This is for an April Prompt for Gadge month- Promise
Sometimes, Madge catches glimpses her reflection. In the glass panes of the city and the shiny metal that is as common as the concrete under her feet. In the mirrors of the homes of the murderers she's hunting.
It's not something she's spent much time on, except to check that she passes muster as a Capitol Girl. That there's no sign of blood or ashes on her face.
It's as she's waiting for the last bomber, settled into a hotel room that is marked as empty for the night, that she finds the time to look, really look at herself.
Her face is bare, and she studies her features, looking for some sign of change. She still looks like her mother- a washed out golden girl, frail and uninteresting. A true Townie. There's something of her father in the shape of her eyes, and in the curve of her mouth- dozens of tiny little pieces that make her look like her mother, instead of her mother born again.
There should be a sign somehow. Of her death, of the things she's done and the total lack of regret for those things- but all she can see is herself. Good old Madge Undersee, same as always.
Grip flies to her shoulder, and Madge reaches up to pet the raven. She keeps watching her reflection, even as the ashes coat her skin.
"Hey there Grip." Madge quirks a smile. "Don't suppose you could do me a favour next time you fly between?"
The raven- the crow, the pyschopomp, her guide in this life and to the next- tilts his head. Considering, watching, waiting.
She wets her lips, out of memory for the nerves she should feel. "Tell them I only have a few more to go. That I'll be there soon. I promise."
Grip keeps watching and waiting- even as the target finally arrives in the secure hotel room next door, to wait in protective custody for her. Mells Redyna thinks that she is waiting for the peacekeepers to catch the killer- the murderer of all those poor men and women who were just following orders and doing their jobs when they lay waste to District Twelve.
Mells Redyna is a fool- but a sharp one. She's been the hardest to find of the grunts, not solely due to the Peacekeepers either. She'd been the one to realise what the 'victims' had in common. Self-preservation is truly a wondrous thing- but Madge is dead. She doesn't need to avoid the bullets, she just needs to get passed the gunmen to the woman they're guarding.
After Mells is dead, and her guards with her, Grip lets out a caw and nods decisively. He's agreed to her request- he'll pass on the message when he gets a chance. Madge smiles brightly at him, even as they make their escape and consider their next target.
There's not many left now.