Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. They belong to Suzanne Collins.
Note: Fast as all heck update and the 500K milestone crossed! Woohoo! So, it occurs to me that Skinner may just be the most mysterious victor of those left. No prior mentions of major note, no early appearances like some of those yet to 'officially' debut and no appearances in other HG fics of mine. So, what is this guy's deal?! Well guys, I present to you Skinner Alecto, the ultimate mutt hunter whose only role in canon was to be a number and one who got torn apart by 'The Beast'. Lammy may have been a trapper, but that's more of a defensive profession. As for Skinner, he's not gonna lie in wait. He's gonna fight!
N.C.s 1 Fan, the sites are completely free, and I don't really accept help on my stories. I prefer to just write and see where it all takes me.
I reckon that's just about enough out of me. Hope ya'll enjoy the chapter!
"It felt like there were two Games being played that year," Peeta mused. "The normal Games between the other tributes and a second Games between Skinner and the mutts."
"Needless to say, he won both… ironic when you consider he didn't seem the care about the former," Katniss said, slightly bemused. "I think we got lucky we never saw him in the arena. I mean, he killed so many mutts and he wasn't in on any rebel plans, not even fragments of them. He could've attacked us."
Peeta nodded his uneasy agreement. "I guess we just got lucky… as usual. He didn't. The Beast got him."
"…Did you see him die?" Katniss asked, hesitant.
Peeta shook his head. "No. I just saw a glimpse of the monster approaching him. I didn't dare linger to see what happened next."
The two said nothing more. The moment of silence for Skinner had begun.
69th Annual Hunger Games
Name: Skinner Alecto
Gender: Male
District: 10
Age: 16
Kills: 2
THE HUNTER
There exists a rather disturbing fact in the nation of Panem, or at least one more disturbing than the norm at any rate.
Mutts can breed and sometimes explosively so.
Throughout the Dark Days the Capitol deployed numerous mutts as part of the effort to crush the rebellion. But they never ended up getting rid of the mutts that survived the war, of which there were quite a few. This wasn't just limited to tracker jacker nests left within the districts, but also mutts of a much more dangerous nature.
Some were small and could be handled easily enough if it were just one or two of them at once – Saturn Beetles and Pale Rodents – whereas others were of a far more dangerous sort of nature – Winged Death and Reapers – that put various district families at serious risk.
More risk than they were already in under Capitol rule anyway.
No district had more leftover mutts to live in fear of than District Ten. The wide open ranges of fields combined with the livestock serving as prey for the mutts made it the perfect habitat for them to breed and prosper.
It was quite the dreadful inconvenience.
However, there was one boy that has arisen to deal with the problem. In fact, he didn't just 'deal with it'. Skinner Alecto outright excelled at it. There are some things in life that some people are simply made for and hunting mutts was what Skinner was, bar none, the best at.
He could track them effortlessly, he knew all the hunting and fighting habits of each mutt he fought, he learnt new facts about the mutts at an incredibly fast rate, he was an expert at fighting them and barely taking a scratch… it was even rumoured that he knew how to cool the mutts and eat them for dinner!
Legend tells that several mutts – beings created to kill and to feel nothing but hatred – would flee in terror at the mere sight of Skinner walking by.
While many people knew of Skinner, nobody could claim to know much about him. He was a somewhat similar case to Fir when she first appeared many, many years ago. It was like he'd simply popped up out of thin air.
Unlike Fir, the details of where Skinner came from weren't overly hard for people to work out, especially after the Mockingjay Rebellion. He was a travelling nomad who got split off from the rest of his small scan during a typhoon. What started as hunting mutts out of sheer self defence and as a source of food turned into his destiny.
Wherever there was mutt related danger he would be there, weapon in hand to take out the mutts. It wasn't as if the Peacekeepers were going to do anything about it, right?
Skinner only tended to pop up during mutt attacks or at the yearly reaping, so few ever got to exchange more than a few words with him. Those that did were quick to see that he was a fairly awkward sort of person, clearly unused to talking with other people. He'd trail off into mumbles, he'd never make eye contact, he'd often wring his hands or scratch behind his ear.
He just didn't understand other people. Hunting mutts was all he knew.
Living in his own hermit home far out in the Badlands of Ten, he'd assure anybody who asked – no that anybody did – that he was perfectly content with his life. He'd killed thousands of mutts to make his district safer, he'd made plenty of furniture and knick-knacks out of mutt bones, he had something of a heroic reputation… what reason was there to feel unhappy for lacking a social life?
People were strange. He'd leave all that communication stuff to people who knew how to use words if he could help it.
The reaping of the Sixty Ninth Hunger Games was the one time he could not help it.
"Skinner Alecto!"
