A mans story, as do many others, start and end in quick succession. One man's story in particular ends very soon. But not before he accomplishes something great. Something that every man would be envious of for years to come. Everyone in themselves has the ability to do something great. Something truly magnificent, if the so desire. Very few actual follow through. That's why this man, Victor Creed, is a true inspiration. For he accomplished so much, is so little time. He travelled a full lifetime, in a matter of months.
Hot days and long sleepless nights. Constant fear of death. Disorder, dishonesty and Disease. The mojave wasteland is in a state of complete disrepair. The Legion, constantly harassing the NCR for control of land and the Hoover Dam. With the troops being pulled out to the frontlines there's no one to stand watch and keep control around the towns and settlements. Victor Creed was born into a world before the Legion. Before the Disorder and Disease. A world where anyone could life their life fully. Make a living. Die content. Even in a nuclear wasteland where a roach infestation is a big problem. And i mean big, both metaphorically and literally. Victor grew up on a small ranch just outside Freeside. His father owned and ran the ranch. Raising Brahmin and selling their products to general goods traders inside freeside, and the adult Brahmin to travelling merchants.
Victor often went into freeside to try and play with the other kids. But they were never interested. They would push him, punch him, steal from him and bully him till he left. But he did have one friend inside the walls. An old drunk man who had no home. He would always take the man some leftover food and supplies that his father gave to take to him. He would take Victor and trips around freeside and teach him about it's history. And every so often they went right up to the large gates that stood in front of the Lucky 38 Casino and the New Vegas Strip. From 6 years old, when Victor was allowed to go to freeside alone for short visits, he and the old drunk were best friends. And it was a week after his 11th birthday that his only true friend, was found shot dead after some NCR rangers had enjoyed a night at the bar and shot him, thinking they were "getting rid of the worlds dirt". This sent Victor is a very heavy depression. He'd spend endless nights in his room. His mother and father wouldn't hear from him for days on end. This went on till the day of the 3rd year anniversary of the man's death. 14 years old at this stage, he was well old enough to hold a gun and keep it controlled. So he went out, with his father. Both had caravan shotguns in hand. To go hunting. For mole rats and radroaches. They even came across the very occasional Cazador. And as the days, months, years went by, his father taught him everything he knew. Shooting, tracking, fishing, basic repairing. And at home his mother taught him cooking, and sewing. He had a wide range of skills to help him lead a very successful life.