Victor Creed

[Victor Creed]

Hi, I'm Mike and this is one of my own characters for the game, Sabretooth, a canon; I'm going to see if I can’t get some fun threads started. I’ve been RPing for a long time, but am very relaxed about it, I get along with most people, so here’s hoping I’ll get along with you (whoever is reading this.)

Player name: Mike

Contact Info: AIM (food with sauce) Yahoo (Mikesicles) MSN ([e-mail]) email (same as MSN) or just buzz me right here on the board, PM or open-thread, either or, I'm almost always on AIM too if you want to chat or need to ask anything.

Basic Character Information

I’ve always been a huge fan of Sabretooth, even his old stuff in Iron Fist. This is an AU Sabretooth, I'm making him younger so he can hang around with the Brotherhood.

Type: Canon, AU.

Full name: Victor Creed

Goes by: Vic, Victor, Creed

Code name(s)/Alias(es): Sabretooth

Gender: Male

Age/Birth date: 19 / 3rd October

Place of birth: Northern Washington

Hometown: N/A

Height: 6'6

Weight: 320lbs

Hair: Blonde

Eyes: Amber

Education: Victor has had no formal education.

Occupation: None

Family: Mr. and Mrs. Creed, Deceased. Victor’s biological mother was killed by her husband, Victor’s step-father. Victor’s biological father’s name and whereabouts are unknown, but it is believed that Victor killed him at some point before joining the Brotherhood. Victor’s step-father had several children though none were biologically related to Victor. All of them are deceased, many were killed by Victor himself. Also it is quite likely Victor has several illegitimate children, but Victor has never made any effort to chase them up or even learn their names.

Criminal record/citizenship: Victor is a citizen of the United States. He does possess a criminal record, and it is extensive, with a range of outstanding warrants against his name for diverse crimes, ranging from assault to murder. As a result of this Victor tends to live 'off the grid.'

Affiliation: Brotherhood

General Appearance: Victor is a big guy, that’s one of the first things people notice about him; he’s big, tall, broad, hairy and mean; those are the second and third things people tend to notice about him. He’s hairy, and he looks mean. His shitty clothes and long, dirty blonde hair have, on occasion, had him mistaken for a hippy, but only from behind and from a distance, as anyone able to him clearly would be unlikely to consider him anything but a criminal, and a violent criminal at that. It’s not that he gets around with big dollar-sign bags full of swag or anything; the problem is effort. Victor’s appearance has no effort invested in it, his hair is rarely brushed or tidy, and never styled and occasionally not even washed, he gets around in torn, faded pants and scuffed, dirty combat boots with frayed up, mismatched laces. Most of his shirts are tank style muscle shirts, or fairly plain, and as with his other clothes are all in varying states of disrepair, frayed edged and rips abound. Occasionally Victor will wear a shirt with buttons, but most of them are missing some or all of their buttons, though he rarely tries to do them up anyway. If he is really in the mood to try, he’ll pull his hair back, and that’s about it.

Beyond clothing there isn’t much to the way Victor looks. That is to say, there is little animation or variation in his expressions and posture; as said he is tall, and he possesses quite an impressively shaped figure with classically broad shoulders, a tapered muscular chest and a long, lean lower torso. Most of his muscle crowds about his powerful shoulders and upper arms, and his legs are comparably a little on the slender side. Usually Victor holds himself upright, with excellent posture, although it does more to make him seem intimidating than upstanding given the way he presents himself in every other area. Facially he could objectively be called handsome, with symmetrical features, good cheekbones, a strong jaw and largely clean, masculine features all in all, but his face is too twisted up with aggressiveness, and Victor lacks the simple charm of people who smile easily, and who’s features make them seem open and approachable; he is the opposite. Victor does not shave often and usually has dark, scruffy growth around his jaw and chin, making him seem all the more unsavoury.

Lastly he is largely unable to hide the outward signs of his mutation; Victor’s teeth and claws are unusual and spotted by most who spend time with him. With more, and larger canines people often get the feeling there is something odd about him when they see him talking, although not everyone puts their finger on the cause immediately, and then of course there are his claws. It is not surprising that, while obvious, these are not spotted by everyone, after all people do not often look at the hands of other people unless there is some reason to, but where they to, say, see him handling something, eating, or shake hands with him it is unlikely this is something even fairly vacuous people could miss. Thankfully neither of these things immediately scream mutant, and Victor is largely just considered to have some kind of deformity in regards to these unique features. He does little to hide them.

Uniform: Victor has no uniform, per-say. Being a member of the Brotherhood, Magneto has not supplied him with any kind of costume to wear when on missions, but for the most part if Sabretooth should go out for the purpose of committing crimes or using his powers he tends to dress in standard civvies, albeit usually with a somewhat military flavour, neutral colored fatigue-style pants and a tank-top being common along with a pair of knock-off high-top combat boots. The thing is you could easily find Victor wearing such an outfit when not on a mission.

Personality: Aggressive and violent are two words that characterize Victor’s personality very well. Even the positive aspects of his character can be described as violent or aggressive; decisiveness and assertiveness in particular. Pride is a motivator for Sabretooth. While it does not concern him whether or not people think he is good or bad, interesting or otherwise he is made uncomfortable by being thought vulnerable and will go to great lengths for his reputation. In other words he is protective of the people around him, but through no noble aspiration on his part. Impulse is what drives Victor; his violent life having left him fatalistic and jaded, he has no fear or uncertainty to waylay him. When Victor feels like doing something he does it, and given the often negative nature of his impulses this commonly leads him into trouble. There is very little restriction placed by himself on his behaviour, and he has almost no insecurities that prevent him from doing violence to others on a whim, he is intimidating, erratic and often cruel as a result; extending throughout, Victor is no more pleasant to speak to than to fight with, he rarely has anything pleasant to say about anyone, or any thing for that matter; it is a fact he is, by and large, happier to give bad news than good news, more at home criticizing than praising, better able to turn people against one another than to foster co-operation indeed the primary sum of his contributions to any social venture must generally be calculated in the negative.

