CARVER’S HOLOTAPE RECORDINGS

Note: Game adds effects, so need to do anything to the recording.

The Doc calls it the theory of everything. But three weeks in, and we got nothing to show for it.
Meanwhile our supplies are running low and the ghouls are at the door.
He keeps saying he’s close. Well, so are they.

Last night I caught the Doc sitting at his desk, reading a book. Not a science book, but a novel from some Rooskie.
Here we are hanging on by a thread and this guy’s got both feet on his desk, stroking his dick on some commie bullshit.
I ask him why we we’re still here when he has the journal, and he keeps on spewing this bullshit about missing pages.
He keeps pushing my buttons, and it won’t be the pages that go missing. Butcher will see to that.

The ghouls are gone, but so are half my men. Some of the gang are so pissed they want to sell the Doc to slavers.
I told the Doc to stay down in the metro, at least until Butch calms down.
Eightball though, she wants to keep the old man alive, and now that the ghouls are dealt with, all the deaths mean is a bigger cut.
Maybe she knows more than she’s letting on. It’s not like the crew I put together is high on karma.
But I can’t worry about that now. The natives are getting restless. I need to ask the Doc if he’s lined up a buyer.

It turns out the Doc fucked us. I put the revolver to his head and he confessed it all.
This theory of his ain’t worth shit to pigs. He says it’ll be years before we can even prove it, let alone make use of it.
Says that’s how science works. Well, that ain’t how the wastes work. I’m done with this job. I’m cutting the Doc loose. Pretty sure the men will agree.