Title: Spearing the Tide (1/2)

Author: dreamerchaos

Pairing: PrawnsxWikus

Rating: MATURE

Warnings: Pron. Dub-con?

Disclaimer: Recognizeable characters owned by Peter Jackson. I make no profit by writing this.

Summary: The new District is no better than the last. And just like the other District, a handful of prawns are induced into a near crazed state of lust and a combination of rage as a pheromone cycle kicks in. The human meat sellers grow frustrated with losing business as a result of these few, so they refer to old measures from District 9 for how to deal with the amorous rutting prawns.


It is a drop of blood amidst sea of clear blue water; a sparkle of a diamond bead within the deepest cavern.

It is the breath of a wolf across the back of the sheep's neck. It stirs a terrified shudder, and prawns raise their heads up, their scavenging interrupted by this heady scent.

The warning pulses across the yard and the signal flares like a dropped bomb.

At the head of the line of prawns who wait to pay for meager scraps of raw meat, the human men curse in alarm and literally throw themselves over their wares and cut boards as two large prawns bellow and leap over the humans' counters, leaping into the midst of the prawn crowd.

The two large prawns out mass most of the others, one a deep blue gray while the other an electric yellow. They're covered with faint scars from previous scuffles, but their rippled carapaces signify the battles that they have survived over many years, making them formidable opponents to even the largest prawn awaiting their turn in line for a ration of food.

Smaller prawns scatter, ignoring the pleas and hails of the men waving their products for sale. Amidst the raised voices and clatters of disappearing prawns, the two rogues shriek and rise to their full height, flexing and spreading their arms wide as they menace the few snarling large prawns that stand around rigid with fury at their indecent display.

The humans know better than to directly interfere with this confrontation. The men can discern from the wild glaze in the two prawns' eyes, the ruddy red veins that surround large amber eyes and the rippled hackles that spike their layers of ridged carapaces that the two prawns are in the beginning of a rutting season.

One of the younger men is too slow in moving aside as one of the rutting males shrieks and charges the small crowd of prawns. The young man howls in agony as he is backhanded aside and sent crashing into a pile of sharp metal cans and rusted loops of wires.

The prawns squabble and hiss as they collide with their opponents, rolling across the ground like yowling spitting feral cats. Claws scratch and mandibles snap forward as the group tangles together. The humans scream in outrage as the rolling seething mass of fighters roll towards their stand and knock over their table and wood chop boards. Knives and various pieces of meat are knocked into the filth and dirt, the wares ground underneath their feet as the humans flee out of the way to avoid the waving curled talons and kicking limbs.

The remainder of the prawn crowd disperses in surrender, splitting into opposite directions as they flee from the rowdy yet immensely strong young competitors. The rogue pair howls their victory up towards the ash gray sky, hot on the other prawns' heels, not as easily turned away from a half-decent fight as the others.

After the dust literally settles, the men grumble and right their tables with scowls and curses. They survey the damage to their supplies and products while another man yanks the sliced whimpering young man up out of the pile of trash.

"Another season with those damn prawns thinking with what's between their legs rather than their ears," One of the older men snorts as he feebly tries to dust off the dry strips of meat that had been tossed onto the ground.

Another man spits angrily as he kicks aside the ruined table and cut boards. "We've already lost more than half of our customers after their last display. We'll be lucky to have any by the end of the week."

The older man sighs as he drops the ruined meat back onto the ground, discarding the loss. "Get the boys ready." He looks towards the shacks and mountains of trash, his faded hearing just managing to make out the escalated shrieks of the rutting pair, "Tell them to get everything ready. I'll find us our bait while they get everything set."


Wikus knows that he should be bothered by the degree of attention he receives from the men who cut up and sell fresh meat.

He's already on edge from the howls and rapidly escalating fights that mount throughout the District as the pair of prawns deal out new havoc.

Now he has to worry about contending with the intense admiring consideration from the humans.

