This is my first fan fiction (ever). District 9 was an awesome movie. I hope you enjoy my addition to the D9 universe. Please review!

The Only Good Prawn Is A Dead Prawn

Chapter 1

"Society honors its living conformists and its dead troublemakers."

Brian picked up a rifle, and examined it. It looked relatively clean. Of course, you could make anything look cleaner if you placed it next to the slime of District 9. He removed the magazine. Large clumps of dirt fell out. Shit. He thought. I can't keep anything clean in this god damned cave. He scraped the debris out of the rifle and placed it back on the table. They were just about finished, they had gathered enough weapons to hold off a small army. Most of them were human weapons stolen from MNU and local had numerous rifles, shotguns, and various pistols stacked on the table. All of the human weaponry on the table could not equal the three alien weapons they were able to obtain. Brian himself would never get much use out of them, but some of his comrades would.

He looked across the table, to the other side of the dimly lit room. A single light bulb hung from an extension cord, illuminating the room with a dull orange glow. The walls were dirt, and were braced by wood and metal scraps. The doorway was covered only by a tattered blue tarp nailed to the ceiling. Three beings were seated at the other side of the table. One was human, the other two were Poleepkwan. One of the Poleepkwan had looked like it had been through hell. His outer shell was scarred and discolored, the red was fading away to a dull brown and grey color. He was also missing one of his antennae. The other was a light blue color, and was in much better shape than the first. Even while sitting, the two aliens had to keep their heads down due to the low dirt ceiling.

"This look like enough?"

"Not as much as we had wanted, but it will be adequate for now." Clicked the red Poleepkwa.

"You guys are sure about this?" Asked the other human from across the table. "I mean, this fellow here can tell you how bad things can turn out if MNU captures you." He said, motioning to the red Poleepkwa. It nodded in agreement.

"I'm sure." Brian said without looking up from the table of weapons.

"MNU's brutality can hardly be matched, but we cannot wait any longer. MNU could find us any day now. There have been enough close calls already." The blue Poleepkwa said sternly. (Or what could be considered sternly, Brian still had trouble picking emotions out of their faces and dialogue.)

"That is not the only reason. Our people are starting to loose hope. It has been a year and a half since Christopher Johnson left. No one thinks he will ever return. We need an act that will show that there is still hope for both of our races." The red one interjected.

"Then it happens. Tomorrow." Brian said, standing up. He shuffled along the wall of the cramped room, dirt and dust falling on him along they way. "We are all set with the weapons. Everybody needs to rest for tomorrow." He added, as he swept away the tarp covering the doorway and entered a corridor. It was even darker than the room, though the ceiling was slightly higher. It was narrow, you had to turn sideways when passing someone else. He continued and it opened up onto a oval shaped room, about 15 meters across. There was tattered mattresses and blankets scattered around. Trash was piled in the corners, and an awful stench hung in the air. It did not look much different than the squalor above them in District 9. He sat sat down on the gravel floor, and leaned against the wall. He stared up at the ceiling.

How can we continue with this much longer? We are running short on supplies and morale is at an all time low. This had to end soon, either in success or in complete disaster. He thought as he lit a cigarette. He felt a slight rumbling in the ground, as small pieces of dirt fell from overhead. MNU had bulldozed about half of District 9 at this point, as they transferred the remaining Poleepkwa to District 10. He feared what would happen if the heavy machinery got directly overhead. They had not been out of their underground hiding place in almost two weeks, as places above ground to hide were dwindling.

He and his group of about 15 humans and 25 Poleepkwa were members of a small resistance group formed in District 9. Also, they were one of the first anti MNU groups made up of humans and Poleepkwan members working together. They were forced underground when MNU cracked down on D9 shortly before the mothership left. Support for the resistance had been growing, but nothing major in terms of government reform or MNU reform had come of it. They were labeled as just another "terrorist group" or "warring faction" by the media. How can people be so fucking blind? Brian, of course, knew the answer to that question. It was just three years ago he had arrived in Johannesburg, South Africa. It was three years ago when he had been promoted to a new position at MNU.

Three Years ago, one and a half years before Christopher leaves the planet.

The plane made a slight bump again. Brian gripped the arm of his chair even harder. His fingers were turning white.