Skinner silently approached the stage, staring out at the crowd. He felt a little awkward with how people stared at him, but he tried to bare it the best he could. He had no fear of death, of careers, of the arena and especially not of mutts.
But he could really do without people staring at him. Hadn't they ever seen somebody dressed in an outfit made of several mutt hides before?
Clearly not.
THE TRAPPER
I've never enjoyed the train tides too and from the Capitol. On the way there the tributes are often crying or at the very least miserable. On the way back it's either two dead tributes or a dead tribute and a victor overwhelmed by everything.
Even Pasture was a little rattled on the way home. Killing twelve people, even to reclaim her family's honour, took a lot more out of her than people thought.
I understand how she feels. I was horrified that I had it in me to send six people to their deaths with my traps. I didn't have to see them at the moment they died, but that doesn't help much. They still died.
At least I'll be able to see Spool tonight. He makes each trip to the Capitol worth it. If only I could move to Eight, or maybe he move to Ten…
It's a typically awkward dinner. Pasture practically inhales a massive platter of meat while the escort chides her over her lack of manners, Stallion eats with perfect table manner and focuses on eating vegetables first, the tributes just sit quietly and grab whatever catches their eyes… and I, as usual, stress eat.
It's not like I'm a glutton. It's just… any time I get scared or worried I eat. It makes me feel better. It's how I survive the train rides year after year. Nearly thirty years of mentoring and only one victor to show for it. As I said, it helps.
"So, guys," I push my plate to the side. "What sorts of skills do you have? Anything that might be useful in the arena?"
"Don't be shy, tell us anything you'd like," Pasture adds. "Beating people with shoes is a great skill they-who-dread."
"They're not as strong as you Pasture," I add, awkward. "Nobody is."
The girl, a fourteen year old from the richer parts of Ten, claims to be excellent with a butcher knife. One look at her and I feel like she should at least survive day one. It'll be an uphill battle, but perhaps Hay Jericho might have a chance.
The boy doesn't say much. He's been ever so quiet since the train ride started. Like he were off in his own little world. I'd assume he's locked up in fear, but… he doesn't look scared. He just looks shy if anything.
"Skinner?" I gently tap my spoon to a glass to get his attention. "Anything you'd like to share with us? Any skills?"
He glances to the side. "…I hunt mutts. Thousands of them."
…Oh! He's that Skinner. How did I not realise that before? A professional mutt hunter with such an extremely high body count, that's like a trapper with none of the waiting involved and about ten times the fighting and risk taking.
Hope starts to well up inside me. I've felt it many times before and been let down all but once, but perhaps Skinner has what it takes to be the victor. Maybe, just maybe…
"I like the sound of that, he-who-hunts," Pasture holds out a strong hand for Skinner to shake. "The daughter of a shepherd will gladly mentor you to victory!"
It's a moment before Skinner awkwardly accepts the offered handshake. It's a few moments longer before Pasture lets go, leaving him with a sore hand. I really need to remind her not to do that – she just doesn't know her own immense strength sometimes.
"So, Hay, who would you rather have mentor you?" I gesture between myself and Stallion. "Your choice."
Hay doesn't take long to decide. "Stallion's been coming to my family's butcher shop for ten years. I think I'll go with him."
"I'll do the best I can," Stallion gently shakes her hand. "We'll get you through this in one piece."
"Guess that's me on sponsor duty then," I say.
Normally it's hard to get any serious sponsors for District Ten. At this point we're almost last place in victors, tied only with Six and barely leading over Twelve. But maybe with Skinner's reputation as a legendary mutt killer we might just got some interest this time around.
Well, if we could get him to talk a bit more that is. I of all people understand being shy, but even I can say a few words and look people in the eye. Skinner's making the effort to try and avoid that as much as possible.
I suppose it's to be expected of somebody who lives the hermit lifestyle.
THE WALLOPER
[Panem Forever, issue #10493. Post-Parade interview with Pasture Gallows Victor of 59th Hunger Games. Interview conducted by Twillet Bean.]
Twillet Bean: Hi Pasture! Big fan of you and your iconic twelve kills. Now, wasn't that quite the eventful parade we just saw?
Pasture Gallows: I wish I could ride on the chariots again. I've asked and asked, but they-who-dictate claim only a tribute may ride. Feh! The daughter of a shepherd demands a second ride!
TB: You'd have to be a tribute again for that, sorry Pasture! But speaking of tributes, what a wide variety this year both in appearance and costume. The District One pair looked so fierce, I thought I might faint!
PG: The Gallows clan does not talk to assholes. It's tradition. I can't comment on the Ones.
TB: How about the Twos in their knight costumes?
PG: A Gallows family member does not talk to douchebags either.
TB: Well, can you comment on any of them?