He only dares to approach the short line of prawns that wait to buy fresh meat simply because he is starving. Without food for the last two days, Wikus is desperate. The prawn scratches up enough coins to purchase some old jerky or maybe a pound worth of pig meat if he's lucky.

He hesitates for a moment when it is his turn to approach the table and men. Carefully he clutches the gleaming handful of coins as he shuffles forward.

The older man, his skin as dry as parchment and as dark as tobacco, looks at the smaller prawn that approaches his stand. His eyes gleam with with low banked flames of keen cleverness as he smiles winningly at the shying prawn; the older man recognizes the smaller prawn by his loose blue shirt and ragged black shorts, but the main revelation that spikes his memory comes from the tale-tell rich blue ring of color around the prawn's amber eyes.

"Well, if it isn't Blue Eyes." The man purrs. Wikus' eyes skitter left and right as he notices the other men perk up, their cunning beady eyes sliding over him.

Wikus shudders and leans away prepared to step out of line and abandon the idea of purchasing food from the strange unsettling humans.

"Now don't be shy." The haggler snaps his hand forward and snags the prawn's wrist, clutching the curled hand which possesses the handful of coins, "I always notice when one of my customers returns after a long time away."

"I was here last week." Wikus suppresses a faint shudder at the human's oily voice.

"But you haven't been here recently to see our new stock!" The man wheedles with an audacious smile.

Wikus' gaze flickers over the table. Noting the pink and white tangled guts, strings of skin and glistening sliced piles of wet meat, "…It looks the same to me."

But the human is insistent. Far from deterred, he circles around the table while still clutching the prawn's wrist, sweeping up a rare chunk of lamb meat as he walks backwards with Wikus' wrist still held tight. Wikus can't help but to follow unless he's willing to rip his hand away and risk contending with the human's temper and the ire of his neighboring friends.

The older man waves the tempting morsel of meat in front of the hungry prawn, Wikus unconsciously stretching forward, antennas waving in the air.

"The best products are still in the back of our truck." Like a fish and a lure he patiently bobs and weaves the meat in front of the prawn.

Wikus dithers, bothered by the easy promise of food from the human who was known to bellow his lungs hoarse and colorfully curse any prawn who was late on paying for meat, "…I…I don't think.." He stutters and faltered.

"I insist." Wikus chokes on a whimper at the low growl from the man. He knows he can quite easily knock the human aside and run, but he is too reluctant to harm another entity. Too lacking in confidence to manage that feat…Too afraid that he wouldn't be strong or good enough to fend anyone off.

"Just listen to me and do what I say, Blue Eyes, and I won't lead you astray." The man confidently offers the meat to the short prawn. Wikus shakily accepts the chunk of lamb with one hand, but when he offers the coins to the human, the man waves it aside. "Keep it. It's my treat."

While Wikus shuffles to the music of the man's voice while he stuffs the small coins into the loose pocket of his shorts, the human piper leading his chosen away from the safer territory of the District sector that Wikus is so familiar with, the prawn doesn't notice the other humans who shadow them.


Wikus' arms are nervously crossed against his chest as he follows the human while they approach the old beaten up brown truck. The prawn inches forward, his anxiety spiking as he notes the abandoned shack sitting dark and quiet on the opposite side of the parked truck.

Something…something is wrong. A low warble of a moan escapes the prawn and he freezes in place, refusing to budge another step forward.

"I..I changed my mind." Wikus wrings his hands together, "I'll pay you for the lamb, I promise. But I…really want to go home now-"

The men who have been following them are suddenly circling the uncertain prawn, brandishing pipes and wooden boards. They don't plan to actually harm the prawn since they need him intact, but the show of force and aggression does spur a positive reaction.

The men bellow and flash their weapons, and initially the pitched voices startle Wikus more than the weapons. The prawn squeals and leaps away from them, backing away in the direction that they want him to go.

"Calm down, Blue Eyes!" The older man shows his hands in surrender to try and calm the petrified prawn, one of the men circling around the bowed, terrified prawn and throws open the door of the shack, "Just relax. Be a good prawn and get into the shack now." He coos.

