To start off, this is my first public and deep attempt at a fan fiction, it wont be a 'guns blazing' style fan fiction, but rather, it will follow my actual New Vegas character, who works for Mr. House and The Strip. So it will attempt to follow is life as the aide to Mr. House. I hope it will be of some interest to some of you.

Constructive Opinions are welcome.
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January 1st, 2282 12:00 A.M.

Justin, the man known formerly as ‘The Courier’ was now well established as the right hand of Mr. House. He did not pretend his position was a mere cap to throw in the bucket. He was well aware that he was living much more comfortably than even those ON The Strip, let alone off of it. He was well educated, self taught, and now much smarter under the intense tutelage of Mr. House. It was a dawn of a new year, he stood in the Cocktail Lounge of the Lucky 38, straightening his black suit coat, taking a sip of Absinthe from his iced shot glass, faint explosions sounding in the night as fireworks boomed overhead, NCR citizens and various other Mojave residents partying on The Strip, he frowned as he thought about how Mr. Houses prediction had come true.

After Mr. House claimed New Vegas as independent of NCR and Legion rule, the NCR government, albeit unsuceeding in general, had attempt to convince citizens to funnel their caps elsewhere, since New Vegas was not theirs. However, the human nature of that lust for luxury and pleasure could not be discouraged.

The Strip has continued to thrive over all, and tonight was no exception, a monitor he had installed in the Lounge flickered on as Mr. House’s portrait flickered onto the screen, his well educated and rich toned voice becoming audible, “You know, as much as I pride working, you deserve a night off, rarely do I see you loosen your tie, besides, you are due to make a speech tonight to the people below.” Justin gave a half laugh “I know sir, I just enjoy my work a little more than anyone else should, but if you don’t mind, I suppose I COULD take the night off.” With that he pardoned himself politely, he gave Mr. House an almost Godly respect, not because he worshiped Mr. House, but rather because he saw him as a father figure.

Justin emerged from the doors of the Lucky 38 giving greetings back to the two Securitron officers outside the front doors as they greeted him. He had changed into a silk black tuxedo with a black bowtie. He watched as people crowded by, he mentally grimaced at the drunkards, remembering these drunks paid for The Strips economy, so he kept cool as he marched to the doors of the Monorail Station, as he was due to give a New Years speech. He drank from a sip of cold water, preparing his voice for his speech. He ordered the Securitrons to cease the fireworks, he called the people to his attention as he prepared to speak to the audience now gathered.

“Patrons of the New Vegas Strip, allow me to begin by extending a warm welcome, courtesy of Mr. House, CEO and Proprietor of the New Vegas Strip. The year is now 2282, in the past year, many things have happened. The NCR and the Legion butted heads at Hoover Dam, The NCR retreated from the Mojave by treaty, and the Legion has marched East, licking their wounds. But one thing has happened that has happened for the past 205 years since the Great War ravaged the Earth. And that is that Las Vegas still stands and will continue to stand for years to come.” He gave a brief pause, smiling as people gave a few cheers. “Thank you, Thank you. But really, it is more than these lights, it is more than Mr. House or I, it is more than anything else The Strip offers. Rather, it is YOU the customer that is what chugs Vegas along. With this I say to you all, VIVA LAS VEGAS 2282!” He shouted loudly in the microphone, ending his speech, his glass of cold water raised in toast as the people shouted, and fireworks boomed as he walked down the steps, going over to the Ultra Luxe fountain, sitting down and listening to the water spew gently. It was at that moment he knew, he could truly his power for so much good.

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As a notice, I will try my best to continue updates of this, but it MAY go slowly as I try to show a story of human progress over guns and combat.

I don't like Mr.House but the opening was solid and I'm interested in seeing how Vegas is run in this fanfic.

Well, the way I envisioned it based on Mr. Houses dialogue and ending slides is it would be run as a business, but my character having Very Good Karma ingame, he would likely try and find ways to use his powers for alot of good.

I love this! Mr. House is my favorite character in Fallout history! Mainly because he is the President of my favorite Fallout Company RobCo. Can't wait for the next chapter.

very good; I enjoyed the way it flowed, you catch my drift? I personally don't like house (never trust a man afraid to show his face) but maybe this'll change my mind

I'm glad you guys liked it. I just spent a good hour or two writing this. This chapter here is a pretty long one so bear with me xD

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Chapter 2- The Gomorrah Gambit

January 15th 2282

6:57 A.M.