PG: The Threes looked like crazy doo-hickeys, the Sixes looked more like minimum wage airline attendants than hovercraft pilots, District Seven is so unoriginal with their tree costumes that I'm almost weeping from boredom… the Nines were acceptable.
TB: Why's that? Do tell.
PG: They were dressed like bread. I like bread.
TB: I think a lot of us do.
PG: Do you, she-who-speaks-the-obvious? Tell me, do you like the district ten tributes as well? Perhaps my tribute, Skinner?
TB: He certainly looked formidable in the wolf pelt!
PG: Formidable? Do you live in a cave?! He looked ferocious! Bet on him, he's hands down the most powerful tribute in the Games. You heard it here first, this will be District Ten's year!
TB: You sound confident. How is Skinner different than the other district ten males besides Stallion?
PG: They had names sparkle-shoes! As for what makes him different… it's quite simple. What other tribute, Ten or otherwise, has killed thousands of mutts before the Games? You tell me she-who-sparkles. Skinner isn't a talker, but he is a man of action. As is said by the youth of today, let the bloodshed begin!
TB: I like blood!
THE STAMPEDER
Dear Diary
The pre-Game events this year were interesting. Not to say they never are, but this year sticks out to me more than most. Maybe it's the fact that our tributes might stand a chance – both scored eights – or perhaps it's the fact I've hit it off really well with Hay. I've known of her for years, but I've really known her for who she is this week. She's really something, so skilled and full of life. I don't want Skinner to die, but I want Hay to win. I think she'd be a wonderful fourth victor.
But… no. The thing that makes it all so interesting can be summed up in just one word. Skinner. He's really unique, you could say. He doesn't like talking and he often goes out of his way to avoid other people. But when he does get talking, it's like he's got the mind of a genius. Not quite the way Beetee and Wiress do, but the stuff he says about mutts and everything to do with hunting them… I learn something knew every time he opens his mouth.
The other tributes didn't take to him very well. Most of them think he's either crazy or on drugs of some sort. The careers tried to harass him, they always go for the outcasts, but it was like he couldn't even see them. He just stared blankly past them and they ended up leaving. I can only go on second hand reports, but I tell you what, this boy is compelling.
It's just too bad his interview didn't go so well. He didn't like being in front of a crowd and hardly knew what to say in response to Caesar's questions. Only when Caesar bought up mutts did he come to life and really show what he was made of, but by then he only had forty seconds left. Still, he did better than the four who followed after him.
It's late as I write this. Just six hours and the tributes will be taken to the arena… I wish them all the best. I believe they can pull this off. If there's ever a year for us then it's this one. After what happened to Algae last year it seems District Four's odds of becoming a career district have died. None of them want to risk ending up like her. It scared 'em straight. Meanwhile One and Two are dealing with the recent passing of Peridot and looming passing of Runa, respectively. It might be enough to mess with the heads of those careers enough for our pair to stand a chance.
I feel sick writing all that stuff. Sicker than I felt in that damn sewer all those years ago, but that's the world we're in. That's how it is.
Hay was nervous for tomorrow but nonetheless determined. Skinner hardly seems concerned, as if he doesn't know what awaits him. He spent the night drawing pictures of mutts. Gotta say, they look pretty damn good.
I wonder if I'll see either of them again after tomorrow. Alive and outside the arena, that is. I guess I'll do what I always do – hope for the best and brace for the worst.
Stallion 'The Stampeder' March
THE HUNTER
When Skinner is launched into the arena he doesn't react to the sight he sees. He hardly even blinks, merely gazing around the clearing and taking it all in, like how a curious kitten might observe fish in a river.
It's a scorching desert with cacti aplenty that the tributes have been put into this year. By the time the countdown is halfway over the tributes are all starting to sweat from the unforgiving heat. The scorching sun and the sight of water bottles scattered around the cornucopia ensures that not a single tribute is going to flee the bloodbath.
Even as the countdown ticks ever close towards zero, entering single digits, Skinner barely reacts. He stands calmly on his launch plate, wholly unbothered by anything going on. Even the heat doesn't seem to gain a reaction from him. He's too busy thinking, his usual blank stare plastered across his face.
Nobody knows what he could be thinking about.
The gong rings and all but one of the tributes charge into the fray in hopes of gathering as many supplies as possible and, in the case of the careers and a select few outliers, some kills to impress the sponsors with.
Skinner is the lone tribute not bothering to run into the fray. In fact, he doesn't run at all whether towards battle or away towards alleged safety. He just remains standing on his pedestal, still thinking to himself. He doesn't flinch at all when the boy from Nine has a chunk of his head smashed off nor when, a mere four pedestals down, the girl from One bashes the face of the boy from Eleven against the pedestal.
The most he does is scratch his chin.