Wikus whips his head left and right in refusal as he snarls half-heartedly towards the shouting men with their waving weapons. "N-No!"

One of the men darts towards him from the left and raises his weapon as if to strike.

Wikus startles and flinches back but is then quick to lunge forward prepared to strike.

But he freezes before his claws can touch the human, rearing back in shock at his brazenness to raise a hand against another person. His claws curl uselessly as he shudders in revulsion.

Wikus' hesitation is immediately set upon by the horde of humans. They rush him all at once, push and shove him back, grappling with his long arms as Wikus tries to jerk free and run. Wikus curls and struggles confused when one of the men rips of a shred of his shirt but otherwise leaves him unharmed.

"Gently!" The older man cautions as the men cram the prawn through the doorway while they bar the prawn with their pipes and planks, the hasty barrier keeping him from escape and flight.

Together they shove the prawn completely into the shack, the hard push sending Wikus to the thick dirt floor.

The men slam the door of the shack shut and several men wrestle to lift and shove a heavy piece of timber through a rough slot on either side of the metal door, dropping the beam into place and barring the smaller prawn inside.

"All right!" The leader cuts his hand through the air commanding the men to disperse, accepting the torn piece of fabric that one of the young men liberated off the prawn, "Now let's go find those two bastards and get this mess sorted out."


Wikus bangs the palms of his hands fruitlessly against the barred door. He whimpers as the barrier refuses to budge, skittering backwards and scales the walls in his panic to search and find a sliver of an escape. Wikus scratches at the locked window, swiping away the slime of mold and caked dust.

He can't see all too well through the thick grime, but after a moment squinting his eyes through the dusty film he can make out the shadows of the men returning after half an hour after he has been locked inside the shack.

The prawn grows further alarmed by the much larger, taller pair of shadows who follow the humans as they return.

In a panic Wikus scrambles upside down onto the ceiling, helplessly trying to claw his way out of his cage, whimpering with alarm as the familiar pair of rogue prawns all the while are being coaxed by the humans towards the smaller prawn's prison.


"That's it…" The human shakes the piece of cloth heavily scented with the smaller prawn's distinguishing musk, "Come on, big boy. Come on…" He swiftly moves with a hop and a skip, jumping back to avoid the snap of sharp mandibles and beak.

The large blue-gray prawn snaps at the teasing, waving fabric. The leaner electric yellow one curls his talons as he stalks after the human, crawling on all four limbs alongside his snarling partner.

"Get the door!" The man shouts as he dances just outside of the prawns' raking talons and snarled mandibles, "I can barely hold them off!" His voice whines with panic as he narrowly avoids losing his hand to the pair of prawns.

The other men don't have the opportunity to scramble and grunt and heave at the huge timber blocking the door of the shack. The two prawns suddenly raise their chins in unison, antennas quirked with peaked interest. Their heads bob while they ravenously scent the air, tasting the scent molecules soaked throughout the immediate area surrounding the barred shack.

The humans fall and scramble out of their way as the prawns attack the huge piece of timber; the pair quite easily hoists the barrier over their heads and casually tosses it aside. The piece of lumber spins and crashes into the rear of the parked truck, but the prawns ignore the squeal of metal as the truck is just about knocked over by the crushing impact.

"Shut the door! Shut the door!" One of the men begs as the prawns disappear into the gloom of the shed.

Two braver men dart forward and slam the door shut while the rest of the men begin throwing an alternating mix of heavy bags of trash and old metal equipment to bar the door from being open too easily from the inside.

It takes several seconds for their success to finally sink in. The men gasp for air after narrowly avoiding having their limbs severed and their blood splashed along the ground, winded from hunting down the rogue pair and then running in haste back to the shed while waving their lure in the air to guide the rutting pair towards the target.

"Al…all right…" their leader wheezes, leaning over with his hands on his knees, "Now we leave the rest to be sorted out on its own. Let's get out of here before they change their mind and get pissed off again and decide to try to make a go at eating us."