One of the only truly outstanding things about Victor is how lazy he can be, as it does not fall in-step with the rest of his behaviour, but nevertheless it is present and so, Victor at times abstains from all activity, lounging and lazing about, drinking and smoking, refusing to do anything constructive or otherwise, even refusing to do things that would benefit himself. At these times he seems almost docile, but it is a question of comparison; Victor is still irascible and, by normal standards, easily provoked when in these moods and it could not be said objectively that he is ever truly relaxed or calm, but to those who know him it would seem as though he is. Not that anyone really knows him as he is completely unwilling to form anything more than a superficial bond with people based on commonality. If someone lives with him they are his ’friend’, but it is a question of proximity and he does not actually treat them as a friend nor does he even necessarily like them. Victor rarely absorbs enough about other people to even be able to make a judgment on their character. He thoroughly alienates himself, and cares little for how this bears on his life, Victor is - to put it simply - a loner.

As said, pride is a motivator for Sabretooth and while, indeed, it does not concern him whether or not people think he is good, or bad, interesting or otherwise he is made uncomfortable by being thought vulnerable and occasionally this even means taking up the cause of those around him, for if one of his ‘friends’ is wronged then Victor may feel it reflects badly on him if the person cannot achieve satisfaction on their own. Of course Victor is not at all times some kind of Freudian beast and he is capable of acting in a civilized fashion, broadly speaking, but this requires a motivator stronger than his negative impulses. He can be pleasant, he doesn’t try to kill everyone who crosses his path, he doesn’t hate everything. A fear, perhaps his only fear, of being seen as weak keeps these civilized moments few and far between, although Victor has been known to stabilize his behaviour for the benefit of people he likes; keeping himself from going too far too often, avoiding them when his mood will not allow for friendly discourse and so on in an effort - a fairly Spartan effort but an effort nonetheless - to make a positive impression. Victor has only truly ever connected with one person in his entire life, and then he was a child, and now he wants to kill the very same person; it is this sort of life-experience that has handicapped Victor socially, but few would, in light of his behavior, offer him sympathy, and he would not appreciate it even so.

He’s just a jerk, really, a violent and destructive person, yet he is - for all of it - seemingly quite happy. Victor gets a kind of self-satisfied enjoyment out of living life on his own unreasonable and morally bankrupt terms, he likes having people afraid of him, he likes the rush of getting into fights and the perversity of doing cruel violence. This is why he will never change. But there is something else in Victor Creed, beyond that, a truly mad, animal core; he has experienced and done terrible things, he has suffered: Victor is insane. There is a tormented, bloodthirsty madness in his head that has been pushed aside and confused into other things, surrounded and buried by a complex matrix of self-deceit, hypocrisy, psychosis and paranoia literally festering inside his brain. Whenever Victor is sub-consciously driven to process the reality of who he is he invariably undergoes explosively violent, disorienting catharsis; a state of malevolence beyond mere cruelty is the product, and in this state Victor is degenerate, capable of anything.

Powers: Victor Creed, effected by evolutionary mutation, possesses a functional X-gene; as a member of homo sapiens-superior he possesses certain fundamentally inhuman abilities that are unique to his physiology; as a result of these changes he can regenerate damaged areas of his cellular structure at a heightened rate and in addition can even self-repair completely destroyed parts of his body, regenerating tissue and replacing damaged organs to an extent surpassing the abilities of most extant terrestrial species. In addition to this rapid healing factor his senses of sight, hearing, smell, and taste are superhumanly acute, he possesses heightened physical strength compared to a normal human along with pronounced, highly durable canine teeth and partially retractable talon-like nails.

As a result of his healing factor Victor does not scar, and due to the sheer rapidity of this fast-healing he is virtually immune to most poisons and drugs including the fatigue poisons produced by the human body giving him super-human endurance. The manner in which Victor’s body deals with what, in an ordinary human, would be a critical state is functionally different as a critical state for a normal human simply is not a critical state for Sabretooth; his body can replace essentials, such as plasma, at a greater rate than ordinary humans making him resistant to bleeding, hypo perfusion, hypoxia, shock-induced cardiac arrest, and other medical conditions effecting humans who have suffered extreme physical injury. His skeleton is heavier and denser than that of a normal human, his claws and teeth are strong enough to rend through human bone, and it supports a musculature which displays a kind of advanced hypertrophy, meaning Victor’s muscle volume is actually of greater mass, and subsequently gives him greater strength, than human muscle-mass of equal volume.

All of Victor’s senses have been enhanced by his mutation. His hearing is extraordinarily acute, his sense of taste can detect one part of foreign matter in ten thousand, his vision is less effected by low-light conditions than a normal persons and is particularly acute at tracking moving objects, but perhaps Victor’s most impressive sensory talents derive from his olfactory system; his highly developed sense of smell and memory allow him to detect and track scents over eight hours old at a ratio of roughly twenty parts per million, identifying these scents even if he had not been exposed to them for several months.