Eventually he seems to have an idea of what to do, a moment after the girl from Two takes notice of how easy of a target he is. She throws a knife that seems sure to end up stuck in Skinner's throat.
It would have had he not calmly caught the knife by the handle in mid-air, a mere inch before it would've hit him. He turns to give the girl from Two a bemused look.
She remains rooted to the spot, stumped.
That's when Skinner finally made his move. He rocketed across the sandy clearing, grabbing up one of the largest backpacks, four bottles of water and a machete as he went. Nobody was able to stop him as he vanished over a nearby down and left into the desert.
The careers were, however, able to stop the small girl from Five makes a mistake. This time there was no amazing knife catching to prevent a knife being wedged into a throat.
Seven cannons fired. The Outliers scattered away, the careers began to take inventory and Skinner… he began to wander around the desert, as if searching for something only he knew about.
Nobody in Panem could claim to know what that thing might have been.
THE TRAPPER
Gathering sponsor pledges is a tricky business. Come on too strong and the citizens begin to cry and whine over being treated badly. Come on too soft and it's like you don't even care about your own tributes. It's hard knowing where the balance lies.
Thankfully I've had years to practise this exact thing. People around the Capitol tend to give me a chance to at least speak to them – more than what those from Six and Eleven usually get. Even moreso than Haymitch gets. – because of my dad's legacy and how I killed the entire career pack back in my Games so long ago.
I've never liked being rewarded for murder. Just a few more years… a few more years and somebody to rally behind, then we can try to rebel once again.
I don't want to imagine what'd happen if the districts lost again.
My morning has been spent with Grunnix Hastings. I've heard tell from Finnick that he's a truly vile human being, certainly worse than a typical mutt when all is said and done. Alas, he's a vile person who has money.
Money that would really help my tribute. I'd love to say tributes, but Hay… she didn't make it past the bloodbath.
"The facts speak for themselves Grunnix. Every time a Ten is set to win something special always happens prior to the crowning. Stallion's amazing speed and how he caused a few deaths without needing to try, my array of traps eliminating the careers… and let's be frank, Pasture needs no explanation. She's herself, that's enough," I say. I try not to think of shoes. I've always shuddered at the mention of that word ever since Pasture won.
"That's all true Lammy," he pauses to smoke his cigar. "But what has Skinner done?"
"He caught a knife in mid-air. That's not something that anybody could do," I remind him. It is left unspoken that the poor girl from Five proves the point.
"Fair enough, a point well made. But tell me this, what else has he done? What else can he do?" he laughs, doubtful. "I know it's only the second day in the arena, but I need more from a tribute before I invest in them. Right now the Twos are impressing me a lot more. As thus the Ones."
He has me there. "Well, uh…"
It's true. Skinner escaped the opening bloodbath and since then he's done nothing other than wander around, still searching for something. If only he would tell the audience what it is, maybe then I'd know what to say.
But, he's silent. He's got no interest in talking. Beetee claimed that it was a form of autism behind his behaviour. Better than the theories of the Capitol – they just think he's dumb.
…Hey, wait a moment…
"…Grunnix, if you want an answer then kindly look towards the TV," I gesture to the grand device.
The gamemakers have released snake mutts, lots of them. A statement from the Head Gamemaker details that new mutts will be unleashed every day, always swapped out for something better. A one of a kind mutt is due to appear on the fifth day.
Skinner beelines for the snakes that spawn nearby him. There must be at least thirty five of them, all with sharp fangs and a ferocious kiss. They shake their rattle tales, threatening any that would dare come towards them.
Skinner doesn't heed the warning.
It appears he hardly needed to. Grunnix is amazed by what he sees and even I have to rub my eyes a bit to be sure that it's all real. Skinner's massacring them! One by one the snakes are either decapitated or end up slashed in half. Skinner barely blinks as he takes them all out.
"Fifty," his first word since entering the arena. "Not all of them. More out there."
Skinner takes a deep gulp from one of his water bottles until it's empty, collects enough snake venom to refill the bottle and then he's on the move again. It all happens in under five minutes.
I turn back to Grunnix. "Feel Skinner is worth investing in?"
Grunnix simply opens his bulging wallet. "I can go as high as two hundred thousand caps."
I leave his residence with three things when all is said and done.
A massive sponsor pledge that should buy some good supplies for Skinner, if he ends up needing them at all.
Disgust at the way Grunnix looked at one of his hounds.
Tears in my eyes after witnessing a hoard of snakes pulverising the girl from Twelve.
THE WALLOPER
[Panem Forever issue #10499. Interview with Pasture Gallows Victor of 59th Hunger Games, regarding day four of 69th Hunger Games. Interview conducted by Edalurr Aine.]
