The Warriors

It's still on, and we're going.

Cyrus sent an emissary this afternoon to make sure.

Now, Cyrus don't want anybody packed.

He don't want anybody flexing any muscle.

I gave him my word that the Warriors would uphold the truce.

Everybody says that Cyrus is the one and only.

I think we'd better go have a look for ourself.

- We ain't been to the Bronx before. - No sweat.

This conclave's gonna be a real big item.

Every gang in the city is gonna be there.

We're going in there with nothing.

We're going in there like everybody else.

Nine guys, ho weapons.

You got the stuff?

I want you to hit everything in sight.

I want everybody to know the Warriors were there.

You never know what you're gonna run into out there.

- Wearing our colors, we can't hide. - Who wants to hide?

Maybe we'll get to waste a few heads along the way.

You just soldier and keep your mouth shut.

When we get there, you stick close by, okay?

Don't worry. I don't feel like getting wrecked.

One thing we might get out of Cyrus' little get-together

Is meeting some strange wool.

I wouldn't mind laying something down on the way back.

You got a one-track brain, you know that?

What's the matter? You going faggot?

What do you know about Cyrus?

Magic.

A whole lot of magic.

- What do you know about Cyrus? - He's the one and only.

When you're president of the biggest gang in the city,

you don't have to take any shit.

Fuck him.

I'll tell you something, I'll bet nobody's even gonna be there.

Can you count, suckers?

I say the future is ours

if you can count!

- Come on, Cyrus, we're with you! - Go ahead, bro!

Now, look what we have here before us.

We've got the Saracens

sitting next to the Jones Street Boys.

We've got the Moon Runners

right by the Van Courtland Rangers.

Nobody is wasting nobody.

That

is a miracle.

And miracles

Is the way things ought to be.

- Yeah! - I heard that!

- I heard that. - Come get answered!

You're standing right now with nine delegates from 100 gangs.

And there's over 100 more.

That's 20,000 hard-core members.

Forty thousand, counting affiliates,

and 20,000 more, not organized but ready to fight.

Sixty thousand soldiers.

Now, there ain't but 20,000 police in the whole town.

Can you dig it?

- Can you dig it? - Yeah!

Now here's the sum total.

One gang could run this city.

One gang.

Nothing would move without us allowing it to happen.

We could tax the crime syndicates,

the police,

because we got the streets, suckers!

- Can you dig it? - Yeah!

Right on!

The problem in the past

has been the man turning us against one another.

We have been unable to see the truth,

because we've been fighting for 10 square feet of ground,

our turf, our little piece of turf.

That's crap, brothers.

The turf is ours by right

because it's our turn.

All we have to do

is keep up the general truce.

We take over one borough at a time.

Secure our territory.

Secure our turf.

Because it's all our turf.

Yeah!

The other way, against the crowd!

And keep your ass down!

Down!

Get out of the way.

- They'll kill us all. - Watch out, man. Watch his head.

There wasn't supposed to be no guns!

Come on, move it!

- Is Cleon all right? - I think he's up there.

- Are you sure? - No.

Come on! Move it!

There he is! That's him!

That's the Warrior!

- He shot Cyrus! - Man, you're crazy. I didn't do nothing.

- We saw him! - Yeah, that's him.

He's the one. He's the one! The Warriors did it!

The Warriors did it! The Warriors did it!

The Warriors did it!

Kill him!

Down. Everybody down!

- Shit! - You all right?

Yeah.

Everybody quiet.

Everybody make it?

Just Cleon's missing.

- Fuzz must've got him. - Did you see him get busted?

I seen him, then he wasn't there no more.

I was hauling ass.

Why don't you look around, make sure we're okay.

This is a graveyard.

Okay, what are we gonna do now?

We're going back.

You mind telling us how?

Fucking Coney Island must be 50 to 100 miles from here.

- It's the only choice we got. - Yeah, real simple.

Except that every cop in the city is looking to bust our heads.

- We got something else to think about. - Yeah? What?

The truce.

Is it still on?

If it ain't, we're gonna have to bop our way back.

Shit, I wish we was packed.

If this truce is off, anything could hit us between here and that train.

If you get separated,

make it to the platform at Union Square.

- That's where we change trains. - I only got one question.

Who named you leader?

I got as much right to take over as you.

It was Cleon's choice. Swan's war chief.

Right about now, Cleon's most likely got a nightstick shoved halfway up his ass.

Shit. I bet you can't even find the subway.

Maybe we ought to talk about this later, huh?

Well, what's wrong with right now?

I wanna be warlord.

Make your move.

- Hey, Ajax, lighten up. - Big boy, Swan's war chief.

We better stick together.

Hey, you guys! The train's right over there.

Come on. Hurry up. Let's go!

Let's move.

Hey, man, don't worry about it. Stay loose.

Fuck.

Rembrandt, mark this spot.

Hey! Wait for me!

Riffs!

Yeah, right!

Who are the Warriors?

There must be some word.

I want them all.

I want all the Warriors!

I want them alive, if possible. If not, wasted.

But I want them.

Send the word.

All right, now, for all you boppers out there in the big city,

all you street people with an ear for the action,

I've been asked to relay a request from the Gramercy Riffs.

It's a special for the Warriors.

That's that real, live bunch from Coney.

And I do mean the Warriors.

Here's a hit with them in mind.

Be looking good, Warriors.

All the way back to Coney.

You hear me, babies?

Good. Real good.

Adios.

- Come on. What kind of crap is this? - Yeah. What are we waiting for?

A train would help,

unless you wanna go up there and get japped on an open platform.

Bullshit, man. There ain't nobody on the street.

He's right. We're acting like faggots.

Just keep talking.

Move.

That's the Turnbull A.C.'s.

I think they forgot about the truce.

No shit.

Those lousy skinheaded fucks.

That's our train. We gotta make it.

Oh, Jesus Christ!

Are we gonna go for it?

Hold the fucking train!

Those guys were some desperate dudes.

- So was we! - In an even fight we could take them.

Bunch of chicken shits!

Those cats didn't look too chicken shit to me.

Me, neither.

Well, we made it. And in an hour, it is C.l., the Big Coney.

You got it. Give me that fist, buddy.

When we get there, that's when we've made it.

Hey, no sweat, war chief.

- Hey! I've got Coney Island! - Yeah!

Figure out how many stops to the Union Square?

Hey, come on, man. That's high math for Rembrandt.

It's all right. Nobody can read these maps anyway.

Hey, forget it. What's the difference? We're home free.

We just heard from the Turnbulls.

They blew it.

Shit. This train's had it.

This is fucking impossible.