The sun slowly but beautifully lit up The Strip, day now having arisen, the neon glory of The Strip shut down, and the party starting to slumber for the next twelve-thirteen hours. But Justin seldom partied on The Strip, he’d occasionally brush shoulders with the classy Ultra-Luxe, the soft music and fine meals made him a frequent customer, both for business, and a loosening of his tie for a dinner, sometimes a little lunch.

His day was beginning, his bare feet sticking out of his crimson red sleepwear, a bowl of cereal and some Brahmin milk, he read through his soft-bound booklet, reading each note and reminder, a grim look fell over his face as his lip quivered in disgust, he had a meeting with Cachino, the head of the Omertas, and thus Gomorrah. He sighed “A great day off to a bad start.” He sighed again “Now I’ll have to rush this, the less I deal with them directly, the better.”

He never cared for Gomorrah, though not a shy man, he was very straight laced about six, drugs, and alcohol. In his eyes, Gomorrah was a blight on the Strip, but at the same time, it was the most profitable and visited casino. However his records did not match the income for every day in the past month, and Mr. House had asked him to investigate the matter, as any loss of profit was, as Mr. House put it ‘a dent in the way to a flawless future for mankind’.

He finished washing his bowl and drank a quick sip of coffee, it was 200 years old, but for some reason, the age seemed to enhance its flavor. Justin went down to his floor and washed up, changing into his very sharp and business toned, if not somewhat dull and unimaginative in colors. A black suit with a red tie and thin white stripes and a white pressed dress shirt, and a Lucky 38 pin on his lapel. It was thirty minutes to 8:00 A.M., the designated time of his meeting with Gommorah management

He quickly placed his notebook in his suitcase and walked across the street to Gomorrah, with 10 minutes left until the meeting, he sat on the upper balcony overlooking the stage, drinking another cup of coffee, as he stirred it with a thin red stirrer, listening to the soft jazz playing, the ONLY good thing about Gomorrah in his opinion. He lifted the white cup, his heart somewhat gleeful as he got ready to take a sip when he heard that irritating voice, sounding like a cliché Mobster from before the war behind “Hey Boss!” Justin turned his head, and saw Cachino, his bald spot gleaming in the light. “What can I do for you? I got your memo saying you wanted to talk to me.” Cachino nervously sat down “Mr. House mad at me?” Justin stared at Cachino for a second, his cold, unrevealing face observing Cachino behaving slightly skittish, a sure sign Cachino knew exactly what this meeting was about.

Without even a falsely courteous greeting he spoke “In a manner of speaking, yes, Mr. House is a little irate. For the past month, your income records that are submitted do not match the sums being brought in at the end of each day. Mr. Cachino, the contract your family holds with Mr. House does not stipulate that you may at any time falsify your daily incomes, nor may you hold back profits. As it stands, the past month you have been submitting 45% of your daily income, which you are contractually obligated to turn in 50% of your daily income. As well, on a personal not, I did not install you as the head of the Omertas so that you may betray Mr. House, quite the opposite to be exact.” Cachino mopped his balding head with his handkerchief nervously. His gangster accent skittering nervously like a radroach in the light “Listen boss, we’ve been loyal to House, we just wanted a little more side profit.” Justin halted Cachino and spoke in a slightly annoyed tone ‘Mr. Cachino, this casino, minus Mr. Houses take, earns roughly one hundred thousand caps, maybe one hundred and fifty on a good month, apart from when renovations are needed, your casino takes roughly thirty to forty thousand caps a month, now, that leaves you with a one hundred and ten to one hundred and twenty thousand cap profit when all is said and done.”

Cachino grimaced in fear that he knew all of Gomorrah’s average takes, “Look Mr. Justin please don’t kick me out, I’ll return it all today” He openly grabbed Justin’s hand in desperation, “ PLEASE don’t burn me!” Justin sighed in disgust and said in a businesslike and impassive tone. “Get your hands off of me Cachino and act like a man for Christ’s sake. If you pay it all off now, your casino will suffer, and thus The Strip will suffer, and then I would kick your ass out of here so hard you’ll be burping my shoes.” He noticed Cachino grin at the comment a little. “Look Cachino, I was hoping you’d behave peacefully, so I typed up this contract, which Mr. House has approved of. My signature and Mr. House’s signature are on here, now all we need is yours and this ordeal will be settled peacefully, by signing this you agree to pay 55% of your profits from today, January 15th 2282 up until February 15th 2282, upon that date, your payments will revert to 50% again, failure to comply with this contract will result in either your execution or exile from the New Vegas Strip and all surrounding sectors of New Vegas. Do you understand?” Cachino, having been struck with the fear of God, silently signed the contract. “Have a good day Mr. Cachino”

Justin couldn’t help but grin as he exited the casino, his firm and businesslike attitude was becoming ever better known on the Strip. Off the clock, he was well liked, on business, he was well respected and feared for his cold tone and firm force of will. He strolled slowly down to the Monorail, to check on the new project going on there.