Edalurr Aine: So, four days into the Games and eleven tributes remain. One of which is your very own tribute, Skinner Alecto.
Pasture Gallows: Bravo man-of-much-ego, did you work that one out all by yourself? The daughter of a shepherd thinks you should focus on the less obvious things in life, like mashed potatoes being overrated.
EA: I can't claim to think they are. What I do think, however, is that your tribute has a solid chance of winning this thing. The snakes failed to put up a fight and now the living cacti and the desert dogs have similarly failed. Skinner is seriously powerful!
PG: I told you so. I also told you to stop pointing out the obvious. Skinner is almost as strong as I am! Remember this fact!
EA: That's up for debate. He's killed over two hundred mutts already but he only killed a single tribute. What's up with that?
PG: The tribute was named Ullamire and, lest you forget, was from District Four.
EA: Who? Nevermind. Why does Skinner only have one kill?
PG: Ed boy! Are you blind? Do you live with your head deeper down than the depths of the soil? Ullamire died because she got between Skinner and the dog mutt he'd been trying to kill!
EA: Who? Well, anyway, feel like Skinner could win the Games?
PG: He'll win them and win them in style! He'll bring home much honour for our district as well as the lives of at least seven hundred mutts!
THE STAMPEDER
Dear Diary
Today was a very bad day. Not because of anything relating to Skinner. If anything he's not only surviving, he's thriving in the arena. It's insane that he's got enough energy to keep on slaughtering mutts at the rate he is. The massive rats on day five, the burrowing worms on day six and even the sand sharks today proved to be nothing for him to feel worried about. The other tributes certainly cannot say the same.
That's what made it such a horrible day. The death of the boy from Two yesterday was one thing, vile as those worms made it, but today brought about the deaths of the Ones and the boy from Eight. The girl from One was Platinum's daughter, Spinel. The sand sharks got her… they'd actually been trying to avoid her and go for the girl from two, but one shove changed that. Now Platinum's in hospital after an overdose and Augustus is having a massive drawn out fit over the whole thing. I can't blame him, I can't blame any of them. Platinum will live, thank the stars, but it was a close thing.
The boy from Eight had it worse. He survived a horrible bite from the sharks before they got called off. He lay in agony for hours, slowly bleeding onto the sand. The whole area around him had turned red. The worst part? He was one of the orphans who had grown up with Cecelia. Poor Button. He begged Skinner to kill him when they crossed paths. At least Skinner had the good grace to make it quick.
Win or lose I'm still going to be sleeping terribly for weeks after the Games end. How much longer is this going to go on for? Gwenith says she thinks we might have something ready to go by the eightieth Games, maybe sooner if we had a symbol of rebellion. I hope she's right as I can't wait much longer. Hay's death was pointless and cruel. I don't have it in me to see many more kids die like she did.
I hope tomorrow will be kinder. But with The Beast having been put into the arena a few days ago, I sure as hell doubt it will be.
Stallion 'The Stampeder' March
THE HUNTER
By the time the sand sharks had been called off only one of the careers was left alive amongst a total of eight tributes. The gamers resorted to unleashing mostly harmless mole mutts, wanting to ensure things could keep playing out for at least a few more days.
Skinner seemed almost bored with the mutts, not that it stopped him from killing them regardless. He had a much bigger priority than wasting too much time on them. He was gradually tracking down the ultimate prize that a mutt hunter could ever imagine.
The Beast.
Bioengineered by Iris, The Beast was perhaps the hands down most powerful mutt in the history of Panem. It was made out of fused DNA of a human, a crocodile, a mosquito, a hyena and a lizard. It stood at ten meters high and knew of nothing but pure hatred for everything around it. It was freakish, it was horrifying, it was advertised as invincible…
…And Skinner wanted to kill it.
The boy worked hard to track it down, moving around the arena in an erratic zigzag and doing his best to follow distant roars and cries of despair. Bit by bit he was closing the gap towards the monster.
The audience thought he was mad.
The victors from Ten also thought he was mad. But, mad or not, he'd made it this far without any sense of caution, fear or even a tiny bit of hesitance. Was it really so unlikely that he might find a way to kill The Beast?
Skinner spent the night in a dark cave, hot on the trail of The Beast. It was a much better place to sleep than out in the open at the base of a dune, a reality found out by the boy from Six when he awoke to see The Beast glaring down at him.
THE TRAPPER
It should be a pleasant sort of night. Tucked up in a warm bed with the most important person in Panem, at least to me, embracing me. It's been the way of things since the Forty Eighth Games – deal with the pain of losing tributes, cope with having to desperately haggle with sponsors, keep our rebel connections open…
…Share a night of passion and love.
It was nice. It was good. But even now my mind is stuck on loop over the state Cecelia was in mere hours ago. Button's death messed her up something awful. I tried to comfort her, say something – anything – that would help.