"Fuck, man. You need to relax." Commented Markus, a good friend of Brian's.

"I am relaxed." Brian said back to his friend, annoyed. "I just don't like flying, that's all."

" You would think a hot shot ex-military man yourself wouldn't be afraid of a little flying."

Markus could tell Brian did not find the comment amusing.

"How soon do they want you to start work after you land?" Markus asked.

"They gave me three days. It should be enough time to recover from the jet lag and get unpacked."

"Shit man" commented Markus. "I'm starting tomorrow...... more like in 14 hours. The new management is very strict. They don't like to wait around. You are lucky you get three days."

"Well, you lived in South Africa for 28 years of your life. I think you can handle yourself."

A tone over the intercom interrupted them. The pilot informed the passengers that they were beginning their decent into the airport. Brian gripped his seat even harder. He hated landing.

I am glad that shit is done with.Brian thought as he reached his apartment door. He was lucky to know Markus. Markus was a South African native, so he was able to show Brian around the town for an hour or so before he had to get prepped for work. Brian fumbled with his keys and unlocked the door. It wasn't as nice as his apartment back in the states, but it would do. He walked over to the window and pulled back the shades. He looked out over the skyline of Johannesburg. He looked even harder at the thing that hovered over it. It was one of the largest things he had ever seen. It was as big as the downtown section of Joburg itself. And it just hovered there, lifeless. It almost seemed surreal. Sure, he had seen it plenty of times on television, but seeing it in person was an entirely new experience.

Maybe I should have stayed home. Thought Brian. But there is nothing left for me in the states. My wife left me, I lost a lot of friends, and burned a lot of bridges. If it weren't for this transfer to the S.A. branch of MNU, I would probably be out on the streets. Maybe a fresh start is what I need.

He turned his attention away from the ship and back to unpacking. He thought more about his job. He was a firearms instructor, and was going to be in charge of training some of the new recruits in the field. He was anxious to get out and start working.

He had heard horror stories from Markus about these aliens, Prawns as they were called. Markus had told him about how savage and unintelligent they were. He had heard that they could rip a man limb from limb in seconds. It's good how MNU keeps these things separate from humans. Who knows what would happen if those crazy fuckers were let loose in the general public.

Brian spent the next two days unpacking, getting to know his way around the town, and reading over the regulations the Prawns had to follow. The regulations were strict- and Brian liked that. Who knows what they could be capable of. They are just lucky they landed here, where MNU is willing to take care of them.

Brian entered his fist day of work a little more confident than when he had first arrived in SA. He was still gutting used to all of the new culture, but he found the S.A. MNU branch structured the same as it had been in the states. He adjusted to working there quickly. After a few weeks, he made many friends at his position. He taught new operatives on defending themselves in District 9. This included firearm safety, maintenance, and how to effectively fight the Prawns.

"The Prawn can be very unpredictable. You need to keep on your toes at all times." Announced Brian to the group he was instructing. They were at a field near the outskirts of District 9 MNU used as a weapon training range. There was a row of paper targets, all of them outlines of Prawns. The "kill zones" were marked on the targets. It was a dry and slightly windy day out.

Brian walked over to one of the targets. "These 2 circles are kill zones on a Prawn." He motioned to the head and center torso on the target. "These other areas will slow down or stop it, but are not immediately lethal." He motioned to other areas on the target. "I'm not sure why you would want to aim for those........ Because we all know the only good Prawn is a dead Prawn."

The group let out a small chuckle.

"Right, so I want you to continue working with the other instructors on kill shots only. Those are the shots that will save you or your partner from an unruly Prawn." The group split up, and everyone continued with their training. Brian left the group and headed back to the small shed built on the range.

"Thomas" Called Brian. "Is there a casper leaving back to MNU soon?"

"Yeah boss, next one is leaving in 5 minutes."

"Thanks. I need to get the hell out of here.... See you tomorrow Thomas."

"'Night boss."

Brian stepped back in the shack and traded in his service pistol for his personal revolver. He did not know why MNU equipped them with 9mm, it hardly was able to pierce the Prawns outer shell. They were really only good with head shots. And head shots were not always easy.

He holstered his .357 magnum and stepped back outside the shack, around to the casper that was waiting out front. He opened the back hatch.