Weaknesses: While Victor’s body can create blood and regenerate tissue and bone very rapidly, it needs to come from somewhere and just as a normal human must, he must sustain his internal processes through eating and drinking. His ability to supply his body with essential materials does not effect the speed at which he heals, but the amount which he can. Of course this places a practical upper-limit on his ability to heal himself without rest and nourishment; there is only a certain amount of energy the body can store after all and repeatedly sustaining injury will eventually wear Victor out. His heightened senses suffer from a number of weaknesses as well, listed here, his eyesight, while excellent in low-light conditions; superior to a human’s for tracking movement and discerning between large shapes, able to better separate figures and shapes in foreground and background actually lacks the same level of detail which a human picks up in similar conditions. He could not, for example, differentiate between two coins of equal size whereas, even in dark conditions, a normal human could if they were close enough, on the other hand a normal human could not tell if the same coins were on a distant table, being unable to differentiate the low silhouette of the coins from the table surface itself, whereas Victor could. His hyper-acute hearing is struck lame by the fact that Victor has a fixed-ear, a normal human ear, and is unable to rapidly pin-point the direction and distance of a given sound. For example if Victor were in a dark cave, he would be able to hear the heart-beat and breathing of anyone else occupying that same space provided they were not too distant, but by listening alone he could not pin-point with reliable accuracy where or how far away the other person was.

Regarding his senses of taste and smell Victor can be distracted by certain beacons. Certain strong odours, and natural odours, will draw his senses to them. Although this weakness can be overcome if Victor is concentrating on the thing he wishes to smell, or taste, it has a good chance of eliminating his ability to sense certain things in a more casual capacity, that is, lowering his chance to pick up on useful, important or merely interesting information he was not actively seeking in the first place. Also while Victor is much stronger than a normal man his own size, he is not superhumanly strong; furthermore his strength is not matched by his physical durability, and he has no ability to create his own anchorage. Victor could not, for example, lift a car and although it would be feasible for him to lift a smaller object of similar weight he would not be able to do so without hurting himself, potentially bursting many blood vessels or even breaking his own bones.

Power Potential: Given the physical nature of Victor's powers it is impossible for him to develop them further.

Skills & Talents: Victor has almost no formal education, and by any ones measure there are many things he does not know. His academic intelligence is not poor, he does not lack the ability, but Victor has never been schooled, taught, indeed he never attended school and was given only a brief education by a group of men who were themselves far from geniuses. As a result Victor is only semi-literate, able to read simple instructions and descriptions, albeit slowly and he cannot really read without forming the wounds with his mouth or putting his finger to the paper. Victor can write, but his writing is not particularly legible and is replete with consistent mistakes and improperly structured grammar. The best he us able to do putting such skills to use is in the area of very simple correspondence; writing down a phone number, for example, or reading a similarly simple note or reminder. Numerologically Victor has a somewhat innate understanding of mathematics, as most people do, but he cannot vocalize many of the concepts he understands; Victor can perform enough basic math in his head to get by, counting how many people are at a party, adding up simple sums of money, working out how much of something to purchase by weight and what the cost will be, etc but he can do little more. Life as a criminal vagabond has left Victor with a number of seedy talents the likes of which come in quite useful given his lifestyle; these are not skills, per-say, they are not quite talents but rather they take the shape of useful scraps of knowledge or certain practises which can yield good results. Victor can, for instance, do quite allot with cars, prying a locked cars windows or boot open, changing the battery himself, or hot-wiring an old vehicle though for all that he does not really have much theoretical knowledge about cars and engines. Victor has been a thief for a long time and has much practical knowledge regarding theft; breaking into houses without doing excess damage or making too much noise, often knowing where people hide their valuables, subduing guard-dogs or household pets, etc. Victor is reasonable knowledgeable about criminal matters in general, able to, generally, find people who will purchase stolen goods, drug dealers, de-serialized firearms, or sell the same items. Lastly in regards to having lived a life of crime Victor has a fair practical understanding of the law as it applies to him; this is to say that he is very well aware of what the police’s powers enable them to do, when he can refuse to be searched, and so on. Victor has a solid understanding of this, the criminal mindset in general and ‘prison-politics’ so that while he is academically not very intelligent, he has a great deal of intelligence in other areas; being ‘street smart’ as it were.

Victor is a natural when it comes to hurting people, and it’s a talent he has done his best to tend and nurture. He lacks any formal training, but substantial real-world experience has left him with many practical skills using his claws, fists and feet to take people apart and in addition a mixture of natural aggressiveness, pride and fearlessness have combined to simply give Victor confidence, fighting spirit, a kind of élan. All in all he is a very deadly hand to hand combatant. Although in his early life he learned the value of weapons; anything from a handgun to a heavy rock, and these skills he still carries with him Victor has come to rely primarily on his own gifts when it comes to fighting; by far his razor-sharp bone claws are his favourite weapon and Victor wields them with a skill and aggressiveness born of many years practise and experience. As a combatant however Victor should never be underestimated whether armed or unarmed; regardless of the oddity of his armament, he is unlikely to bring a weapon to a fight unless he has some plan for its use, and, indeed, knows how to use it effectively; so that while it is rare for Victor to ever carry or brandish a weapon he has been known to improvise at times. With regard to firearms Victor is quite comfortable around them, and relatively knowledgeable in regards to them; he has some experience in gun-play, but he is no marksman. Victor prefers to get up-close to his opponents, and with this said he uses guns primarily in a tactical sense, spraying bullets to cover himself so he may advance or retreat, rather than attempting to injure people with the rounds themselves. It should be noted here also that Victor has very little experience with long-guns; rifles and the like, and most weapons generally reserved for hunting, target shooting, or long-ranged weaponry is fairly well outside his sphere of experience; Victor tends to be more at home with cheap, readily available handguns of the Saturday-Night-Special type; most sawn-off weapons and man-stopping calibres, service pistols and so on, usually high-capacity 9mm automatic pistols, or 45 cal. Through to 357. And the larger gauge shotguns such as 12 and 10. Nevertheless Victor will rarely carry a firearm; he makes use of them in-situ when he can, but he does not keep, save or purchase them and any firearm he takes up will generally be cast aside out of hand once it runs out of ammunition.