Me rikey this stowy!

Er...sorry about that. But in any case, I really enjoy this story. It shows a nice flow of events of after the Hoover Dam incident. Now I would want to see what became of Caesar's Legion, specifically Caesar. Also want to know what happens to NCR.

Well, I'm basing my story based on my personal playthroughs. While I dont like the Legion, I talk it out with Lanius, and then I talk it out with General Oliver, so the basic premise of my storys interpretation is that the Legions power is broken in the Mojave region if not destroyed, and the NCR attempted to convince people to funnel their money AWAY from Vegas since it is not NCR controlled, and since I never took hostile action against NCR and actually helped them out even saving Kimball (Albeit because House asked me to) it helped tensions lesson. Though it will not be in my story if I dont advance it years ahead, it will basically show Hous and NCR have a healthy business relationship. It will never really explore what has happened to the NCR or Legion apart from their forces leaving the region since the story will follow more on my character and his using his position to annex and rebuild the entire city of Vegas with Mr. House. (Chapter 3 will cover some of the main events of what is being done for Vegas)

I like this story a lot already but I just seriously hate House and anyone that wants to ally with him. I'm also pretty much always very evil (can't help it) so I'm not much of a big fan of Justin either but I still like this. Good job, awaiting chapter 3. :goodjob:

A story you hate to love and love to hate :laugh:

I named my PC after myself, curse my lack of interest in weird names like 'beardspike' or some odd name, I've seen a few odd ones, but hey , its their game xD

This chapter will attempt to show how similiar yet starkly contrasting yet similiar Justin is to Mr. House, they both have a huge ambition yet the key difference being Justin is extremely interested in the annexing of Westside, North Vegas, and Freeside into New Vegas and turning it into one city, and helping the city rebuild as a whole, where as Mr. House sees it as give or take either way.
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Chapter 3: From Neglect We Shall Take Flight

January 15th 2282

12:38 P.M.

Justin entered the LVB Monorail Station and flashed his official Strip Passport to the Securitrons guarding the entry to and from the Monorail. After NCR was pushed out of Vegas, McCarran was essentially deserted, but under his constant begging, Justin managed to convince Mr. House to send 30 Securitrons to McCarran. At first Mr. House was unhappy about redirecting them to an empty husk, until Justin explained his reasons for begging, after his explanations, Mr. House praised Justin for this stroke of genius. But within a few years, Justin knew his goals would soon or ‘reviving Las Vegas’ would soon be a reality.
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(A few days after the battle for Hoover Dam)

The elevator doors of the Lucky 38 Penthouse opened with a ‘clunk’ as Justin, in a sharp suit, as part of his presentation, stepped out, he greeted Jane, Mr. Houses ‘girl’ warmly. “Why good morning Jane, you’re looking more beautiful each passing day.” To which Jane giggled back “Oh stop sugar, you’re such a flatterer. Mr. House is ready to see you.”
He nodded to her curtly “Thank you, Jane.” He moved down the stairs and stood before Mr. House’s communication terminal and spoke with utmost respect. “Good morning Mr. House. I’ve come to you with my presentation for what I’ve been planning since before the battle.” He fumbled with his suitcase as he pulled out some papers and placed them on a table before Mr. House. Before reading the papers Mr. House asked in his high brow and well educated voice “I have to ask, what exactly is the presentation of yours? Not another ‘renovation of Freeside’ proposal I hope. I told you we can worry about that at a later time, there are more pressing matters at hand here on the New Vegas Strip.” Justin spoke slowly, “Yes, well, no. Not this time at least. I’m still working on that one.” Mr. House sighed quickly and said, “Oh, I’ll be awaiting that proposal with baited breath I assure you.” Justin quickly drew Mr. House’s attention to his papers.

