Note: For anyone familiar with Gem of the Mojave, the Post-New Vegas fan fiction, this one will follow the tale of Justin Mieux as he went through his adventure in the Mojave, and maybe, when I write it all out, Dead Money and Lonesome Road. (Given I feel despite my personal canon for Mieux, they are ultimately irrelivent to his story.) As for his tale, I'm picking up in Boulder City, as I don't feel there's anything worth writing a myriad of detail about between Goodsprings and NoVac. But I will write in the bits and pieces that play a larger role of importance to his canon.

Boulder City Saloon, Evening of October 25th, 2281

The words still rang in Justin's ears as he stared at the gold engraved lighter, flicking the lid up and down absently, "It's Benny's lighter. Shove it up his ass when you catch up with him." In his eyes, all he could see was the face of the man Benny, pointing the gun in his face, a flash of light, then nothing. Justin jumped in his bar stool when he heard the bar tender of the Big Horn Saloon, Ike, ask if he was alright, "Hm? Oh. Yes, or course. I was just lost in thought." He got up from the bar and slipped a bag of caps on the table for his and Raul's drinks. "Thank you for your service, Sir. Can I buy a bottle of Scotch for the road?" Ike simply laughed as he pulled a full bottle off the shelf and put it on the counter, "Sure, pal. Plan on stumbling all the way to New Vegas?" Justin in kind gave a light chuckle, "I can't drown my problems, but I can sure as hell try and teach them to swim." Justin placed a small hand of caps on the counter and stepped outside, enjoying the night air.

He arranged his satchel with the miscellaneous odds and ends he'd found around his shoulder, being careful not to risk breaking the couple of snowglobes he found lying in a few places. After checking to see if his gear was tidied up properly, he took a swallow of scotch and walked out into the night. He screamed as a large bulky shape charged out from behind the building. "OH GOD!" He cried, reaching for his Cowboy Repeater. "Hey, hey, easy friend. It's just your old pal Victor." Though Justin was relieved it was just Victor, he was still upset. "Victor! You just made me break a very pricey bottle of Scotch all over the road, what the hell!" His tone one more of lament than anger. "Don't worry Partner, I'll buy the first round when you reach New Vegas." Dismissing it, Justin simply laughed it off, "Fair enough my friend. So, what brings you out this way?" Victor, per his usual odd behaviour, avoided the question directly. "Oh, you know, just rollin' along on my spurs. Saw whatcha did, talking down them Khan varmints." Justin furrowed his eyes and tilted his head inquiringly at Victor, "What? How? I never saw you in there." He just gave a mischievous giggle and answered ominously, "I have my ways, Partner. But no worries, we're all friends here. Well, I best be rollin' on towards New Vegas. See ya Justin!" The clunky robot rolled on away, as if trying to avoid more questions Justin had. Knowing something was off, but not quite caring, he simply gave a quiet laugh and looked to Raul, "Well, best head on to the 188 my friend. Getting tired, and I want to sleep on a matress tonight." Raul cocked an eyebrow, or, were one should have been, and simply replied with his usual sarcasm, "What? You won't sleep on the dirt, but dirty 200 year old mattresses are cleaner to you?" Justin's look of amusemant faded and his face went blank as he stared at Raul. "Uh.....Boss?" Justin feigned snapping out of a daydream, "Oh, what? I'm sorry. I was just wondering why I don't leave you and your smart alec to the buzzards." "It's because you'd weep to lose sight of my pretty face, right boss?" Mieux just snorted loudly and went walking on the highway. "That's EXACTLY why, Raul. Exactly why."

Mieux sniffed the air hungrily. "Oh, you smell that Raul? Brahmin Steak, that'd go GREAT with some Scotch." Raul simply looked questioningly at Justin and said with mild mocking, "You're a pig and a drunk, boss. You know that?" Justin simply laughed, then stopped and thought. "What the hell's a pig? Those pink round thingies from before the War right?" Raul simply sighed and Justin shrugged, walking up to the counter at the makeshift bar. "Scotch, full bottle." The owner, a man named Samuel Kerr, replied with a mild hesitant rejection to the request. "Sorry, but we're out. I do however have a bottle of Absinthe, if you got the caps that is." Justin furrowed his eyes. "What's absinthe?" Samuel pulled the huge green bottle out and placed it on the counter. "Very good, very powerful." Raul saw the gleam in his eye and tried to stop him. "I wouldn't do that Boss. You get tipsy after a couple drinks." Justin simply laughed, "Pfffft, whatever. I've got my winnings from the Vikki and Vance, I want to live it up." Raul resigned with a sigh, knowing it was pointless to try and make him stop. Five whiskey glasses worth of Absinthe, and everything faded to nothing, a beautiful swirl of colours and patterns.

Justin lay there on the ground, contently stroking his hand through the hair of a beautiful woman, topless in the dirt next to him, giving her wet sloppy kisses. When he opened his eyes, he saw himself cuddled with a coyote, licking his face. "What? Aw! OH EWWWWW!" Mieux spit towards the ground in disgust, the bright mid-day sun on him. He grabbed his Canteen, a pale blue leather case with a yellow 13 on it, and downed it from a mix of dehydration and trying to gargle the dog spit. He heard laughter and looked in its direction, seeing Raul camped out between two mid height rocks, a flap of brahmin hide shading his head. Justin continued gargling, spit the warm water out, and pointed a finger accusingly at Raul. "How long has THAT been going on?" He said, pointing his finger from Raul to the Coyote. "I dunno, Boss. I sort of lost track of time since this morning. It was to funny to let it stop." Raul continued to rasp uncontrollably. "You're a bastard, Raul." Justin said, pointing to him once more. Trying to regain his surroundings, he looked at the world around him, noting a huge concrete wall, and next to the dirt a huge concrete road. "Is this one of those Airports?" Justin asked curiously. Raul looked at him, slowly ceasing his rasping laughing, and answered him. "Hm? Oh, yeah, that's McCarran Airport, well, was. Now the NCR calls it Camp McCarran."

Justin nodded his head. "Huh. So, that's the famous Camp McCarran from Radio New Vegas and what the troopers go on about huh?" He then shrugged and walked to the right to avoid the walls. "Well, our destination ain't Khaki Town. We need to go further on north. Let's go, Raul, Vegas awaits. And don't think I'll forgive you for letting me play cuddle up with that damn coyote." His town was light hearted, obviously not distressed over the event.