In a word, I failed. I can't forget what she said to me before she was gone, 'I can't save anybody! I can't save a single tribute, whether I just met them or practically raised them! They'll take my kids too, you just watch!'
When I say gone I refer of course to the fact Cecelia got arrested. She isn't dead or anything quite so extreme. Still, she did lose control of her urges and almost set fire to part of the nearest park. That won't come without punishment. It's not a huge leap to assume the tributes from Eight next year will suffer for it.
I softly sigh. One day, one day, Panem might become a nicer place. A place without fear of reapings and death when one has barely begun to live. I believe humanity can get there… eventually. But not yet… not yet.
"Feeling alright?" Spool asks.
I turn myself over to face him. He's just as lovely now as he was when we first started going out. If the Games bought me just one good thing, it's him. Would we have ever become what we are without them? It's a thought I don't feel comfortable dwelling on for long.
"Not really. Well, kind of? You certainly know how to make me feel better," I lightly peck him on the nose. "It's just… it's the same thing every year. Forced back here, mentor two new kids, watch them die almost all the time. I just want it to end."
Spool pull the bedsheets over us. It's cosy, but more importantly it's private. No way for us to be overheard.
"It will one day. I think we can win," he speaks with a confidence I wish I had. "It's all about finding chinks in the Capitol's armour. I managed to."
"That'll make a great propo when the truth finally comes out," I quip. I snuggle into his embrace. "I'm still amazed you pulled that off, you know that? You tricked them like it was nothing. Like it was all second nature for you."
"What can I say? I'm got more charisma than a con man," he playfully winks. "I meant what I said. The more we can gradually wear them down and outsmart them, the easier it'll be to win when war breaks out."
"That's the part I'm worried about," I close my eyes. "What if one of us dies in the war?"
"…Then the other will have to live on, and live the best life possible. It's what I'd want you to do," the way he looks at me… it has my heart all of a flutter. "That won't be for a while yet. We still have tomorrow to think about. And the day after that, and the day after that, and… well, you get the idea."
"Yeah, I do," I can't hold back a small laugh. "Maybe this year Ten might win. I'm sorry about your tributes, you know that, don't you?"
"Of course. If Eight can't win, I always hope that Ten will. I think Skinner could pull it off," he makes a face. "You know, if he stops trying to hunt down The Beast. That just makes no sense."
"Well, some tributes do some crazy things. You let Midas live after your duel, even though it served you absolutely zero benefit and risked a revenge attack later on. All it did was heighten the drama," in spite of everything I give him a cheeky look. "You're a true drama queen Spool."
I'm still laughing when the pillow is sent at me. Even in this dystopia of ours there are some things that keep us moving on no matter what. Love is one of those things.
Too bad the mood is spoiled by the live announcement outside that just six tributes remain.
THE WALLOPER
[Panem Forever issue #10505. Interview with Pasture Gallows Victor of 59th Hunger Games, regarding the feast of the 69th Hunger Games. Interview conducted by Camross Looper.]
Camross Looper: Pasture, we simply have to talk. What did you think of the feast? The world wants to know!
Pasture Gallows: It was really good man of much pink hair and little in the upstairs. I don't know how the Capitol makes such a fine lamb shank, but I'm glad that you do!
CL: I mean the Feast in the Games.
PG: The name is really misleading. I mean, the gamemakers… how can they-who-scheme call it a feast and not have any masses of meat on offer?! It's a scandal, it's completely against everything the Gallows clan believes in! I mean, you tell me what was at that feast. Tell me Mister Man!
CL: Water and grapes?
PG: Do either of those things sound like meat to you?
CL: Well… no.
PG: Exactly. Worst feast ever! I ought to beat whoever approved it with a shoe!
CL: Moving on from that, any thoughts on the Sevens being eliminated or that Skinner lacked the nerve to attend the feast? He's over four miles from the nearest tribute as we speak.
PG: Are you doubting Skinner's nerve? He is hunting down The Beast, you fool! If you dare say that again you'll experience the almighty three shoe beating!
THE STAMPEDER
Dear Diary
I have no idea how it happened. It should have been impossible. He should have been torn to bloody pieces… but he wasn't. Three cannons fired over the past two days and not one of them was for Skinner. He won!
It was easily one of the craziest finales the Games have ever seen, I tell you what. After the girl from Two died to the second round of sand sharks and the boy from Three died of thirst it was just Skinner and the girl from Eleven left. That girl was tall, brave and well equipped. I feared the worst.