“Sir, the reason I’ve been asking for an allocation of some Securitrons is that, as you well know, McCarran was not always an NCR camp, it was at one point an airport 200 years ago. When I visited Camp McCarran, I was awestruck. Not by the NCR and its military camp, but rather, I was mentally driven to tears at the site of undestroyed airplanes.” He took a sip from his water glass and clearing his throat. “These airplanes, with a little work, can easily be turned into something absolutely beautiful. I’ll quote you on this one. ‘What is the NCR? A society wanting to experience ease, comfort, luxury. A society, of customers’ ” He quickly had a new thought come to mind. “And what else a better way to funnel money into our plans for Vegas? Another luxury. You may be ready to ask ‘Who will repair these planes?’ or ‘Who will flies these planes?’ I’ll tell you who, The Boomers of course. They have certainly proven themselves capable pilots, courtesy of the Nellis AFB Flight Simulations. With a year or two, we can see these planes functioning and flying to and from Shady Sands or The Hub, hell, maybe we could even fly to Washington DC, assuming there’s anything left there. This could bring many jobs to Vegas, help get rid of jobless druggies and vagrants and produce a living for people here in Vegas, a path to the road of a new and fully functioning Vegas.” Justin drank from his glass the last of the water and waited for Mr. House to respond. “I said it at the Dam, and I shall say it again, even fewer of my employees have managed to surpass my expectations. With such a well presented proposition, and such a grand outcome, how could I possibly refuse it? Consider your request granted.”
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January 15th 2282

12:46 P.M.

Snapping out of his daydream, Justin picked up his briefcase and realized the monorail was long stopped at the McCarran exit. He stepped inside the airport, the lights inside bright and beautifully humming. In the past month in a half, Mr. House hired ten Boomers as aircraft mechanics and thirty Freeside residents as general maintenance and labor. The Freeside residents being hired was Justin’s idea, though he now lived on The Strip, he never ceased to look for ways to slip in attempts at getting aid for Freeside and its residents, an example of this was when he and his friend Arcade, a member of the Followers, encouraged him to route Helios Ones power to Freeside, this made Freeside much better off. The reason for so many hands was that Justin wanted, if nothing else, every light in the McCarran Airport building to be functioning and sure enough, in ten days they managed to fix the interior lights, the boomers vigorously day and night worked on the old commercial liners, refurbishing chairs, fixing the folding wings, repairing the rotors and engines. All in all, Justin was proud, though this was his idea to get it started, these people under his management were building the road to a world that was and should still be. People working side by side for the purpose of a better tomorrow, he knew he would have a lot of papers and contracts to sign, the workers many parts and machines to repair. But with thirty Securitrons aiding in the security of McCarran, this was only the beginning.

6:00 P.M.

After nearly six hours, he had completed his weekly inspection of things; his on-site manager reported the day to day functions have been very fluid, no casualties, and one injury, courtesy of a Freeside repairman getting their hand stuck in an old Nuka Cola vending machine. Coming so far and only spending ten thousand caps this week out of their forty thousand cap budget, Justin always gave the weeks left over caps to the workers and the purchase of food shipments for Freeside. All in all, this was a very exceptional day. However, next month would be real exciting, the Boomers reported one plane was fully functional, but they want to spend a month doing a fine toothed inspection of her to make sure she’d run without a hitch, of course, this wouldn’t be a flight test sadly, merely a functioning test. If she ran ten minutes without trouble, then preparations on the planes flight capabilities would begin in May at earliest.

This is great.

I want to hear more of what happens at the airport plz

:celebration: this is great, keep it coming
:foodndrink: :hubbahubba:
:run: :dmc:
:tops: :lmao: :rock: :hehe:

Nice writing. :spotted owl:

Chapter 4 WAS going to be about the batch of plane tests, but I think I'll save that for Chapter 5. This one will be another personal depth story, showing how his constant all work and no play has basically repressed so much emotion that he has a meltdown in this chapter.

On a side note I want to thank everyone cheering me on and thanking me, I appreciate the support. :vaultboy:
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Chapter 4: Memories of a Troubled Conscience

February 10th, 2282

7:08 P.M.

Tonight was a rare occasion for Justin, normally if he wanted a drink, he’d have in the Lucky 38 cocktail lounge, but tonight, he needed that glitz feel The Strip had, so he had put on a cream white suit jacket and black suit, given to him by The King for aiding Freeside before Mr. House had killed off The Kings, a thing Justin still lamented to this day, but he was glad that Rex was saved if nothing else. His feet clicked on the old cement as he walked across the street to The Tops to relax with a glass of wine and a little dinner. He didn’t normally leave the Lucky 38, but when he did, his favorite places were The Ultra Luxe and the poolside of The Tops at night. Something about a bottle of wine and the gentle rush of the water in the pool at night was relaxing. Swank was overly generous to Justin, a thing he never abused or took for granted, but tonight he wanted to call in a favor. Tonight he wanted to be alone with no one but that bottle of wine, maybe two.

