Note: The original language of the aliens has been translated into English

Outside of the gates of D9 on this hot day with blue skies, was a statue that presented a stick figure of a human and alien, holding hands above their heads, their hands forming a star. Multi-National United. Paving the way to unity. What a lie this corporation spreads. How could a company responsible for putting aliens into slums also preach unity? Such bullshit.

Surrounding this statue were multiple shacks where the aliens lived and scrounge for food.

Getting out of the van, Hansen followed his father. In a weird way, he was glad he was there. Because nervousness started to grab him.

The ground was sand, the sounds of aliens grunting and clicking in their odd language invaded his ears. The aliens were a few feet away, close enough to send Hansen into a bit of a nervous fit. These sounds only braced him more for when he'd actually need to communicate with them. Also, sounds of sudden bangs from the aliens' making a ruckus caused him to startle. He was nervous a gun fight would start soon-and it wasn't like that was an unlikely scenario.

The group found themselves surrounded by metal shacks. The further they walked into the compound, trash was littered on the ground, mostly empty cans of cat food which the aliens devoured. In various corners, aliens stood far away from the M.N.U workers. Standing in line for food. Some had crutches, some had missing limbs, some even had little alien children crying. They seemed harmless. Nigerians had their grip on District 9 and these aliens and sold them food and medical supplies in exchange for alien technology and weapons. Really, the humans made Hansen more nervous than the ETs.

The female and male soldier Hansen spoke to in the van patrol the area, making sure no prawn snuck up behind Bradley.

The father and son approached the first of many shacks, a rundown home covered in rust with cardboard pieces acting as reinforcement. The entirety of District 9 was surrounded in barbed wire, no traffic and no buildings were in sight. No rescue team either. Bradley and Hansen were in it for the long haul.

Bradley pounded on the front door of the home causing it to shake, black pistol out and loaded with a smirk.

Hansen stood to the side of his father, ringing his hands. With a swift movement, the door swung open harshly. The creature stood several feet taller than the average human. It has dark, thick shell-like skin, and a mass of facial tendrils. It walked a strange way, knees twisted. Almost like a giant, wingless insect. This alien happened to be green. As it spoke, two thin antennae wiggled gently in the breeze.

"What do you want?" It croaked, small eyes narrow. It wore no shirt, revealing a boney, insectoid chest along with a thin, boney midsection. Its pants were tattered.

Hansen knew exactly what it said. Along with reading Chris' blog, he had taken great time and effort to research the alien language, being a worker at M.N.U was required if one was going to be in D9.

"Making sure you don't have drugs. Do you?" Bradley smiled, staring up at the alien who clearly was pissed.

"What? No! Get the hell out!" It retorted in a series of angry grunts, it turned its back on the two humans. Hansen was grateful the prawn didn't see him as a threat. He felt sweat dribble from his armpits, staining his white dress shirt. The bullet proof vest proved to be a hot endeavor in this weather.

When the alien turned away, Bradley drew his gun and shot it in the leg. A loud BANG echoed through District 9 as the creature fell. Now yelling helplessly, tendrils wiggled as its small, round eyes held nothing but torment. It now lay on its back, looking up at the soldier who pressed the gun directly to its forehead.

"Check my house! I don't have anything! Please don't kill me! FUCK! It hurts! FUCK!" It pleaded as blood oozed from its leg, thick black and gooey.

Hansen rushed to his father, putting two hands on one brawny arm. "Dad! Please...don't. Okay? It can't hurt us."

Without a second thought, Bradley fired into the aliens' head. Blood pooled into the sands of District 9 as it died.

"Don't you ever talk back to me again. You don't know shit about these prawns. It would've struck. Could've killed you. You should be thanking me." He holstered his gun and walked past his son, purposely bumping into him.

Hansen stood above the corpse, Bradley was busy walking away in a fit of rage. Hansen stared into the dead eyes of the prawn, looking right into the bullet hole, and seeing part of its brain. Hansen felt a lump in his throat. Suddenly forgetting the stifling heat and minimal breeze. Death. I've never seen it so close and personal. When it spoke, I could almost hear him or her like a human. I heard its pain. I heard its suffering.

Now Hansen walked behind his dad, quite far. He really didn't feel like discussing anything now. His dad had killed an innocent creature. Why? To show off? To show how tough he was? As Hansen walked through the shanties and piles of trash, he was shown a life he never thought possible. Well, he knew it was possible, but stepping onto the soil was a life-changing experience.