Lastly Victor is a highly skilled outdoorsman and survivalist, but it should be noted that these skills he possesses are partly innate and act in concert with his altered physiology and psychology, Victor could, himself, survive in the wilderness for a long time, but not in a conventional fashion such as how a camper or outdoorsman of the normal variety would. Victor’s talents in this area do not apply well to multiple persons; he could not take someone with him into the wilderness and assist them in surviving as a conventional outdoorsman could, as Victor’s means of survival are in many ways applicable only to himself. This is not to say he could not help someone else survive in a wilderness environment; he could, but it would be taxing upon him and upon them, more so than if Victor‘s skills were of the conventional sort. For example Victor is quite capable of hunting animal prey of many varieties, and can happily consume raw meat with little health risk, indeed it is actually beneficial for his health as raw meat contains certain vitamins and other nutritional content which would otherwise be destroyed in cooking yet it is needed by the body to prevent certain deficiencies and other problems. Victor does not require the same level of shelter and protection from the elements as a normal human, nor is he as vulnerable to infection and other hazards. He has a greater sense of awareness in such environments thanks to his senses, which work to keep him safe and give him much useful knowledge about his surroundings, he is naturally more adept at finding his way than normal people, rarely getting lost or confused, and orienteering himself easily by way of certain sensory beacons. Some of his ability to survive in such environments is down to skills he has learned, similar to the skills practised by normal outdoorsmen and the like, but for the most part Victor is more easily able to survive such experiences because he is, quite simply, more at-home in such environments, naturally equipped by way of his mutations to endure their hardships.

History

Victor Creed was born on a desolate farm in northern Washington. His mother was of English decent, hard-working, a pious Christian, stern and like most other immigrants of that era, dirt poor. Victor’s father was a violent drunkard who had quite simply rolled into town one evening and taken a liking to his mother; this union resulted in Victor’s birth and the two living together, though they were not married and as a result they were shunned by the highly religious towns-people who already looked down on Victor’s father for being a nomad and bounty-hunter. When Victor reached the age of five, his father disappeared. Of course, in that time, for people at their economic level, there was no divorce, no courts, no alimony. His father simply left the farm one day and never returned. As a result, the family faced a bleak future. Victor became ‘the man of the house’ and was put to work on the farm from sunup to sundown with very little to show for his labours. During these early years, Victor’s mother was contacted by relatives who lived nearby, and they felt it was not proper for a Godly woman to be bringing up a child on her own; therefore her aunt and uncle arranged for Victor’s mother to be married to a family friend, a widowed man with several young children of his own. So it was Victor went from being the only child, and the man of the farm, so having five elder brothers and one sister. His new father did not appreciate Victor’s existence, indeed, he looked down on him as the ‘scion of the devil’ hinting darkly that he believed Victor’s father had been a wicked man and that these traits had past on to his child. Victor’s mother could not stay the abuse which Victor came to receive at the hands of his siblings and step-father as she was dependant upon his help to survive, and was terrified of being left alone again. Victor later said that his siblings were honest and dedicated farmers, though he had never been. ‘I’ve been a human animal ever since I was born; a violent thief an’ a liar,’ He was said to have once remarked. ‘The older I got the meaner I got.’

‘My brothers took it upon themselves ta’ kick me around whenever they felt like it, and they felt like it pretty regular,’ he claimed. At the age of seven Victor broke into a neighbours home. He stole anything he could get his hands on, including a handgun. He was quickly found out by his brothers, who beat him unconscious. Victor was threatened with being sent to the nearby State Training School, a reform institution for juveniles, and when he attempted to set fire to an outhouse after jamming the door to trap one of his brothers inside, this threat was made good. Luckily Victor’s brother survived this attack, although he was badly burned.

Located in the town of Red Wing, southern Washington, the State Training School contained about 300 boys whose ages varied from ten to twenty. The school population was at the mercy of the jailers who were under little or no outside supervision, a condition that promoted or at least allowed a level of abuse that cannot be imagined today. The admissions log, dated October eleventh, lists Victor’s crime as incorrigibility and the relationship of his parents as quarrelsome. When Victor arrived at Red Wing he was brought into a reception office where a male staff member examined him. The frightened boy was stripped naked and questioned about his sexual practices. The inmates also received Christian training and when they misbehaved or failed to learn the lessons properly, they were attacked by angry, vindictive attendants. Because Victor received little formal education when he lived on the farm, he was unable to read very well. For this he was also beaten regularly. ‘I may not have accomplished much book learnin’ while there,’ He declared later. ‘But I learned ta’ become a first class liar.’ Soon he developed a hatred for the attendants and everything connected to religion, which he saw as the cause of his suffering. ‘I began ta’ hate ’em all, the ones who abused me, then just all of ‘em together; then I began to think that I would have my revenge just as soon and as often as I could injure someone else. Anyone at all would do.’ Around this time Victor began to change, physically, as his mutant physiology began to develop; he grew larger, more physically powerful, he became resistant to the beatings of the staff and his fellow internees. Nevertheless the more beatings he endured, the more hateful he became. He was hit with wooden planks, thick leather straps, whips and heavy paddles. But during all that time, Victor was planning revenge. On the night of July seventh, he prepared a simple device that started a fire after he left the building. The fire quickly consumed the workshop at the school and it burnt to the ground while Victor lay in his bed laughing at the spectacle of sweet revenge.