After casually greeting the doorman and buying two bottles of wine and a shot glass, he went back to the front door and approached swank, placing his things on the table, he put his hand out to Swank “Hey Swank, how’s business?” Swank cast a sharp and proud grin, “Business is good pal, real good. Especially with all that mess at the dam gone” Justin looked at Swank seriously and asked him in a courteous tone. “Listen, Swank, I know you’ve always been generous to me since I came through here back when Benny was around, and I’ve never taken advantage of that courtesy but can I cash in those chips tonight?” Swank grew a littler nervous “Er, yeah, sure pal what can I do for you?” Justin spoke in a gentle and pleasant tone. “Can you close off the pool area just for tonight? I’ll pay you 5,000 caps from my own reserves.” Swank looked relieved, as though this were a small task, “Yeah sure, I can do that, do you want us to guard the doors to the pool area?”
Justin nodded politely, “That’d be very welcome yes.” With that, he gathered his drinks, his glass, and walked over to the doors of the outdoor pool, people stepping out of his way with respect as he went to the doors. Normally he’d give an ‘excuse me’ or a ‘pardon me’, but tonight he was melting down and needed to cool off.

The stars glittered overhead as Justin slowly downed each glass of wine. He only drank this badly when his conscience was bothering him, and tonight, it was more painful to him than a nest of Cazadore. He was loyal to House and understood Houses reasons for why he does things, but The Kings, he regretted them being slain, not so much all of them, just The King. Then on top of that, he missed his old friends, back during his travels he’d met some great people that helped him along the way. One of them being a man he came to be close friends with before they parted ways, a guy named Arcade Gannon, he was a smart alec of sorts, highly intelligent, a member of the Followers of the Apocalypse, and a former Enclave Citizen. Though they commonly but heads on the road over how Vegas should be cared for, they agreed on a lot, as well as both having a passion for helping others. Together they even helped keep Hoover Dam from the Legions hooves, after House took over, Arcade left, and he hadn’t heard from him since. Then there was a ghoul he had rescued. Raul Tejada, a ghoul mechanic he’d rescued at Black Mountain, and over their journey, Justin had come to look up to Raul, and eventually, Raul took off his mechanic suit, and became a Vaquero, the story Raul told about the suit had hit home to Justin, they too, had become close friends. He still heard fleeting rumors of Raul from time to time, not by name, but he’d hear patrons gossip over rumors of a ‘Mexican Ghoul cowboy with a six shooter’. It sounded a little vague, but he’d known it must have been Raul. Between the guilt he felt over The Kings dying, though he had no hand in their deaths, and having no friends anymore, he felt alone. So he had to drink it out. He had his dog Rex, but a dog can’t quite hold a conversation like a know it all or a 200 year old ghoul. No, tonight, he needed to escape his conscience.

He looked into the stars, each star he focused his steadily blurring vision on, the more memories of his adventures he had, memories of helping people along the way, of gunning down men who behaved soullessly, all in all. He was glad he had settled down, but he missed having friends. As he slowly drifted deeper into a drunken daze, he listened to the faint music on The Strip playing, the sounds of various pvssyring over the wall. Then he got up and stumbled towards the pool. Flinging himself in, the chilly water shocking him to a vague sense of sobriety, he could have swam to the top, but as each moment of his life and his journey after taking the Delivery, he could feel the sense of his pain, having been released, taking him into sleep, as he fell into sleep in the water, face down, he felt the sense of being pulled by some force. Then he passed into an alcohol induced slumber.

As he awoke, his eyes feeling as though they’d just burned like eggs on an oven, he noticed he had a long towel draqed over him as a towel. His clothes a little damp, Swank sat at an umbrella covered table, taking a light hit off of a cigarette. “Geez kid, you should be glad I came to give you your dinner or you’d have drowned. What the heck happened out here anyway?” Justin didn’t know why, but he decided to confide in Swank. “Personal demons, loneliness, no friends.” Swank looked at him for a second and said “What do you mean ‘No friends’ kid? You’re the toast of New Vegas, next to Mr. House of course.” Justin looked at Swank a little annoyed “I don’t mean phony friends, I mean real friends, friends like I had back in my travelling days.” He sat up in the deck chair and sighed heavily. Swank got up and gave him that guyish comfort pat on the back, but it felt genuine in gesture “Look, just takes some time getting used to Vegas, I had no real friends apart from the tribe when House got us set up here. Now I make friends time to time, and you will too.” Justin nodded in silence as he watched Swank walk back into the hotel, he didn’t have to worry about Swank telling people what happened, he knew Swank was trustable about these things. Looking at a clock he saw it was half past 10 AM. Normally in a rush about time, at the moment, he stopped himself from fretting, instead he took his time walking to the Lucky 38, where he’d head upstairs, feed Rex a little cooked Brahmin meat, and work on some new paperwork and various contracts. He also needed to prepare for the first tests on the planes at McCarran on the 15th. But today, for the first time in a month, he’d take the day off.

