This is it. My armor is down to ten percent and I probably won’t be able to stop another assault.

Yet the slavers keep coming. I stole their prize and they’re screaming for blood.

It doesn’t really matter any more at this point. The women and children have had time to get away. The slaver corpses piled at my feet attest to that.

I only wish I could have killed more of them. It's the only thing that's kept me going these last few years.

Still, they keep coming. It’s personal now. The slavers want me dead and they don’t care what it costs. I can respect that.

I’ve used my last grenade. My plasma rifle is broken beyond repair. I’m down to just my sidearm. The same one I shot that scientist with. God forgive me.

It was all a lie. I can see that now. The Enclave, all of it, was a lie. My arrogance blinded me. John Henry Eden was just a machine. I so wanted to believe but now I can see.

A better man than I let me live at the Jefferson Memorial. Since then I’ve done what little I can. Wandering the wasteland, trying to make up for what I’ve done. It will never be enough, of course, but I still have to try. Honor demands it.

Here they come again. There are too many of them. I’ll never stop them all but it doesn’t matter. I’ve bought these women their freedom. Paid for it with blood and fire. Freedom, isn’t that what it was supposed to be about all along? How did I lose sight of that?

To whoever finds this log. My name is Colonel Augustus Autumn. Formerly of the Enclave. God bless the United States of America.

(End of Recording)

That's pretty good! Maybe you could do something like this for James.