They didn't even end up fighting. At least, not really. I'm not sure what I can even call this finale to be perfectly honest? Skinner finally caught up with The Beast when the girl was a mile away. They tried herding her over real soon after that, but all the while Skinner wasn't just fighting The Beast… he was surviving. He was winning! Turns out the thick pelt he'd made from some of the mutts he killed and the snake poison soaked onto his weapons was exactly the stuff required to take on the Beast in a fair fight.
Skinner's truly as fine a mutt hunter as there ever will be. The Beast never managed to land a single hit on him. By the time the girl from Eleven showed up it was covered in horrible gashes and was starting to die. Skinner ignored his opponent entirely. It was like she wasn't even there. He only had eyes for that monster.
Skinner didn't even kill her. The Beast ended up accidently stepping on the poor girl. Skinner ignored the trumpets and kept going at The Beast, even when Claudius kept telling him he'd won and that the Games were over. They weren't happy, but the audience loved it. Skinner's got something of a big fanbase now. They think he's a legend – he killed a grand total of two thousand, four hundred and sixty seven mutts overall. The Beast didn't die, barely, but it'll be years before they get that monster in any sort of presentable state again.
As I write this it's about an hour until Skinner's victor interview. I'm not wholly sure what to expect from this one. After all, he's still not much for talking. He was all sorts of awkward when we were able to see him after the Games. Just a quiet hello and a mumble for us to not come so close. I guess we'll just see what happens and roll with it. He might be a socially awkward mutt murdering hermit… but I tell you what, he's our socially awkward mutt murdering hermit! Yee-haw!
Feeling happy and hoping for back-to-back victors.
Stallion March
THE HUNTER
Skinner went home victorious and, while technically living in the victory village 'officially', went right back to living as he always had done. As a hermit and a legendary mutt hunter. There were still plenty of them crawling around Ten that needed to be disposed of. The Capitol tried to stop him and, when that failed, tried to keep tabs on him to ensure he'd not end up getting himself killed or, worse yet, outright vanishing.
They needn't have worried. It became clear that all the oddball really cared for was making ten safe and taking down mutts. They left him to it, occasionally putting in requests for him to make specific types of knick knacks out of mutt bones. Skinner obliged, if only because he had nothing else to do with his hunting trophies.
Skinner spent little time out of the arena. Not long after his own victory a pair of tributes from Twelve were able to outsmart the gamemakers and force a joint victory. Fire was catching and unrest and thoughts of rebellion filled the nation.
Enough for Snow to have the quell changed from whatever it was to be originally (and that in itself is another story…) in order to have Katniss Everdeen, and Peeta Mellark if at all possible, killed in the Games.
Ten only had two candidates for a male tribute. It was either Stallion or Skinner and neither would volunteer.
A mere minute after Lammy was spared and Pasture fearlessly mounted the stage the reaping slip was plucked out of the bowl.
"Skinner Alecto!"
The odds weren't in his favour, though just as with the first time Skinner barely emoted nor showed any fear. It was like it was business as usual for him.
He was quiet in training, merely looking over survival stations with a light curiosity. He was similarly quiet in interview, never being much of a talker. He was a man of action and the audience knew he'd only come to life in the arena.
He did.
After escaping the bloodbath without a scratch and with a machete, a knife and a screaming woman from Two behind him Skinner vanished into the jungle.
He figured out the fact water was in the trees barely an hour in. He saw Arendellian and Chaff going by a different points in time, not bothering to engage with either of them. Humans were never his game.
Mutts were.
During the second day, deep in the jungle within the six to seven clock sector, Skinner met his end. Katniss has assumed later that the so called beast had torn him to pieces in a very one sided fight.
She was wrong.
Skinner had been calmly walking along, not saying much of anything. He showed no fear, or much of anything. Even the fact he was near certain he would not win the Games did not phase him.
The time sector activated and hidden vents began to billow out thin clouds of air. Air that smelled of fresh, blood soaked meat.
Skinner had his machete in one hand and his knife in the other before The Beast had shown itself from the shadows. It still sported many scars from the previous battle they'd had, its face by now nothing short of grotesque.
Skinner just observed it curiously. He greeted it like it for an old friend.
"Haven't seen you in a while. How have you been?" Skinner asked, softly chuckling. "Had a face lift? Had any mutt pups?"
The Beast growled. Only the gamemakers were keeping it held back.
"I always knew I wasn't long for Panem. People like me? We don't live long, but we live a lot in the time we have," Skinner idly twirled his knife around between his fingers. "If this is how it has to end… if this is the final hunt I'll be taking part in… I can't think of a better conclusion to it all, old friend."
Skinner stood his ground, getting into a fighting position. The Beast's snarling began to get louder.
"I'm ready whenever you are," Skinner said, readying himself to dodge the first attack.
The Beast responded with a ferocious, terrifying roar and swung at Skinner with its claws. He easily dodged the first blow and responded by slashing a small cut into the paw of The Beast.