Awesome! I am loving each chapter.

This is my favorite so far.

:clap:

I absolutely love this, it's truly amazing and as I read, I felt myself get more and more into the story. I'll eagerly wait for your next chapter. :happy:

Anything on BoS?

I am following this with a passion. LOVE IT. The House Always Wins...and you did a great job at illustrating New Vegas, both the physical and mental aspects of the Courier, and kept most of the characters as "In Character"(mostly House) as possible.

BoS die with house no matter what you do.

:confused:

Riveting Tale Chap

Sorry Semper Fi, but the BoS canonically die if you side with House, and I'm trying hard NOT to retconn anything X_X

@kjdanext- Wait, Did you just Britishly tell me Cool Story Bro? XD
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So here is chapter 5, this one is a doozy, but I felt if it was short, it would not do the story much justice. I'm hoping it turned out alright. I'm not really one to brag, but I think this one was the best yet
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Chapter 5: Humanities Renewal on Ancient Wings


February 15th, 2282

5:00 A.M.

The television set in Justin’s living room of the Lucky 38 flickered in black and white as he lay on the cream white couch, watching old Pre-War movies, shows, and news programs on Holotape. A show Justin had really come to enjoy was ‘The Adventures of Captain Cosmos’. Mr. House didn’t understand why Justin had come to enjoy such, as he called it, ‘childish and meaningless’ shows, saying how there were far more important things to do with ones time. But when Justin was officially off the clock, this was his drug; he came to truly adore the Pre-War world for what it was. But looking at the clock above his television set, he heaved a tired sigh and walked over to the television set and pushed to switch to turn it off. He needed to bathe and get ready; for today was a day everyone had been working so hard for.

In the past month in a half, they had accomplished much at McCarran. Using old brick cement, they mended the gaping hole in the north side of the gates of McCarran. After contracting the old NCR quarry workers for their pre-war construction vehicles, they had repaved the asphalt ground of the parking lot and set up various stands, intended to be filled with vendors. The interior, it was so gorgeous even Mr. House was truly appreciative of its renewed splendor. When they first brought Mr. House in after the battle for Hoover Dam was over, he lamented that in the old days it was truly a sight to behold, and how the building had become a hollowed husk of its former days. But, thanks to Michael Angelo’s skill at neon lights, had fixed up some new lights. Now, the street lights in the parking lot and the overhead lights inside were brightly lit, the plane hanging over the main atrium was repainted, a vision and memory of its glory days. The airplanes however, were as stubborn as a Big Horner with a pack on its back. But after two weeks, they managed to get one plane running, they hadn’t tested its flight capabilities, but the fact that it was running brought up the spirits of everyone involved, and though he never said it, Mr. House was proud in his choice of employee. A man who shared his vision for a world anew forged from a world he once knew.

6:57 A.M.

Justin had put on his signature business apparel, a black suit with a red tie with white pinstripes, and his Lucky 38 insignia pin on his left lapel. He looked in the mirror as he parted his hair in the style of his boss (who he tried to emulate at any chance possible)
He greeted the Securitrons outside his elevator; they in turn greeted him back. Strolling along to the LVB Monorail station, he couldn’t help but set his briefcase containing his various documents, pens, and a book or two on the staircase as he sat down on a step to hum along to ‘Hallo Mister X’ playing on the loudspeakers, he had a deep fondness for the song. He was in no rush anyway; the testing didn’t begin until 10 AM. So he decided to by a Nuka-Cola from a vendor and listen away. After the song finished, he finished drinking his soda and threw it into a trash can before entering the Monorail station. The Securitron at the door to the Monorail registered Justin from his facial recognition software, so he didn’t stop Justin, instead greeting him with a ‘Good Morning’. Justin sat on ‘his’ chair on the monorail, it was for some odd reason, particularly more plushy than the other chairs in the small car. He listened to the radio (Which he had personally placed in the car) and listened to Mr. New Vegas giving the morning news. For some reason the ‘click click click’ excited him, like it was only the beginning of revival for humanity. He grumped in his head as he arrived at the McCarran station, his favorite song ‘Love Me as Though There No Tomorrow’ started when the he arrived. Sighing sadly he left the car, hearing Nat King Cole’s crooning voice as the doors shut on the car. Entering the Airport, he was greeted by the Securitron stationed at the door of the Monorail.

