"We tried their way."

  The lion-hearted peacemaker folded up an ironed shirt sleeve and pinned it. 

  "That was before this." A woman ironed another set of uniform clothing.  "Before this," she echo'd. 

  The "this" was hostages and cement poured into tunnel openings.  The "this" was another generation of commanders without families.  The "this" was navies trapped without air support.  And it was daughters joining the fray. 

  "Their over there for talks." 

  "So the grocery stores are empty again to stock the shelters." 

  "To stock the shelters." 

  We'd eaten a canned pineapple.  Everybody had a ring and a half.  Each person ate the one ring and tried to give somebody else a half to have a whole.  Not fitting into any one militant-about was making for some interesting get-togethers.  And that was lifting spirits out of tedium. 

  "It'll be a problem." 

  "The nukes?" 

  "The Democrats, the Lebanese, the talks.  People of a certain something, economic class or something, same bubble.  And some of the Jews choosing to keep drilling down.  There's always a problem, but this is of particular concern." 

  "Concern," came the echo from his other half.

  "Why do you people keep trying to rip my boyfriend's face off?"  The woman was irate.  The talon'd nails on one hand not holding a lap dog or "toy" dog flickered silvery green  even in the only-emergency lighting.  The tall, hansome man with the golden locks pulled into a bun and wrapped with a grease rag turned his face so everyone could see what "the Korean pop star" had done.  Bright red claw marks were welting on his skin. 

  "Dey say his a trannie." 

  "His what?" 

  "Here focus.  We got a call for an arm.  Here's the number." 

  "Did they say transforce?" 

  "Yah.  Mebbee." 

  "They meant multicultural and multidisciplinary." 

  Body bags on dry cleaning style moving hanger racks crackled and parted.  Gray and black uniformed people were lift-carrying one of the dead.  "Best to shut dah fuck up," one barked.  "Especially if they meant multi-national," a woman's voice said behind surgical scrubs and mask.  "All that's changed now." 

  "Time to find an arm Doctor?" 

  "No." 

  "I'll do it but somebody better feed me after shift," a guy said.