Wolfgang

It took long enough to load new areas/scenes in BBS for the psp even after downloading it. What would happen with a 3DS?

A Shady Character ~~~Wolfgang Well this is my first writing piece i will post. I got really bored so i wrote this piece.. Its not perfect.. and im sorry if the scene transitions are confusing. Feel free to point things out to make it better. Hope you enjoy (and sorry its so long! >___<) Also some heavy language. Dim street lights lit parts of the sidewalk. The darkness of night covering the motionless, quiet city, filling every alley-way, every corner, every turn. A light, chilling rain descended down, collecting into puddles on the roads. It was silent, all except for a constant splash. An old man darted around the corner of a building. His black suit blended into the shadows of which he ran. Panting hard, he kept running, down different streets, long alley-ways… splash splash splash… Arriving at a dead end of an alley-way, he franticly looked around for an escape. His panting increased, his heart beat… growing louder… and louder! Turning around, his panting seized, his movements froze, even his heart seemed to stop beating. For, from the shadows, the cloaked man emerged. The new-comer walked forward and stopped. “Get away from me!” screamed the old man. “The police will be here any minute to lock you up! A brutal thug will not scare the wits of me!” The cloaked man lifted his hand in a shrug. In a whisper that illuminated the man’s ears, he replied. “You may have benefited yourself, but what of your brother’s and sister’s throughout the world?” Screaming, the old man collapsed to the floor, scratching at his head, seeming almost as if the words of the stranger burned the insides of his mind. The stranger started slowly walking over, enjoying the old man’s anguish. Drawing a long, sleek, dagger from his robes, he hovered above the screaming man. Rising the dagger high above his head, he brought it down with might…The screaming ceased… The night became quiet again. Smiling an inscrutable smile, Alfred stood tall. Hand over hand on his cane, he faced the camera waiting for the photographer to take the picture. Click…snap. “Very good Mr. Jones. You look fantastic,” stated the photographer. “Please, call me Alfred,” he replied, his voice low toned and mild. Walking a short distance, he seated himself upon a mahogany chair. “Now, what else do you want to know?” He demanded. Quickly walking over, the journalist sat down in the other mahogany chair. Pulling out a notebook and pen, he stared at Alfred. Age showed on the man‘s face. A light wire like, brown hair was covered by a gray fedora. A well kept, white beard covered most of his face. Blue, gray, eyes glared at him. Something about his eyes were sinister, eyes that you would not want to stare back into. His well-built body was covered by a gray, formal suit. As a cool pleasant breeze ruffled the grass, the few trees swayed in an uniform movement. “Well?” questioned Alfred, growing impatient. “Sorry sir,” responded the reporter, looking down, adverting the icy stare. “I was wondering why you decided to do this project?” he asked. Chuckling, Alfred reached down, grabbing a bottle of Chateau Margaux. Pouring the crimson colored wine into a glass, he got up. Turning around, he marveled at his work. Six large, uninhabited buildings stood, in a line across the street. “The Carry Houses,” Alfred stated. Turning around again, he lifted both his arms into the sky. “Homes for the homeless,” he declared, smiling a cleverish smile. Walking down the city street, people marveled over the man known as Alfred. People shouted out his name, and tried grabbing or touching his clothing. People even called him a servant of God. Ignoring the people, he kept walking down the street. A frown covered his face and his eyes showed anger and hatred, for the people crowding around him. Reaching his destination, he looked up at the old, large, wooden doors. Six shrill rings of the bell reverberated down the city streets. Letting out a moan of regret and hate, he started climbing the steep stone steps. Pushing on the large doors, he entered the church. A colorful array of gold and whites decorated the church. The last lights of day shined in the western stained glass window. A picture of a man carrying a sheep was shown in the blues, greens, and other colors. In the center of the church a beautiful, gold trimmed, marble altar, stood. Three golden candlesticks stood on each side of the altar. A man dressed in white garments was kneeling before the