His brown and shined dress shoes clicked as he made his way to his office just next to the monorail, before he could get in the door of his office, he heard a “Good Morning sir” from a young man, a boomer, just about his age. “Good morning to you as well James. How is the Aviation team progressing?” The young man named James spoke a little more excitedly, “That’s what I wanted to speak to you about sir, we’re making a few more final adjustments on the navigation systems as well as a few minor tweaks before the testing.” Justin smiled; the Boomers were overjoyed to be working on the planes, and Justin was just as giddy when they reported good news.

Since their last batch of tests on the systems, the only injury reported that wasn’t a small cut was a young man who suffered an electrical burn on his leg when a stray live wire touched him. He recovered with nothing more than a mild feeling of uncomfort in his leg for a few days, apart from that, no deaths, no killings, no anything. All beautiful news in his ears, the best news was that since the deaths of the 4 major Fiend leaders, the Fiends were either integrating into normal life, or being executed, very few were sane anymore due to the brain damage most of them suffered, leaving them feral husks of men and women, so most had to be killed, but the minority of sane fiends that surrendered served jail time, they wont be out until October roughly. Not that it mattered to him, if they lived, they were lucky, if not, karma got them right back for their sins.

9:30 A.M.

Justin looked at his Pre-War wristwatch and saw that it was thirty minutes until show time, he was eager, as he sat in the cafeteria and ate a late breakfast, and he grinned as he overheard one of the building mechanics from Freeside talking to a Boomer, “Are you excited about the tests?” He heard the Boomer speak in an eager tone “Oh yes, I can’t wait to head out to the runway and see if that airplane will fly.” The Freesider said disappointedly “I wish we didn’t have to work man, I really want to see if that behemoth will take off”, to which Justin cleared his throat and spoke to the man, “I thought you heard the news? I gave express permission for all employees to have the hour off so they can either go on break or watch the tests, but in this day and age, I’d hope they’d watch the plane, the plane is by far a more momenumental thing to see occur.” The elderly man smiled and told Justin “Really boss? We get to watch them too? This is going to be amazing.” Justin smiled and raised an eyebrow “Amazing? That’s not even the beginning of how great this will be.” He stood up and brushed his suit jacket a little. “Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I must head out to the tarmac and meet with Loyal.”

9:57 A.M.

Justin walked with Loyal to the control tower, his sunglasses on, as it was incredibly bright, in his mind it was a metaphor for the road being paved for humanities rebuilding. Before entering the tower, Justin and Loyal spoke to the pilots who had flown the B-29 during the Battle, giving strict instructions to the men. “Now listen men, we’ve put a lot of love into refurbishing these old airplanes. But be warned, I don’t know how much power from those Fission Batteries those will take, so for the sake of safety, do NOT attempt to fly any further than where we tell you to. We’ve already spoken to Nellis; they will not fire at the plane. That will be your destination. I want you to take this aircraft, fly it towards Callville Bay and swing her around to Nellis. Do you gentlemen understand your orders?” The pilots, almost militarily, stood at attention like Pre-War soldiers and said “Yes Sir.” and ran for the airplane so they could sail it onto the runway.

As Justin and Loyal made their way to the top of the control tower, Justin took Loyal aside and asked a little worried, “Do you think this will work? We’ve put so much into this.” Loyal took in a deep breath and said “Well, I don’t know, but we got that ol’ B-29 up and running, and that thing is over three hundred years old, and besides, I’ve got my best pilots and repairmen here, we’ve been eating, sleeping, and building that plane. That’s about all we do here, and we like it, and we like our work.” Justin smiled assuredly. He took a sip from a bottle of water at the top and turned on a microphone. “Attention. Attention. All non-pilot personal please exit the runway and stand at least one hundred feet from the runway.” Justin watched as the little specs below did as he told them, jogging off the runway. Loyal gave his pilots the signal to take off, the plane, slowly but surely, edged on out of McCarran, the blades on the engines humming loudly.
Justin, deathly nervous over the success of the take off, crossed his fingers in desperate hope. Pacing ever quickly to the runway, the plane slowly launched into the sky, flying for Callville Bay. He heard faint cheers below, but to him, it was not a success until they returned. The plane wobbled a little close to the ground during take off, but the initial flight was a success. He only hoped that they would return, fearing some crash would occur, he paced the tower, Loyal saying in a concerned tone, “Settle down youngster, burn a hole in them shoes if you keep on.” Justin gave a half laugh nervously, “I know, but I worry for those men’s safety.” Loyal nodded in understanding, “I know kid, but trust me, those boys know what their doing”