The fight was long and far beyond merely being savage. Skinner lacked the open space, armour and array of weapons he'd had during the first fight against this monster. Therefore it was sadly inevitable that he would be mortally wounded by The Beast.
But that didn't mean he could not win the fight.
In the end, bloodied and horrifically beaten, Skinner made one final move. He threw with the machete with all the strength he had left. It pieced deeply into the eye of The Beast, killing it after a mere moment. It let out a dying whimper as it staggered, soon to collapse.
Skinner knew he was as good as dead, but at least he'd managed to pull off the ultimate hunt. He'd killed the mutt that had been claimed unkillable. Nothing could take the victory away from him.
Not even The Beast when it fell towards him, its claws striking him by fluke as it fell.
Katniss had been right that the body, torn into multiple pieces, was hard to recognise and had truly been left in a horrible state.
But it wasn't the body of a true loser, either.
It was the remains of the greatest mutt hunter who would ever live.
Katniss and Peeta gave one last lingering look of pity towards Skinner's engraved face and resumed walking down the street.
It wasn't long at all until they came to the seventieth face, looks of pity filling up their eyes as they look at the imprinted face. The pictured young women had eyes wide with terror, like she were a moment away from a meltdown. Her hair flowed past her shoulders, almost ocean-like, and her lips were twisted into a whimper.
"Poor Annie," Peeta said, a sad look adoring his face. "She went through so much… think she'll be alright one day?"
"I hope she will be," Katniss said. She gently took hold of Peeta's hand. "Hopefully all of us will be… one day."
Hope you all liked this tale of the oddball mutt hunter. It's always fun to give life to the CF victors who canon never really gave any spotlight. It was a challenge, but one I was happy to take on. So there we go, Skinner defeated The Beast twice and being torn to pieces didn't quite happen in the way Katniss may have thought. Overall I like how oddball and off in his own world Skinner came off, and especially the format here. Nice to catch up on the other D10 victors and some of those from other districts, yeah? We're almost at the end of the decade guys, but before that can be achieved we still gotta get through Annie. Stay tuned!
Stats
District 1: Peridot Gaudy (8th Games), Crystal McCree (14th Games), Bronze Marley (19th Games), Crown Martins (24th Games), Dollar Dettwieller (32nd Games), Mascara Court (41st Games), Platinum Twist (44th Games), Gloss Lord (63rd Games), Cashmere Lord (64th Games), Augustus Braun (67th Games)
District 2: Baron Overwhill (4th Games), Runa Peace (7th Games), Olga Machete (10th Games), Rook Valiant (17th Games), Boulder Atherston (20th Games), Vercingetorix Carnby (25th Games), Dragon Batofel (27th Games), Rhyder Overwhill (39th Games), Mercy Gregor (46th Games), Brutus Gunn (49th Games), Lyme Rabe (51st Games), Enobaria Golding (62nd Games)
District 3: Honorius Perthshire (5th Games), Pi Orbit (22nd Games), Beetee Latier (37th Games), Wiress Plummer (47th Games), Yohan Fairbane (58th Games)
District 4: Museida Selkirk (3rd Games), Mags Flanagan (11th Games), Tide Luther (23rd Games), Librae Ogilvy (35th Games), Anchor Paddock (52nd Games), Finnick Odair (65th Games), Ron Stafford (68th Games)
District 5: Shunt Gaspar (12th Games), Isobel Sparks (18th Games), Crimson Flanders (29th Games), Porter Tripp (38th Games), Neon Erg (48th Games), Wattzon Holmes (55th Games), Arendellian Spinner III (57th Games)
District 6: Chassis Macalister (31st Games), Bentley Corduroy (54th Games), Porsche London (56th Games)
District 7: Pliny Aransio (2nd Games), Fir Buzz (9th Games), Jack Tylos (21st Games), Snag Nakamura (34th Games), Blight Jordan (53rd Games), Logger Barlow (61st Games)
District 8: Woof Casino (16th Games), Paige Murphy (30th Games), Spool Nylon (42nd Games), Cecelia Mog (60th Games)
District 9: Mizar Aldjoy (1st Games), Gwenith Rosebud (13th Games), Teff Withers (28th Games), Laurel Flamsteel (36th Games), Tabbock Summers (43rd Games), Trevy Vex (Escaped 55th Games)
District 10: Stallion March (26th Games), Lammy Phyronix (40th Games), Pasture Gallows (59th Games), Skinner Alecto (69th Games)
District 11: Bear Redfoot (15th Games), Seeder Howell (33rd Games), Chaff Mitchell (45th Games), Spud Munroe (66th Games)
District 12: Duke Saint-Rose (6th Games), Haymitch Abernathy (50th Games)