altar. “Father Marc…” Alfred called out. The priest raised to his feet. Walking over to Alfred he shook his hand. “Alfred Jones, how are you sir?” the priest asked. Retreating his hand, Alfred replied. “I’m Fine,” his voice low. “Are the families chosen to inhabit the houses yet? Also, will you be able to make the speech tomorrow?” “Over twelve families are going to find a home due to you. I will also be able to make the speech. A great project for the homeless thank you. God is happy with you.” “He better be!” Alfred hollered, rage taking over his voice. “Those houses cost money you know! God owes me a lot for all the work I did for ‘his people’!” Lowering his eyes, the priest was silent for a minute. “’Be true to you work, your word, and your friend.’ Remember that quote my friend. I will see you tomorrow Alfred,” he whispered. Turning around he walked away. Angrily descending down the stairs, Alfred spat at the ground. “I am doing the right thing,” he thought to himself. “I deserve a lot for all the things I’ve done. I deserve a place high above! After all I’ve done what Gods asked me to do!” Looking up at the church, he spit angrily again. Turning around he started walking away. In the distance, the setting sun provided a colorful array of oranges and purples. The darkness of night started cresting the horizon. Embraced by hefty, grimy hands, Alfred tried freeing himself. A stench of disgust covered the stranger. Looking into the glossy eyes, the stranger laughed crazily. “Get off me! You mad man!” bellowed Alfred. Still laughing crazily, the schizophrenic man spoke. “ Comfort the afflicted, Afflict the Comfortable, That is his job, O, messenger of God, Emerging late at night, To set things right, The mysterious man is real, In his hand he carries stained steel, Help your brothers and sisters Who’s hands are covered with blisters, Give up your needs, And take word to the Creed, Ask for nothing in return, Or be prepared to be burned, Take heed to my warning, Or soon we will be mourning.” Restraining from using a hidden revolver for protection, Alfred acted. Shoving the mad man against a city building, Alfred hollered. “Leave me alone you scum!” Dropping to the ground the man continued crazily laughing, pointing up at Alfred. “’Its never too late to give up your prejudices, remember that!” The man shouted. Enraged, Alfred spat at the ground. Preparing to kick the collapsed man, Alfred stopped, noticing a crowd forming around the two. Looking angrily down one last time, he turned around and walked away, cursing under his breath. Arriving at his home, Alfred seated himself in a comfortable recliner. Pouring the rest of the Chateau Margaux into a glass, he set it on the table. Reaching out on the table he grabbed his pipe, which he started smoking. Opening the newspaper he had returned with, he studied the front page. A wide smile spread across his face. Henry Smith Found Dead June 17, 1916 Yesterday, Millionaire Henry Smith was found dead in an alley-way off North Shore Road. He was reported missing Friday night when he did not return to his Manson. After a frantic search he was found dead. For the time being, his death is being called a homicide due to a stab wound to his chest. No suspects have been named in this case yet, and no one has witnessed the crime. According to anonymous advice, Henry was last seen at a local pub and left late in the night. Police are working with local help to find and track down this murderer. It is suggested people in the area lock doors at night and alarm authority of any suspicious activity. Funeral services will be held at Saint John’s Catholic Church Thursday June 21st . Friday June 22nd he will be buried at the South Road Cemetery. Smiling wickedly, Alfred let out a hearty laugh. “Ha! That old crab is dead!” He said aloud. “That will teach him! Serves him right for the hundreds of thousands he cheated off me!” Suddenly, a ringing entered his ears. Burying his face into his hands, he let out a moan of confusion and sickness. “Whh- Whats going on?!” he screamed. Looking up, the room swayed… Right and left… Burying his face into his hands again, he counted in hopes that the dizziness would go away. “One…two… three… four… five… six!” he panted. Looking up again, darkness filled the room, for the lights had extinguished. The large room had stopped swaying, and the ringing was no more but a buzz. “Why do you rejoice over the death of a brother?” a low, whisper called. “Who is there!?” shrieked Alfred. Looking around franticly, nothing but darkness covered the room. “I