After an hour of nervous pacing, Justin looked down below with his binoculars. He could tell they were confused and were losing morale. It was a little after 11:15 and they hadn’t returned. Just as Justin was about to write this off as a failure in his notebook, he heard a very loud roar of cheering. With a leap in his heart, he shot up out of his chair and looked out of the broken window, to his joy; he saw a small green dot in the sky from the northeast. Without even saying anything to loyal, he ran down to the runway barricade where the workers were. As the gargantuan faded green plane landed gently on the runway, Loyal shouted loudly to the crowd “See, I told you my boys knew what they were doing”. As they shut the planes engines off, some of the boomer technicians rushed an old platform steps ladder to the side of the plane. The pilots leaped out with grins wider than the Great Divide. Justin and all the others ran up to the pilots. They shook his hand firmly; Justin turned around and announced loudly “Gentleman, I think we can safely mark this as a success!” He took pride in seeing the unification of so many people under one cause, cheering and throwing their hats into the sky.

12:30 P.M.

As everyone sat around the airport idly chatting excitedly about watching the airplane take off and return. Justin shut the door of his office, Loyal and the other pilots sitting in plush Pre-War chairs. “So gentlemen, how was the flight?” The young pilots eagerly started talking, “It was great, we flew over Lake Mead and turned to Nellis, and we landed and let the others back home see the plane and all the work we did into fixing it up. However, we did notice one problem. That small flight drained around 0.31% of the power from three fission batteries.” Justin gave a slight frown, “I’m a little disappointed in that, but we can work on finding out what’s taking up that much power. But that can start tomorrow morning; in the meantime, we’ll shut down work for the day. Come with me you guys. Justin walked over to an old intercom and announced to the airport, “Attention all personnel, please report to the atrium at once.”

Justin stood on the balcony of the atrium, Loyal and the pilots by his side, the Pre-War plane just overhead. As everyone had finished gathering, Justin spoke with a very eager tone on his face. “Ladies and Gentlemen. For the past few months, we have all been working vigorously to get this airport up and running. Our work is from complete. But today and tonight, I want you all to have 50 caps and a pass to visit The Strip tonight. Work of today will be placed on hold, and a party just for you fine ladies and gentlemen will be held in the Presidential Suite of The Tops Casino. You are not forced to go, but that will be the main party. Don’t party too much though, as we will resume work tomorrow.” Once more, the crowd cheered and rushed to the monorail station eager to see what The Strip was like; Justin had grabbed his hat and briefcase and went quickly to ‘his’ chair before it was taken.

8:15 P.M.

Mr. House was very pleased with Justin’s report, though not necessary as everyone on The Strip could see the plane leave McCarran, even Mr. House. “I’m very pleased to see you’ve made such great strides to reignite humanity, but I’d think it would be rude to hold a party, and not even mingle with the guests.” Justin took a small drink from his glass of wine. “I merely wrote up and signed contracts and paperwork, and directed them. The Boomers and Freesiders did all of the physical labor. I think it’s only fair after they have done so much, they experience a night on the town. I gave them all 50 caps and a passport, but I’m sure we’ll see a lot more than 50 caps being spent by most of them, only the party is on me, not the chips. It’s fair they be incentivized properly for all their hard work sir.” Mr. House said in a sheepish tone “Oh come now Justin, you’re always so coy about accepting praise.” Justin grinned a little “I’m not being coy Mr. House; I just don’t want to improperly take credit that isn’t solely mine.”

Everyone at the party was having a good time, playing pool, listening to Radio New Vegas, including Mr. New Vegas praising the workers from McCarran, and drinking as much as they could and eating as much as they could; every meal and drink in the suite was complimentary tonight. Yet, they noticed that Justin, the man who directed them in their work, was not at the party. The figured he was busy with paperwork. But in truth, Justin was sitting in his living room in the Lucky 38, watching Pre-War shows on Holotape, and playing with Rex. Tonight, he felt this was their night, not his.
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Love it! Can't wait for the next installment!