as many signed as she can. The echo of her publicist voice ringing through her head, telling her to keep the people happy. Her smile is as genuine as she can make it with the lights flashing in her eyes. It's like this for a half hour as she walks to the host building.
When she does finally get inside, it's not much better. People are all over her, asking her to sign whatever is in reach. And if there's no paper, well then their skin is a wonderful canvas. She doesn't get a break for an hour, and when she does, it's straight to the bar.
"Hey, hot stuff," the voice of the brunette rings in her ear, and the writer's face perks up at the sight of her friend.
"Hey, Mara." She greets before looking at the man behind the counter and ordering her normal drink. "Enjoying my party?"
"Oh, you know kinda boring." Mara jokes and when she's about to continue, she catches sight of the blonde checking her phone. "Madge, do you check that thing every twenty minutes or something? I swear, whenever you have a second of down time you're on that thing."
Madge chuckles, shaking her head before thanking the bartender when he slides her drink over to her. "What can I say, I'm a girl who loves her technology."
"This party is for you though, to celebrate your awesome book! The one that's supposedly keeping readers on the edge of their chairs, sleepless nights until they finish it only to have their hearts ripped out of their chest at the protagonist's fate. Don't you want to celebrate it with your adoring fans?
She takes a sip of the sparkling drink, leaning her side against the counter. Setting her glass down, her lips pop together with a shake of her head. "It's always the same kinda thing. I'm your biggest fan, you have the best ideas. You're so pretty! Your chest look awesome , here, have my number." A sigh escapes her lips. "Sometimes... Sometimes I just want someone to come up to me and actually talk to me about my books, I want to have an in depth and genuine conversation about what I've written, you know, the back story of the characters or why they're behaving as I do. Maybe even talk about the freaking circus that's coming in next month, God, I just want something new. "
Her gaze drops from the brunette next to her to the counter top as she turns, using the counter as a support to get the weight, which she'd been carrying all day on three-inch heels, off of her legs. Her hair falls from behind her head, framing her face as it hangs above her shoulders.
"Madge Undersee." She hears a cold voice say over all the music and surrounding conversation. She mentally sighs, not wanting to deal with someone who simply wants a signature or picture, something to show off that they actually met her.
But she puts on a fake smile, the one she's mastered so well.
"That's me." She looks up as she speaks, the short layers of her hair tickling along her cheekbones as she does. Her bright eyes meet with his dark ones, he doesn't look pleased or excited. She'd thought that the cold voice was an attempt to remain cool in front of his favorite author, but she had been proven wrong by the dark haired man standing in front of her.
"I'm Detective Gale Hawthorne, I need to ask you a few questions. Do you have a minute?"
"Well," Mara says, leaning over and grabbing the pen that Madge had. "I mean, he's not talking about the circus, but it's definitely something new."
There's a soft chortle in response, and the blonde straightens her stance.
"I'm in the middle of a book release party, surrounded by crazy fans." She licks her top lip, a devious smile forming on her face. "I'll do anything to get away from this." And with a soft chuckle, she grabs the small clutch sitting next to her glass. "As long as we can keep this sort of meeting out of the public knowledge, my publicist would skin me alive if she finds out that I'm being questioned by cops."
When he walks in the room, her legs are crossed at the ankles. Her blonde hair is brushed messily over her right shoulder as she traces circles on the metal table with her left hand. Her face is plain, no emotion.
"Alright, Ms. Undersee." He says as he walks in, a co-worker following closely behind him. They sit across from her, and she relaxes in her chair slightly. "As I've said before, I'm Detective Hawthorne with the homicide department, this is.."
She cuts him off, sitting straight, the look of confusion pulling on her face. "Wait, homicide? As in, investigating people who have been killed and trying to find who killed them?"
"Yes, exactly. Now, this is Detective Jones. We have a few questions to ask you. First," He slides a picture across the table. A young man, slick black hair and a clean shave. He's wearing a simple black suit, but it's complimented with a red bow-tie.
"Do you know him?" The detective, Jones, asks her in a tender voice. "You know, did you meet him at a party, book signing, go to college with him or anything like that?"
"Detective, I meet a lot of people. It's possible that I've met him, but we don't know each other. He's not my best friend and we don't go singing show-tunes through Central Park in the summer time."
Hawthrone purses his lips together, sliding another picture, this one of a blonde girl, across the table. "What about this girl? Jessalyn Tisdale, she's a lawyer. Ever deal with her?"
She exhales visibly, flipping her hair out of her face. "Nope. Detectives, what is this about, really."
Jones answers the tough questions, that's how it is when he follows others into interrogations. He's nicer, more in-tune with others feelings. "We found Miss Tisdale earlier this evening, laying out on her bed, peacefully, with a bouquet of flowers. Last week we found Mr. Jameson laying in a pool of blood. Animal, blood."
