ENCLOSED IN THIS DOCUMENT IS A LETTER FROM THE DESK OF JONATHAN KLYZAC OF THE LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA DIVISION OF PRIMUS COMPANY

ADRESSED TO THE DESK OF QUEEN FROM THE LAS VEGAS, NEVADA DIVISION OF PRIMUS COMPANY

FOR THEIR EYES ONLY

REMEMBER THAT MAIL THEFT IS A SERIOUS CRIME AND ANY PARTIES OTHER THAN THE INTENDED RECIPIENT WILL BE PUNISHED FOR OPENING OR READING THE CONTENTS OF THIS DOCUMENT

To tell you the truth, this past month since the Nevada Lights incident and the no doubt resulting wildfire have been boring. Everything hurts, head included, and i'm not talking about the hangover. It hurts when i change the bandages, it hurts when i move, the alcohol burns going down, and what's worse, i've got a bunch of casualty reports to fill out, as well as a requisition form to restock from the medical wing, and if there's anything left of that place to investigate after it's all said and done, who knows what they'll do. I mean, I'm glad I'm not you. But then again, I'd rather be doing paperwork than live in Vegas.

Actually, I'd sooner [CENSORED] than live in Vegas.

No hard feelings.

So, you know the Object we lifted from the site of the Nevada Lights incident? They would have confiscated it, just barely managed to get it back, actually. When you have the time, and if you want to, i can fax you some photocopies and hopefully some translated scripts. It's been a bitch and a half brushing up on ancient Gaelic of all languages, but it's been fun Studying under blacklight trying to unravel this thing, i mean the Phonetics are really something else.

Hope to hear from you soon, this matter is of utmost importance, front to Back. - Klyzac

On the back of the letter, written in invisible ink, are two encoded sentences. One of them is written on the back of a postcard of Los Angeles.

--- 

XRAY LIMA INDIA

FOXTROT SIERRA SIERRA OSCAR

MIKE WHISKEY

OSCAR INDIA CHARLIE

---

WHISKEY MIKE ROMEO KILO YANKEE PAPA ECHO VICTOR MIKE XRAY CHARLIE

MIKE WHISKEY

TANGO VICTOR MIKE QUEBEC YANKEE WHISKEY

---

END

THE LAST EMPEROR OF ROME

TAKE FOUR AWAY

(to translate, use the Phonetic Alphabet and then put it through a Caesar Cipher at -4)

''You have [ONE] new message.''

[BEEEP]

''John, this is your psychologist, Reidd. Do tell me you've been keeping up with your journal. Don't forget about our appointment this week. I believe we're coming up on a big breakthrough and this could be good for you.''

''Yeah yeah, fuckin' shrink...'' Klyzac rolls out of bed.

He cracks open a dusty looking notebook, last dated around a month or two ago, clicks his pen a few times and starts scribbling.

--

It's days like these a man really misses having his left hand. I can't begin to tell you how much the stump's been hurting. Worse than usual actually.

Something tells me my body's been rejecting the implants ever since i first got them, the doctors said they'd never seen a reaction like hhis before. It could be due to

the latent mental disorder they diagnosed me with, it could have been a side effect of the treatments, any number of things really.

I think i might try switching antidepressants soon, they aren't really working like they used to. And hey, that's not the only thing that's broken.

Some things are just permanently wrong with me, looks like. Just my luck, if i had to say anything on it.

I can hardly bring myself to look at the stump anymore, i used to be such a damn good doctor, and then i wasn't anymore. I had to learn how to use my right hand for everything

it felt like learning how to walk again in a way. I've been living so long saddled with all this bullshit and i'm hardly even 40...

Whatever's hit me, whatever piece of my soul i sold to save Queen's life, i feel so much worse without it. Usually i only slept in until 5:00pm on weekends, but now?

I can never sleep, or i can never get enough sleep, sometimes i don't even wake up in my own bed. I only figured something was wrong when Michael woke me up

at three in the morning while i was holding a fresh pot of coffee, and i look down, and i'm just in my boxers and a t shirt.

For fuck's sake, why is everything wrong with me?

Even after all this shit, i can't quit. They won't let me. I'll be nothing without them.

In fact, i'm just another headline waiting to happen. How long will it be until i slip completely? How much time do i have left?

I have to keep looking into this. For my life, and god knows how many others.

I won't accept a dead end.