am who I am. Though who are you truly?” the whisper replied. Quickly scattering around the table, Alfred grabbed a small box of matches and a candle. Sparking the match, parts of the large room was illuminated. Before him though a large shadow stood… No, not a shadow, a man! His body, his face, covered by black robes and a hood. Nothing but a deleterious smile showed where the hood ended. Lifting his hand, he pointed at Alfred. “Alfred Jones, ‘Servant of God,’” The mysterious man stated in an ironic whisper. “Are you worthy of such a title? Why do YOU deserve the riches of Heaven and everlasting life?” “Get out of my house!” screamed Alfred in a panicked voice. “I’d much rather not, I have a feeling you know why I might be here,” He replied. Lifting his hand out in an offer of “friendship” he continued. “You can make this easy or you can make this hard.” Pulling the hidden revolver from his suit, Alfred pointed it at the cloaked man. “What are you talking about!? I may not know who you are, but I’ve done all that’s been asked of me! Now get out! I don’t want to clean up your blood!” Alfred screamed. The cloaked man chuckled loudly. “You just don’t unders-…” The mysterious man was cut off as six clamorous gunshots echoed across the room. Each shot taken entered the mysterious man, causing him to step back and keel over. Sweat pouring from his face, Alfred lowered his shaking hands. Laughing emerged from the mysterious figure. Rising up, a wide smirk appeared on his face. Lifting both arms into the air, he spoke. “Well Alfred, That is your choice!” Instinct told Alfred what to do next. Running and jumping out of the large room, he covered his body. Hearing a snap of the man’s fingers, A tremendous roar shattered and shook the house. A wave of heat hit Alfred. Looking around, the room he was just standing in erupted into flames. Those flames licked at the ceiling of the room he was in, and quickly spread across the carpets. Pulling himself up, Alfred ran for the exit. The fading voice of the mysterious man echoed in his head. “So, you want to make this hard. I respect your choice.” “Who is he!?” Panicked Alfred as he ran down the street. “Human?! No! He Is a devil or some sort to enact revenge for all the good I’ve done?!” As lighting illuminated the night, the first rain drops started plopping down upon the world. “I may hate this,” he thought to himself. “Though the Church should be safe!” Shoving his body into the locked doors, Alfred cried out. His words swallowed, as lighting illuminated the darkness and thunder shook the ground. He repeatedly shoved his body into the doors and beat at it with his fist. Collapsing, he cried out again. Getting up one last time, he backed up. Running, he collided with the door, ripping its hinges off, and his body dropped along with the door to the ground. Painfully picking himself up, he walked forward to the altar. Retrieving a small box of matches from his suit, he attempted lighting several wet matches. After a short while, one lit. Walking over to the candles, he started from left to right, lighting each of the six candles. After finishing the task, he looked upon the altar. An open Bible lay open, almost asking to be read. Alfred took it in his hands and studied it. Luke 17: Then said he unto the disciples, It is impossible but that offences will come: but woe unto him, through whom they come! It were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and he cast into the sea, than that he should offend one of these little ones. Take heed to yourselves: If thy brother trespass against thee, rebuke him; and if he repent, forgive him. And if he trespass against thee seven times in a day, and seven times in a day turn again to thee, saying, I repent; thou shalt forgive him. And the apostles said unto the Lord, Increase our faith. And the Lord said, If ye had faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye might say unto this sycamine tree, Be thou plucked up by the root, and be thou planted in the sea; and it should obey you. But which of you, having a servant plowing or feeding cattle, will say unto him by and by, when he is come from the field, Go and sit down to meat? And will not rather say unto him, Make ready wherewith I may sup, and gird thyself, and serve me, till I have eaten and drunken; and afterward thou shalt eat and drink? Doth he thank that servant because he did the things that were commanded him? I trow not. So likewise ye, when ye shall have done all those things which are commanded you, say, We are unprofitable servants: we have