She raises her brow, mouth opened slightly as she tries to think of a response. She stumbles over several words before finally forming a sentence. "From my books?" She chuckles, and he assumes that the weirdness of the situation has gotten to her head when she follows up. "Guess I have a fan."
"Yeah," Hawthorne replies with a slight scoff. "A really insane fan."
She gives him a curious look, shaking her head slightly. "You mean you?"
"What?"
Her lips are pursed together in reply. "Come on, no one would have made the connection between Tisdale and blood-man if they hadn't read my books. Especially with blood-man, that book barely sold any."
Jones changes the topic back from the shift. "You get fan letters, right?" She nods. "Any of them from deranged fans?"
Once again, she sighs, leaning forward against the table. "Detective Jones, all my fans are, therefore, all my fan mail matches."
Hawthorne stands, preparing to end this no-where conversation. "Okay, so you wouldn't care if we read your mail?"
"Knock yourself out." She relaxes back into her chair and Hawthorne moves towards the door. Pulling it open, and as he prepares to step out, she hears her call back to him. "But let me know if any cute guys send their pictures."
Jones comes out shortly after. "Well, that was less than helpful." He says, walking over to their board.
"Yeah." Hawthorne give his usual short reply, his face tight as he studies the white board, in desperate need of a connection. "Get a hold of her publisher to get the mail down here. Try and keep her here in case the publisher tries to give us trouble, you never know with these people anymore."
[...]
"Hawthorne!" He jolts, balling his hands into a fist as he recovers from the startle. His gaze looks up towards Captain Abernathy and the author. "Miss Undersee has offered to help with the investigation, given the fact that she basically came up with these crime scenes she might be of some assistance. I take it won't be a problem?"
"No, Sir." Hawthorne replies, shaking his head.
Madge wears a smirk on her face as the captain walks away after giving a nod of acceptance. Wait until the guys get wind of this. She bites her bottom lip when the uniforms walk in, bins of envelopes in arms. She flips her line of sight back to the detective, giving her gentlest smile. "So, what first?"
"Well," He walks towards a room off to the side, next to the one where she'd had her 'interrogation', "Are you ready to see what some of your fans have to say?"
She groans; wishing that she'd be able to do something more exciting, some helpful. Like speeding through the streets with sirens blaring, or the even better interrogation of a suspect. Really get into the criminal mind, after all all of her research had been done on speculation. And this, this case where she has a copy cat? The perfect inspiration for a new novel.
She can see it on the store shelves now, the title something simple like "Copier". Okay, so it was a work in progress, but reading her fan-mail? She could have done that without getting into this investigation.
She follows the detective into the room, taking seat next to him and he tosses her a pair of gloves. Her eyebrow is raised and she doesn't even need to ask the question before he catches on.
"This is all potential evidence, can't have you mucking it up with your grimy hands."
She scoffs, shaking her head but pulling the gloves on nonetheless. And she dives in.
They sit, reading through the ever popular letters which she was sent. So far, they've all been to the effect of 'Oh, Madge! You have such wonderful stories, your plots are full and I want to write just like you some day'.
It's what seems like hours later when she looks up from the lined paper. "So, Detective. Why are you here?"
His face looks slightly annoyed, but he answers with "It's my job. Some of us have to work for a living, you know." He turns back to the paper, but continues. "Why are you here? You don't have any connection to these people besides the killer has taken your ideas. And obviously you aren't the least bit upset by that."
She shrugs. "I'm curious. Curious to know the story, why'd they choose my books to copy and the people who they killed, I want to know why. But you being here, it doesn't make much sense. You don't look like the cop type. You look like you'd be a better lawyer or maybe a barista. Not a cop."
"A barista?"
She shrugs, "I'm just trying to make my point. You don't look like the kind of person who would be a cop. Wanna know what I think?" The paper in her hands has since found its way to the table, and she leans forward and continues, without giving him room to actually answer the question. "I think that something happened. Maybe not to you, but someone close to you. And now, you've taken up this profession to get justice for them."
There's a pregnant pause before she leans back into her chair, grabbing the letter and resuming reading.
"Neat trick," he counters. "But you don't know me."
I had a dream last night where Gale and Madge were Castle and Beckett, and that lead to me writing this out. This chapter is basically the pilot episode of Castle, but once we get past that (I can't think of any other way for the two of them to get into partnership with each other), it'll take a different turn, one unique to Gale and Madge. Basically, if you can't tell, Gale is Beckett and Madge is Castle. (I was originally going to have that switched, but I decided that since we don't know much about Madge from canon, that she'd be more like Castle and Gale Beckett. Despite the obvious differences. Like body parts)
Katniss and Peeta will come in the next chapter. If there are any Castle fans out there I'd love to hear who you think they're gonna be in a review? Or even what you think of the idea.