In the distance, an alien chewed on an old tire. If Hansen was brave, he would've approached it and talked to it. Though, it was in the middle of pulling rubber out with its mouth. Were there little teeth beneath those weird mouths?

Another door swings open and Bradley once again smirks. The second alien encounter was like the first, but this one seemed less hostile and more smug. It folded its boney arms across its chest. Hansen stood away from his dad, and closer to the prawn in question. Which maybe wasn't a great idea. Hansen knew how strong these creatures were and had seen them rip limbs from sockets. Its home was much bigger, it was deeper within the compound, which made Bradley even more prejudiced. More places to hide stuff.

"You hiding alien weapons here or tech?" The older man asked, holding an M.N.U badge up to the face of the black and yellow creature. Almost like a bee, its coloring was indeed unique. Its arms also were slightly bigger, meaning maybe he did more physical work on the mother ship than the green ones? Hansen figured the different colors must have meant something. Maybe rank?

"Go ahead and check," said the alien, stepping aside from the doorway and letting the soldier in.

"Good boy." Bradley nodded with a chuckle, speaking down to it like a puppy. He proceeded to walk into the metal home, being as noisy as possible. Hands over his hips and strutting like he owns the place.

"Fucking asshole." Muttered the alien as soon as the sergeant was out of ear shot. Who then turned its attention to Hansen. Hansen was much shorter, athletic but harmless looking. He had a kinder face. Clearly not a military guy. "And who are you?"

"Hansen Cooper, sir. M.N.U employee." The blonde man spoke calmly, hoping to be as kind as possible to the space farer.

"Ah. You're younger than the other guy. He showing you the ropes? How to abuse us?" Sneered the creature, eyeing the man up and down seeing if his words of kindness were real or some nasty trick.

"Trust me, I'm not like him. What's your name?" asked Hansen in a softer voice.

His dad was still checking boxes in the aliens' shack, he could hear Bradley rummaging and grunting. Hansen couldn't imagine your home just being vandalized in such a way. By a government official no less.

A helicopter flew overhead, and aliens spoke to one another close by. Walking and on guard, staring at the man in the tie talking to the very tall and strong prawn.

The alien did sense this human had a glint of genuine concern. He certainly was a good liar if all of this was a facade.

Hansen took notice of a word spray painted on the side of the shack, it read Calvin.

"Why you have your name, Calvin spray painted on the side of your house? Is it cause of other prawns?" Hansen asked, feeling the heat of the sun beat down on him.

"Yeah. Other prawns. Say that word one more time and I'll break your arm." Calvin wanted to slap Hansen upside the head but knew better. M.N.U tortured aliens. It was their specialty. Actually, if Hansen wanted to, he could've arrested Calvin on the spot and thrown him in a cell.

"Sorry, sir. I just...I hear it all the time. Won't happen again." Hansen felt a wave of irritability for what he did.

"Apologies. Don't hear those from bureaucrats often." Calvin nodded. "Maybe you aren't so bad." For one small instant, his eyes became soft as he looked at the clean-shaven man. A brief moment with a human where he wasn't tense or depressed. Hansen had the effect, perhaps.

"Looks like a clean shack!" Bradley shouted, making the alien startle. He pulled his son aside roughly, both standing in front of the large shack. Calvin stands in the doorway again. "You're one of the smart ones, huh?" Bradley gazed at the alien. With its torn denim jacket and baseball cap on backwards, with two holes for his antenna. He fit the typical description of a 'thug' or 'gang banger' in the eyes of the old man. A look that only brought out venomous hate even more.

"Are we done?" Calvin rolled his eyes, mandibles wiggling gently.

"It's hot. You're miserable. Yeah, we're done." He once again gripped Hansen's wrist and tugged him along. Calvin sighed and slammed the door to his shack as he entered.

On the van ride to M.N.U, Hansen gazed out the window. Wrapping his head around what he'd just seen. A death, but he also met an alien with a sharp tongue and smart mind. Or so he thought from what little interaction they had.

Why do I want to go back to Calvin? To expose M.N.U? People already know M.N.U is awful. I remember the protests in the streets. The people shouting "M.N.U has got to go" and other things. Maybe I wanna show everyone what a dick my dad is? Why would I want to go back to District 9? It's such a dangerous place. Not because of aliens, but because of the people who put them there. If they were treated well, it may be a happier place. Or at least content. If we had gotten along with them, maybe all of this could've been different? I won't cry now. Maybe later. That poor alien being shot in the head makes me feel dizzy.