It was never discovered who started the fire, and soon Victor was on his way out of the horrors of the State Training School. He learned to say the things the staff wanted to hear and when he appeared before the parole board, he convinced them that he was a changed boy and had been reformed by the school. ‘I was reformed all right,’ He said later. ‘I’d been taught by Christians how to be a hypocrite and I had learned more about stealin’, lyin’, hatin’, burnin’, an’ killin’ than I ever would ‘ave on my own without that places help.’ He returned home that winter. His mother saw immediately that Victor had changed. Never an outgoing child even at home, he became more withdrawn, quiet and brooding. But his mother had too many other things to worry about. One of Victors brothers had recently died in a drowning accident and her health was fragile. She had no time for a rebellious child who had a habit of getting into trouble. She may have thought that Victor would eventually work out his own problems. But even at this early age, he felt deep resentment toward his mother.

‘Mother was too dumb to know anything good to teach me,’ he said, years later. ‘There was little love lost. I first liked her and respected her. My feelins’ gradually turned from that ta’ distrust, dislike, disgust… an’ on ta’ outright hatred.’ Victor knew nothing else in his brief life except suffering, beatings and torture. His youthful mind dwelled on things of which most children knew little. ‘I fully decided when I left there just how I would live my life, an’ I made up my mind that I’d rob, burn, destroy an’ kill everywhere I went an’ everybody I could as long as I lived.’ He admitted later. It was not long after this that Victor Creed would be unleashed on the world at large.

At the age of eleven, Victor spent most of his time working the fields on his mothers farm. Envisioning a dismal future of backbreaking labour with no reward, he was becoming more and more quarrelsome and violent. One evening when his brother demanded Victor apologize for having burned him Victor told the older boy that he was sorry, but that he was not sorry for burning him, and only sorry in so far as that his brother was still alive. A brawl ensued and Victor nearly beat his brother to death, but the two were separated by his step-father, who, outraged and disgusted by Victor’s animalistic ferocity proceeded to throw him into the root cellar.

Victor’s highly religious step-father had come to look upon the mutant child as some kind of aberration, a blasphemous and corrupt being; he would refer to Victor as ‘That Devil Child,’ alluding to his canines, his feral claws and Victor’s other mutations as being evidence of a demonic quality. Victor did much to further this opinion by reacting to his father’s abuse in the manner of a wild dog; he had to be muzzled and chained in the cellar lest he bite, scratch and maul those who came down to feed him. Indeed, so savage had Victor become that one evening he strangled one of his brothers with the chain which restrained him to the wall. After this, his step-father’s mood became black, and there was little Victor’s mother could do to prevent events from escalating.

Daily, Victor would be visited, beaten, and have his claws and teeth removed with common tools. This situation continued for months, and Victor suffered through his period in silence, but whenever the opportunity arose he would strike out at his tormentors viciously; indeed, only Victor‘s mother could now approach him without great violence being done and as a result of this it was made her duty to feed him. One evening though when she removed his muzzle Victor proceeded to bite off three of her fingers, swallowing them, this act sent his step-father into a hysterical rage and he left only to return a moment later with an axe. He dragged his wife away, but she pleaded with him not to kill the child; feeling that he had been imposed on them in some jobian test of character by God. He would not listen however and swung to kill the child, but Victor’s mother interposed herself between him and the blow at the last moment. She was struck in the chest and died almost instantly, and Victor’s anguished father was soon to follow, struck down in his torpor by his adolescent son as he fell to his knees.

Finding himself free, Victor proceeded to hunt down his remaining brothers, and though they had not witnessed anything and, indeed, posed no real threat to him Victor murdered them all over the next few weeks. ‘Don’t rightly think I can remember why I wanted ’em dead,’ Victor explained later. ‘Had something’ ta do with loose ends, not wantin’ anybody from my past left, least that’s the notion I’d fixed on back then, as well as I can recall.’ for the next few months, Victor wandered across the Midwest, sleeping in freight cars, riding under the trains and running from the railroad cops, who in many cases were more dangerous than the outlaws. He hunted for food, or stole it whenever he could. While riding a freight train heading west out of Montana Victor came upon four men who were camping in a lumber car. They said they could buy him nice clothes and give him a warm place to sleep. ‘But first they wanted me to do a little something for them,’ Victor recalled years later. He was gang-raped by all four men. ‘I cried, begged and pleaded for mercy, pity and sympathy, but nothing I could say or do helped.’ Victor escaped with his life but the incident utterly destroyed whatever feelings of compassion he had left.