done that which was our duty to do. “Alfred, why do you try to escape fate?” A voice called out. Looking up, Alfred was confronted with the mysterious person walking to him from the front of the church. “Why…Why me?” questioned Alfred, his voice expressing what little hope he had left. “You’ve been given all the reasons, all the warnings, your choice was not to listen, not to look. Your choices, your attitude has led me to you.” the mysterious man replied. A long silence took place between the two. Alfred, looking around for possible escapes, the emotion of fear, taking over his entire body. “Alfred, there is no escape. Even if you manage to get away, I will not cease until my job is done,” he continued. Slowly walking towards Alfred, the man pulled a lengthy, steel dagger from his robes. Light illuminated the church once more and the man stopped. “Goodbye,” he said loudly. Taking the dagger, he whirled it at Alfred. Alfred’s eyes lit up and quickly he tried evading the dagger. Though not quick enough, it grazed his arm deeply. Continuing, the dagger impacted with a pew, sticking and vigorously shaking back and forth in it. Letting out a scream of pain, Alfred grabbed at his injured arm. Warm crimson blood guzzled out of the wound and into his hand. Dizziness and pain took over his fears as blood soaked into his suit. The mysterious man let out a sigh of anger, for he had missed. Another sigh of anger and impatience came from the mysterious man as he watched Alfred stumble out of the Church. Painfully, Alfred climbed down the stone steps of the Church and into the harsh rain storm. Crossing the street, he entered the park across from the Church. Painfully continuing on, he tripped and fell several times. Mud soaked into his once gray suit. After what seemed a long distance, Alfred collapsed to the mud-covered ground. Looking before him, six large houses lined across the street. The darkness of night covered the houses, most of the surroundings and most of his mind. “’Be true to your work, your word, and your friend…’” he said aloud, tears swelling in his eyes. Reaching into his suit, he pulled out the revolver he had used earlier. Opening it, he reached into his suit once again and felt around. Retrieving one last bullet, he placed it into the revolver and shut it. “Alfred,” the voice called out. Looking up, the cloaked man, like many times before, stood before him. Lifting the gun, he let out one last sigh, and pulled the trigger. “Alfred Jones, he will be missed,” stated Father Marc before the crowd. A pleasant warm breeze blew across the graveyard. People gathered around the priest and casket. Many crying or trying to comfort others. “I remember many all the encounters I have had with this man. From the time we met to the time before his death,” he continued. “We liked disagreeing on things of the church,” he said with a chuckle and continued. “Though, I wonder still to this moment, why this happened… It's the circle of life, and it moves us all, through despair and hope, through faith and love, 'till we find our place, on the path unwinding. He will truly be missed,” the Father concluded. As the casket was lowered into the grave, people cried out and buried their faces into their hands mourning the loss of the man known as Alfred Jones. Far from the funeral sight, the cloaked man leaned in the shadow of an large oak. Smiling a corrupt smile, he turned around and walked into the light, disappearing with its first contact.

With Lighting i would always try to use flourish of steel. Also her spinning attack can be used with Kuja's assist which then you use crushing blow.

What

Deadliest Catch as in the show on the Discovery Channel. It is a documentary/reality based show portraying life on several crap fishing boats in the Bering Sea. It is going on its eight season. There are two types of crabs caught in different seasons. -Alaskan King Crab -C. Opilio Many Fishermen and Fishing Vessels have lost their lives to the harsh Bering Sea. It can be described as hell If you never saw this show before i suggest you do. As for this Fanclub talk about your favorite seasons/people/boats/skippers/etc. My favorite crew/boat would be the Northwestern/Cornelia Marie My favorite skipper would be Phil Harris (RIP)

And what happens when you enter High School.. College? Welcome to life. You grow up. Your not going to get beat up for nothing.

Happens when you look up "boobs" on google. You geta virus.

Why only male characters. There is badass female characters..

Well you cant sail in Winter so..

Wait. What.