A man lurks in the woods, hiding. His hands are clammy as he hunts his human prey. Now it was all or nothing, he could not afford to let his prey discover his presence. Not until it was too late for his prey.
He spent the last eight months trying his best to remain inconspicuous, to be but a shadow at night, a coal miner or peacekeeper in day. To be someone that you could pass on the street and completely forget the moment he is out of your sight. Getting past the electric fence and into the District was the easy part; if you think that is hard, try remaining unnoticed for almost a whole year.
His camouflage is designed so accurately that not even the animals notice where he is. It was not designed to remain unseen in the woods: it was designed specifically for District 12s woods! It was designed to the smallest detail to grant near invisibility. The ability to fool even nature was also in part thanks to the serum now flowing through his blood that utterly prevents his body from secreting any odor, stench, musk, or smell.
The operative did not know from the start he was destined for the work he was selected for at the age of fourteen, and trained for until the age of twenty eight. It was not until after he was specially chosen by his training officer to be moved from regular training to his current field that he knew the one one thing that would remain constant:He was ready for the life of a covert operative. Once the operative graduated from military academy with flying colors, he got to request his field.
While fresh graduates are allowed to request what mission they are sent on, there is nothing preventing their superiors from ignoring them. The operatives was always one to take the hard way out when given the choice, so it is no wonder that he turned away he possibility of comfortably spying on his fellow comrades in the domestic operations force. He had the skill and competence to back up his desire to preform in the highest risk unit, so his request was not ignored. He is in District 12, as apposed to District 2 or the Capitol, because the higher ups wanted him to test the water, and that is why he is nervous.
The operative knew that if he blew this one chance, he would never get another one. His record would be sullied, and he would be forced to work in the Domestic operations force. All his training at the most cutthroat military Academy in his district, working hard to not only pass but to be at the top of his class, all of it will be wasted if he fails his first mission.
For the first two months here, he worried that he would not be able to find a candidate suitable for selection. He took secret blood samples of anyone who looked promising, but it was slow work. The mobile DNA scanner he brought with him is only able to synthesize six samples at a time, so he was basically taking shots in the dark.
In an over ambitious and objectively foolhardy move, the operative snuck into the Justice Building several times and digitally copied documents of the citizens. He hoped to find some useful information in the tessare records, only to find to his dismay that the District 12 Headpeacekeeper and Mayor have long since neglected their populations genetic records and allowed them to become out of date.
The operative almost began to dread his first four month report, as he would have to admit having gotten nowhere. Then he got a stroke of luck.
With two months to go before his first report, he found a perfect candidate for selection. First of all, the candidate he found matched all required traits: a female between the age of sixteen and twenty, no genetic disorders, no health problems, and with genes sharing no more than fifty percent similarity with the average District 13 genes. After being ordered to wait four more months and carry out further investigation, he discovered more traits about the candidate he selected that practically make her too good a candidate to exist. She illegally hunted, ensuring that she is unaffected by the lung problems that afflict District 12's population as well as insuring she has a healthy diet. She even hunts on a regular schedule, in the part of the woods in the general direction of District 13.
The operative now was finally ready to complete his mission, his sole reason for being in District 12 for eight long months. He had had several close calls, and even had to murder, dismember, and bury in the woods a man who caught him sleuthing. In his hands was clasped a high strength stealth handgun capable of firing high strength sedatives at seven yards away. Now he waits.
The prey then came into view, a bow in her right hand and a quiver of arrows on her back. She raised her bow, notched an arrow into place, and took aim. The arrow flew over the head of the operative and struck a barred owl through the chest. Though the operative did not turn around, he suspected the barred owl would fall backward before landing upon the forest floor below. He was right, it did.
The operative now had his turn to take aim. He pulled the trigger, and the sedative needle bullet hit its mark. The prey felt the needle bullet hit her shoulder, her eyes widened. While she tried hard not to drop her bow, the sedative did what it was designed to do and she fell unconscious.
The operative, no longer needing to be hidden, stood up. He pulled the now empty needle bullet out of the prisoners shoulder, and hoisted her over his. He picked up her bow with his other hand, so as not to leave any evidence. He headed to a clearing eight miles into the woods, one where a hovercraft would take him and the prisoner back to District 13.