"How are the newbies?" Markus asked, as he extended his hand for Brian.

"Going much better than the first batch. Still had a couple of fucking idiots who kept pointing their weapons everywhere. Almost got someone killed." Brian grasped Markus' hand, and hoisted himself into the casper. The engine revved up and the casper began moving forward.

"Fuck man. You set them strait?"

"Yeah" Brian said, as he removed his gloves and helmet. "They won't be doing it again."

"Right"Markus chuckled. "You doing anything tonight man? Me and a couple of the guys are going out tonight with some of the girls from accounting."

"Accounting? You have really outdone yourself this time Markus. First payroll now accounting...... Wow."

"Shut up man! You didn't answer my question. Are you in or n-"

Markus was cut of from a sudden scream from the radio.

"HELP!" They could hear a chaotic mix of gunshots and screaming in the background of the transmission.

"I need some fucking back up!! Now!"

Brian grabbed the radio microphone. "Where are you?"

"Section 12 of District 9! These fuckers already killed my driver and my partner is wounded! You better hurry the fuck up!!" More gunshots and screaming could be heard heard over the radio, as well as Prawn screeches.

"Give us two minutes. We are on our way" Brian hung the microphone back up. He put his helmet on and fastened the straps. He pulled a shotgun off of a rack and chambered a round. Markus loaded his rifle, and the two other operatives followed suit. The driver had increased his speed, but the two minutes felt like two hours. They continued to hear gun shots over the radio. At least that means someone is still alive.

The driver screeched to a halt. He backed the casper up to a solitary MNU pickup truck. They could see a downed operative. Standing over him was another operative with a rifle, pointing at a large group of Prawns. Most of them were just out to see what the commotion was. About 6 of them were being very aggressive to the operative, only keeping their distance because of his rifle fire. The casper hatch swung open, and the 4 operative sprinted to the groups of Prawns.

"Get back! Get the fuck back!!" Brian screamed. One Prawn charged the stranded operative. Everyone opened fire. The aggressor was ripped in half by the concentrated fire. The group continued to fire into the crowd of Prawns, until they all had all run away or were downed. More than a dozen Prawns lay dead or dying.

The remaining operatives ran to assist their downed friend. His leg had been torn off at the hip. The limb lay 3 meters away, and the entire area was drenched in blood. Brian reached down and checked for a pulse.

"Nothing. He's gone." Brian said, looking away.

"Mother fucker......"

Brian turned and looked in the drivers seat of the pickup truck. The driver had his head nearly ripped off. It was hanging off to the right side, just by a few strings of skin. Blood had cascaded out the door of the truck and left a puddle under the door."

"Come here you fucker!!!"

Brian turned to see Markus quickly walking to an injured Prawn. It was small, barley 5 feet tall. It was not an adult, only a child. The Prawn was limping away, its leg leaving a trail of black blood.

"Come back here! Get the fuck back here!!" Markus kicked the Prawn in its injured leg, causing it to collapse. He kicked it multiple times in the body.

"Markus! Leave that one! It didn't-" Brian was cut off buy 3 loud gunshots. The injured prawn slumped back, spurting black liquid from its head. It hit the ground with a thud, and its arm twitched once before it lay completely still. Markus re-holstered his pistol and walked back over to the group.

"You didn't need to do that. It wasn't one of the ones who attacked you." Brian said as Markus walked past.

"Fuck man. You said it yourself. The only good Prawn is a dead Prawn." Markus turned and climbed back into the casper.

Three years Later.

Brian took the last drag off of his cigarette, and tossed it away. He exhaled slowly.

I don't know why seeing that Prawn die bothered me so much. I had seen plenty killed before that, and even had killed quite a few myself. Even a couple of little ones. For some reason, the image of that dead Prawn was burned into my memory. It's probably what got me into all of this shit.

He let his head rest on the dirt wall behind him. He continued to stare at the dimly lit ceiling. Another sleepless night in District 9.

Thanks for reading. If you have any criticism or advice for me, feel free to mention it in a review or pm me. Any input you guys have would be greatly appreciated. This is my first fanfic, so I probably have a lot to learn.

Cheers,

-DR Fronkensteen