The Warriors Movie Site Forum

I revamped the story of The Roadmasters with improved and more ranged charaterisation. This first story tells of how four boys, chased out of England, arrive in New York to start a street family of their own. Special thanks to Space Toaster for letting me use the Daily Whisper.

Awesome beginning! You introduced the characters well and the story flowed well, and it was fun to read. Not to mention I enjoyed the Daily Whisper being mentioned. ^_^ I look forward to the next installment!

yep same as toaster it was a great intro i loved  how you descibed the satans mothers to the hells angels that was pretty funny

“Yer gonna get wrecked, jerks!â€

Yay! You continued! I was glad to see the guys get away from the Mothers and how you went around describing everyone's reaction to the Shaman. It just keeps getting better.

Sorry I disappeared, I had a lot of stuff going on and it led to me just forgetting about this place. Have no fear though, because Roadmasters chapter 3 is in the works now. 

Awesome story, nice work!!! Man, I wish I could write that well

“This is the address,â€

The lighthouse was now a clubhouse. It sat on the edge of Rockaway Beach, with the beautiful blue sea on one side, and the mighty city of New York on the other. Raven had spray-painted ‘ROADMASTERS’ in yellow and brown across its otherwise white surface. Inside, the many floors of the lighthouse had been turned into a real home. There was a place to hang out, a games room, a gym, a bedroom with sleeping bags, and at the very top, was Nathanial’s ‘office’ where all the gang’s accounts were dealt with. In the last two and a half weeks, their gang had now risen from four founders to ten members. Not much in retrospect, but a good start. The twin brothers, Sam and Eric, had found certain people who would happily provide electricity to the lighthouse in exchange for a 10% cut of their protection funds. Nathanial was more than happy to settle on that. Cyrus’ tip about getting uniforms had been right. All ten members of the Roadmasters now wore a beautiful, brown jacket of faux leather, with tassels lining their sleeves and their distinctive logo – a silver, spiked wheel – printed on the back.
Robert Reeve disliked Nathanial Greed. The seventeen-year-old boy, who sat directly opposite him in his office, with his billowy jeans and aviator goggles, was mocking him silently. Reeve could see it in his clever eyes and detect it when he spoke. The Youth Board had forced Reeve to take the job, and his reports became less and less impressive with each appointment. Nathanial simply didn’t talk enough, but Reeve knew. Oh, he knew. Knew that this was not your ordinary gangster sitting there. This boy was switched on. All the cables were connected. All the gears were whirring. He was a genius, and Reeve almost feared that. Why did he have to get stuck with this whack-job kid from across the ocean? He wanted a cushy job with a gang of typical brats, like that Wallie guy: he had those little punks, the Destroyers, over in Coney, and from what he knew, was on fairly good terms with them.
“All right, Nathanial,â€

man i totally forgot about this story i loved it

you have a real talent for writing :p :p :p

Thanks. I just realised a made slight error, as the Warriors weren't around in 1977, so I made a slight change to the previous chapter.

Six men and four women were relaxing in the cool shade of an underpass. In their black shirts and cowboy boots, the men were easily recognisable as the Nightriders. Their leader, who was known as Randy, had his white Stetson tilted back on his head, cowpoke-style. Hanging around his neck was a badly bent cross on a length of string. The Nightriders had aspirations to rule all of Rockaway. Randy worshipped the very ground that the great Magic Cyrus walked on, wanted to taste such power, and when news reached him of the Roadmasters, a new up-and-coming group made of some runaway limeys, he knew he had to nip that problem in the bud. They had sent out a message to those so-called ‘Roadmasters’ by killing their youth worker, a dry old coot with a bad temper, called Robert Reeve. His girlfriend hung off his arm, with her long blonde locks, push-up bra beneath her tight blouse, and a white bandanna over her head with ‘MAMA SAYS YES’ printed across it in a jet black font.
Randy’s second-in-command, Hoss, took a drink from the bottle of whiskey in his hand, and passed it along to his girlfriend, and that cycle of alcohol consumption began.
“Ten of ‘em, fifty o’ us,â€

An excellent end(?) to an excellent story. You've always impressed me with your characterization and your ability to set scenes, and I'm not surprised that I was impressed with this chapter. In a nutshell: You done good, bud.

I have to say I'm a bit disappointed at the lack of reviews, considering how well thought of I've been told I am as a writer. With the story completed, I was expecting more responses, and if it's because I spent so long doing it, then I'm sorry - college/uni, job-hunting and working on my novel have taken up a great deal of my time. 

Damn man, that was one killer ass story. It was awesome. You better write some more.