‘I had nothin’ in me but hate when I got off that train,’ Victor said. ‘I revenged myself, then, in a roundabout way.’ Victor’s notion of revenge at this point, his concept of justice was so twisted by his misanthropy that when a young man, near his own age, approached him asking to bum a cigarette Victor beat him to death without a word of explanation. ‘I didn‘t stop beatin on him ‘till I was absolute sure he‘d never get up again, I kept kickin‘ his head ‘til it was fairly cracked open an‘ I could see what I reckon were his brains comin‘ out.’ this act, and the abuse which preceded it were the last straw for Victor’s humanity; haunted by his own burgeoning mutant psychology which railed against his rational mind and sought to replace logical and cohesive thought with the impulses and drives of a wild animal, driven by guilt for the mindless murder of an innocent and by a sense of shame and humiliation for having been so foolish as to allow himself to be victimized, Victor snapped. He underwent a complete psychotic breakdown, fleeing the town in which he had recently arrived for a nearby belt of forest. His memory left him, and even today Victor can remember almost nothing of his life in this period; those memories which come before it, even, are unclear and hazy. Only the most primal recollections remain; the smell of the pitch-black root cellar, his mothers high-pitched, hysterical voice, phrases his father quoted from the bible, grinning, leering faces, and the ever-present darkness. Victor remembers the taste of raw meat and the smell of game-trails; he knows he lived like an animal in the wilderness, he knows something happened to drive him to it, but what it was, he cannot say with surety. For many months Victor lived like an animal, he did not speak, he used no tools, he hunted and caught live game and ate raw meat, he drank from streams and bathed in dust, his clothes were forgotten, and in many ways living like this brought him a measure of peace, a contentedness he had never known before, and only fleetingly since; Victor was in-tune with his animal-self, and he had few worries or cares.

This idyllic period was not to last however and Victor was captured by trappers from the city of Helena; they had been brought in by locals living near the forest he inhabited when Victor’s existence there had become known as local livestock went missing; for this poaching the townsfolk wanted him dead, seeing him as no more than an animal, but the trappers who had captured him fixed a high-price on Victor which the townsfolk could not afford, and so they returned to Helena with him in-tow, their leader being an intelligent fellow who felt this strange young man could be useful in their line of work. The young man who was brought to Helena however was a far cry from the disturbed and frightened child who had fled his own home so many months earlier; at the age of sixteen Victor Creed’s mutation was near fully-developed and his life in the wilderness had left him with an impressive stature; he had the body of a man and weighed nearly two-hundred pounds. Living as an animal had sharpened his mind and senses, and Victor soon garnered a reputation in Helena as a born tracker, a hunter, a heavy who would do anything for money. He had no living family aside from a father who’s whereabouts he did not know, was homeless, bereft of friends or kin, illiterate, unschooled and sought by the police. Victor had murdered several people by this stage in his life and committed numberless lesser crimes; theft, vandalism, arson, assault, and so on, but as nobody knew with certainty who he was, none of these things got in the way.

Helena, Montana, was, at this time, a wide-open town where there was little law enforcement and people settled their own affairs. Populated by Canadian fur traders and hard-as-nails river fishermen, it was not a place for the unwary. Victor was brought to live with the trappers who had caught him, and their leader came to adopt him, after a fashion, treating him with some deference and educating him to a degree even while Victor put his remarkable talents to use for them. They became wealthy, prospering, and Victor at this time received a taste of the good-life which he would go on to desire much more of, but he was violent and difficult to control all the same. His fellow trappers often found themselves caught up in feuds he had started with their competitors, and rarely could Victor go anywhere without taking some violence with him. It seemed to them that he lived for confrontation, that he was constantly testing himself against the world and society at-large to see if he could take more than it could dish out.

The trappers planned to get rid of Victor, but before they could, he was gone. Without any explanation, one day Victor simply left. It was discovered later he had killed a man during a brawl, and it was believed that he had fled to evade justice, but Victor himself remembers this period and does not consider that to be why he absconded, indeed, Victor had for some time been overturning an idea in his mind, and had at last set out to see if he could not make something of it; he planned to find his biological father. This search however was to be postponed, as Victor had stolen a large amount of money from his fellow trappers, so that they had put the law onto him and this time Victor did not flee quickly enough; he was caught even as he ran.

Hands shackled and leg irons firmly attached, Victor Creed was taken into the gloomy confines of Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary for an array of crimes ranging from murder to theft. Prison authorities did not know that he was just only seventeen years old at this time, and Victor he was treated like any other man. Prisoners had to stand in formation every morning regardless of weather. Guards invoked a regimen of strict discipline and mandatory obedience. Victor suffered numerous beatings and soon became desperate to break out. Guards thought nothing of torturing prisoners such as Victor, who’s capacity to absorb punishment was inhuman, since it was the only way they could think of to keep control. Victor was assigned to break rocks in a quarry, which he did for ten hours a day seven days a week. But he grew strong and muscular all the while, planning for the time when he would get out. Day by day, he grew bitter and angry, consumed by vengeance, waiting for the day when he would roam free again.

‘When I was discharged from that prison I was the spirit of meanness personified.’ Victor remarked later. ‘I was a pretty bad guy before I went there, but when I left there, all the good that may have been in me had been kicked and beaten out of me.’
At Leavenworth, any semblance of hope that he may have had to grow into a mature, productive adult citizen was effectively destroyed. Years of abuse and physical torture had taken their toll. There was no family who cared about him, no real home and no prospects for the future. He had probably never known a woman's touch in his life to that point and never evolved as a man in natural way. ‘All that I had on mind at that time was a strong determination to raise plenty of hell with anyone and everybody in every way I could,’ he said.

For some time Victor drifted across Kansas, Texas, through the Southwest and into California. He was searching for his father, but also during this time he began to commit more crimes, and to behave in a more destructive manner. Victor destroyed things for no reason, he started fires, he began vicious fights and left his opponents horribly injured and disfigured for almost no reason; he was caught many times and jailed, but Victor had become a skilled escapist and broke free from jails in Rusk, Texas, and The Dalles, Oregon.

