I look out from the tree I'm perched in. Nega Salt's making a presumably grandiose speech. To be expected. My own Nega is leaning against a tree grumbling to himself. He sees me and smiles, but doesn't do anything. I phone him. "You got a plan?" "Just some old fashioned ultra violence, the fucker tore down my house." "Sounds fun, catch you later." I hang up and pull out my revolver, aiming for Nega Salt.