He rode the trains over vast distances and spent time in Washington, Idaho, Oregon and Utah, cutting a path of destruction across the country in a methodical, relentless way that kept police hot on his trail but a step behind. At this time his favourite pass-time was to mutilate people; men, women, children, anyone who he had reason to become angry with, for whatsoever slight however petty. Victor would beat people until they could no longer resist and then using his razor-sharp claws he would mutilate their faces in such a way as to ensure they lived, but that they would be horribly scarred and disfigured. While he was in a boxcar with two other bums, he saw an opportunity to re-live his old humiliation, but a railroad cop found his way into the boxcar and tried to extort money from the men or he would throw them off the train. Victor had other ideas. He robbed the cop of his watch and whatever money he had and then forced the other two men to rape him at gun-point. Victor then threw all the men off the train.

Tempered by years of drinking, beatings, imprisonment and living on the road like an animal, Victor had evolved into a hardened criminal. He was also physically big, square shouldered and muscular. His long hair and roguish looks attracted some women, but he never displayed much interest in the opposite sex, and even those who found him attractive would be frightened by his eyes; they had a strange, sullen quality which unnerved people, made them wonder what was behind that cold, barren stare. One day Victor came across three of the four men who had so many years before raped him in a lumber-car, or at the very least he was convinced that they were the same men. Victor was riding in a box-car with them and he inquired if they had ever raped a man on a train before, one of the men said he had done it several times, but the other two made no answer. The vocal fellow then asked Victor if he wanted to find a boy to rape, and Victor said he would, while the two moved over the length of the train he inquired as to where the fourth man was and was told that he was in Leavenworth Penitentiary on a charge of burglary. Victor told the man, with that, that he had something to show him and his friends and they returned to the boxcar where Victor proceeded to murder all three of them. When the train arrived at it’s destination police were called, and they entered the boxcar to find Victor sleeping peacefully within, but the car itself had become an abattoir and was strewn with human remains. Victor surrendered himself without any struggle.

In a number of weeks Victor had pled guilty to all charges brought against him, however in that time he had managed to become transferred to Leavenworth Penitentiary, the prison he hated so passionately; only to brutally murder the last of the four rapists once he had identified him. Even so; Victor is not entirely certain that these four men are the same individuals as three of them maintained their innocence right up to the end and only one admitted that he had ever raped a boy on a train. Nevertheless Victor felt avenged to some degree, and later he attempted to break out of Leavenworth; wanting once again to return to the search for his biological father. However Victor was caught attempted to break out and received sixty-one days in solitary where he groped around in the dark and ate cockroaches for food. Now feuding bitterly with the Warden Victor helped another inmate, Frank Schlicting, escape from the prison. Schlicting later accidentally ran into the Warden in a nearby town and shot him; a deed which Victor declared he will pay back at some point. The killing sparked a public outcry however and conditions at the Penitentiary became even worse for Victor; with escape now appearing almost impossible. ‘Schlicting mighta made things worse fer me by killin’ the Warden, but he needed ta die, and Frank killed him so I reckon I’ll owe him one if I ever see ‘im again,’ Victor declared.

Already Victor had made several escape attempts by cutting through the bars in his cell; using his razor-sharp claws to slowly dig the bars out. The Prison staff had attempted to stop Victor from doing this by having his claws removed by a doctor, but they always grew back, and Victor’s ability to retract them meant he managed to hide them from the guards long enough for his escape to be finally made good.

He broke into a house in the nearby town of Tangent stealing clothes, food, money and a loaded .38 calibre handgun. A few days later a local cop recognized Victor and tried to arrest him. Creed pulled out his gun and opened fire on the sheriffs deputy but he ran out of ammunition and was captured. On the way to the jail; he tried to grab the cops gun and a fierce struggle took place inside the police car. The rear windows were kicked out and several shots were fired through the roof as the men battled for the officers handgun. It was a fight Victor should easily have won, but when other officers came to assist one of them stunned him with a tazer and, unable to resist, Victor was beaten bloody and unconscious. He was brought back to Salem where his teeth and claws were removed before he was brought back to Prison and dumped into solitary, but not for long. Incredibly, Victor escaped from Prison again. Once he was back in the general population Victor stabbed himself with a hacksaw blade which he found during work detail; his mutation healing over the wound so that no guard knew he had it inside him as he returned to his cell. Digging it out with the stump of his claws he used it to saw through the window bars, and jumped down off the prison walls. Frantic guards fired hundreds of rounds at the fleeing convict, and Victor was hit several times before he made it into the woods and disappeared from sight. Victor spent a few days in the wilderness while healing, but his mutant gifts allowed him to stay on his feet while patrols canvassed the area; searching for him in vain. It had become evident at this point that, despite his injuries, Victor was unlikely to be caught by any such efforts; he was at-home in such terrain, and even the local volunteers who knew the area were baffled by the woodcraft of their quarry as indeed, by this point in his life, Victor had become an outdoorsman with few equals. He later hopped a freight train heading east and left the Pacific Northwest forever. ‘I still wanted to find my dad,’ Victor declared later. ‘But I was done with that place, they knew me too well there, there was no way I could hide or lay up without gettin’ spotted, unless I kept t’ tha’ backwoods were I wouldn‘t find nothin’, and I was sick of havin‘ my ass thrown in jail.’

In Summer, in the city of New Haven Victor found a house located at 113 Whitney Avenue that looked fat and ready for the taking. It was an old three-story colonial, the home of an aristocrat, he hoped. He broke in through a window and began to ransack the bedrooms. Inside a spacious den, Creed found a large amount of jewellery, bonds and a .45 calibre automatic handgun. The name on the bonds was Erik M. Lensherr. After stealing everything he could carry, Victor escaped through the same window and hit the streets carrying thousands of dollars worth of stolen property. He made his way to the Lower East Side of Manhattan where he sold most of the jewellery and stolen bonds. With that money Victor bought a yacht, the Akista. He registered the boat under a false name, and sailed the boat up the East River, eastward through the Long Island Sound past the south shore of the Bronx, the City of New Rochelle, Rye and onto the rocky coast of Connecticut. Along the way, he broke into dozens of boats on their moorings, stealing booze, guns, supplies, anything he could get his hands on.

‘My boat was full of stolen stuff,’ He said later. ‘But it was an old racket, and I knew I’d worn out my welcome with the Yacht owners, so I planned ta change venue and make off with what I’d taken,’ he sailed down the coast of New Jersey with two crew whom he had hired in New York these men Victor needed to help him sail the vessel as he was not experienced with such matters; until he reached Long Beach Island, where he planned to stay a while. Because they had seen his stolen goods Victor intended to kill them both on arriving but a huge gale hit and the Akista was smashed to pieces against the rocks. Victor swam to shore and barely escaped with his life, as did his two crew; making it to the beaches. ‘Where they went I don’t know or care,’ Victor said later. ‘But I bet they never realized how lucky they were.’

This delay allowed someone to track Victor down, however, and it was not the police. Indeed, it was a man whom Victor did not know at all, though he had robbed his home earlier in his career as a wandering thief. Erik Lensherr, a mutant, had taken an interest in Victor ever since reading about the ’feral inmate’ of Leavenworth Prison and had attempted to track him down for some time, but to no avail however when Victor burgled Erik’s own home he was then able to track him. Though Erik nearly lost Victor as the feral took to the water, he was able to track him down in the delay which stopped Victor dead after the Akista was destroyed, so that Magneto’s agents finally pinned him down on the Connecticut coast, and Victor was invited to meet Erik himself. Victor was not at first interested in Erik’s proposal, his plan, or his goal. The idea that mutants were superior to normal humans Victor felt was true, but he had no interest in politics, or in changing the world, fighting for a cause, Victor was only interested in his own goals, his own ambitions and his own needs; not those of others, or even of others like him. Nevertheless Erik was a persuasive speaker, and he had much to offer, many resources, and Victor knew that without Erik’s help there were many things he would never be able to do. Erik offered to track down Victor’s father for him, for example, and he offered Victor a measure of freedom from legal scrutiny, he would shield him from becoming imprisoned again if Victor worked for him, he would pay him well and treat him fairly. Victor, who knew so little of the good things in life was really unable to refuse such an offer. It may be that he thought to himself he would take as much as he could, for as long as he could, and then disappear the moment it suited him, but deeper down Victor truly did long to be accepted somewhere and to have some place in the world, to put down roots and be a part of something.

Victor did not know why he had searched so long for his father, but when Erik told him where the man could be found Victor was swift to go and meet him. At the station in town Victor waited, having phoned the man. ‘An old man came bumming around,’ he said. ‘At first I thought it was a hobo, but then I recognized him, so I went and got a rock.’ Victor killed him, bashing his head in. ‘His brains were coming out of his ears when I left him and he will never be any deader.’ Victor is not sure why he did this. ‘I had stuffed down his throat several sheets of paper out of a magazine. Don’t remember why.’ Victor now felt ready to face the future, and so he returned to Bayville.

Taking up with Magneto’s Brotherhood, Victor has been introduced to one mutant especially by Erik himself; Bernice Chastane, a girl whom Erik tells Victor will be able to assuage his violent passions and urges by way of her power. Victor is unsure what to make of this.

Sample RP: Victor was lounging around his room, wondering how it had managed to get so trashed as he glanced about the room in a lazy, cursory fashion and realized most of the shit lying around on the floor, on top of their crappy television, on the coffee and side tables, well, most of it was his junk, discarded plates with half-eaten food congealing on them and beer cans, there was allot of shit, and it probably needed to be tidied up and stuff, but Victor couldn’t be fucked with that. No, he was sitting down, well laying down actually described his current situation better; laying sprawled out across the couch, taking up the whole thing and then some, one of his feet resting on a small end-table, one arm dangling off the couch. There was some crappy sports show on, but he wasn’t watching it. Victor yawned, he’d been laying here for a few hours, drifting in and out of sleep, wondering what would be worth doing once the sun went down, but striking on nothing good as he mused idly. Eventually he decided that the reason he couldn’t think of anything to do was because there was nothing to do. That was life in Bayville; it was boring, there wasn’t really anyone to fight or anything to hunt or kill, there were no interesting smells to follow or good things to see. He preferred the organic life, dirt under foot, moon over head, game-trails, tracks and burrows, the musky odour of fearful prey and the smell of meat, the taste of blood and the way sinews felt as you bit threw them. While his mind sojourned on these matters Victor slipped into a light sleep, dreaming of game-trails and hunting. Waking up after an hour or so of fitful dreams eventually Victor decided that the reason he couldn’t think of anything to do was because he had no money, and was too hungry to think properly. He resolved to order a pizza, he’d give them an address across the street and jump the delivery guy; that would secure him both cash, and food. Victor yawned again. It was a good idea, but then again, the phone was so far away he knew that he’d need to get up if he wanted to use it. That part of the plan, getting up, that did not sit well with Victor at all.

Activity: I'll try to post at least once a day, and to come online, say, six times a week.