The Roadmasters

[Scotty Rave]

THE ROADMASTERS

Written by
Scott D. Harris

Based on The Warriors©

---

Chapter One: Quitting

April 15th 1978. 9:30PM. Rockaway Beach.

The silence of the night air was torn asunder by the sound of motorcycles. Twelve figures were rocketing down the vast street. The bikes were mostly of different makes but all of them were navy blue with a streamlined silver logo painted on the sides. These bikers were members of the gang known as The Nightriders, who took pleasure in terrorising the innocent citizens of Rockaway Beach just to remind them of who had the power to crush them like insects. The Nightriders wore black biker jackets with their logo on the back and black helmets with a silver N on the forehead. The soldiers also wore plain black vests underneath while the lieutenants showed their rank by wearing blue. The leader stood out because of the red scar design painted on the side of his visor, mirroring the real scar on his face.

The Warlord went by the name, ironically, of Scar. Beneath his helmet he had shaggy, black hair and blue eyes. He was of mixed heritage, an Italian mother and an Irish father. The problem with Scar however, was that he was hated by almost everyone. He was paranoid and as such, he was always on the lookout for trouble. He almost never slept, which had driven him very close to the edge of insanity. Only a few select members of The Nightriders had no intention of stabbing him in the back ? and those members were his Warchief and the higher lieutenants he formed the gang with.

His Warchief, a sex-crazed drug addict by the name of Bronco, rode alongside him. One of the lower lieutenants, Nathaniel, was right behind Bronco. Nathaniel was pure Irish and had black hair down to his shoulders and blue eyes. He was thankful for his helmet, otherwise he would be overwhelmed by the stink of drugs coming off Bronco?s skin. Nathaniel had been with The Nightriders for two years, joining up about four months after they were formed. He had already decided that after this one final job, he would tell Scar he wanted out. Nathaniel?s two close friends Dane and Corky were going with him. Nathaniel was intelligent, very intelligent, and before their deaths his parents had wanted the best for him. He could go to the finest schools in Queens, maybe even all of New York, if he wished it. When his mother died in a drive-by and his father committed suicide, the heartless landlord had thrown him out on the street. With nowhere else to go, Nathaniel joined The Nightriders. He was now 22 years old. He was still smart and due to his two years of soldiering, he was also fairly strong.

The twelve bikers pulled up outside Keaton?s Bakery, a new shop that was not yet under their protection. After removing their helmets and putting out their kickstands, The Nightriders approached the glass doors. Scar kicked the doors open and stormed into the shop. The owners, a young couple Mr. and Mrs. Keaton, were astonished.
?Who the hell do you think you are?!? Mr. Keaton demanded.
?You shut up!? Scar shouted, punching open a glass display. ?Nightriders! Destroy this joint!?

Mr. Keaton hugged his crying wife as the shop was torn apart by the gang ? although three certain members seemed more than reluctant to participate. Nathaniel had seen a bulge under Mrs. Keaton?s jumper and realised they were ruining the livelihood of two people who would seen be parents. If he had his own gang, he would still have to get money through a protection racket however he would be more careful with his methods. Maybe he was just too nice for this life style.

When the carnage had ended, Scar approached the Keatons and spoke harshly.
?Now this is gonna happen again unless you pay us $50 every month, you got that??
?Y?Yeah,? Mr. Keaton shuddered, ?I got that.?
?Good,? Scar smirked. ?Let?s move Nightriders.?

Once outside, Nathaniel, Dane and Corky approached Scar.
?Listen Scar,? said Nathaniel, ?because me, Dane and Corky have come to a decision.?
?Oh yeah?? Scar asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
?We want out.?
?What makes you think I?ll let you go??
?We?re willing to do whatever it takes to get out.?
?Fine then. Nightriders! Trash their bikes!?
?No way!?
Bronco ran at Nathaniel?s bike with a lump of lead piping but the Irishman grabbed his wrist then punched him square on the nose. Corky, a tall, muscular African-American with an afro grabbed two Nightriders and slammed their heads together before delivering a roundhouse kick to another one. Dane, a fairly athletic Irish-American with chestnut hair in a ponytail and green eyes, backhanded another Nightrider then kneed another in the groin. Nathaniel delivered an uppercut to yet another then clotheslined two more.
?GET UP YOU IDIOTS!? Scar demanded. ?BUST THEIR HEADS OPEN!?

Nathaniel, Dane and Corky jumped onto their bikes, revved the engines and began to ride off as quickly as they could, leaving their helmets behind. Most of The Nightriders were too dazed to give chase. The trio had escaped, for now.

[cowboy rules]

Man your Fan Fics are so good. Really awesome. The fighting in them are just great and the descriptive writing in them are too good. Keep it up!

[Scotty Rave]

Chapter Two: Crouching ?Master, Hidden Hun

After discarding their Nightrider jackets near the entrance of their former hideout, the three runaways stood together on a pier that stretched out across a section of Rockaway Beach itself.
?Scar and his goons will be lookin? for us,? said Dane.
?So what?s our next move?? asked Corky.
?We make our own gang,? replied Nathaniel. ?We?ll claim turf later, first thing we need to do is get us some colours then go seek out new members. After that, we?ll claim our turf right here on Rockaway Beach.?
?Where we gonna get the members from?? Dane asked.
?We?ll head up to Manhattan,? said Nathaniel. ?The gang scene is tight, I?m sure we can round up a few potentials.?
?So what?s this gang gonna be called?? Corky inquired. Nathaniel took a few moments of quite contemplation before answering. ?The Roadmasters.?

April 16th 1978. 10:00PM. Chinatown.

The three friends stepped off the train in Chinatown, wearing new uniforms. With nowhere to store their extra colours, Corky carried them in a beaten suitcase. The trio were wearing brown biker jackets with tasselled sleeves and their new logo on the back. The logo was the word ?ROADMASTERS,? in white, scratchy letters with a yellow outline, over an image of a spiked tyre. To define himself as Warlord, Nathaniel also wore a dirty white scarf that hung loosely around his neck and a pair of riding goggles on his forehead. As his Warchief and top lieutenant, Dane and Corky wore camouflage vests and silver dog tags.

Nathaniel walked up the flight of steps that would lead them into the main street of the Chinatown market, close to the hideout of The Savage Huns.
?You?d better know what you?re doin?,? said Corky. ?I don?t wanna get wasted by the Huns.?
?Quit being so worried,? replied Nathaniel. ?Just stick to the shadows and keep it shtum. We need to find someone who looks like they?d be good as a lieutenant.? The trio walked down the street until they began to get dangerously close to the hideout. Hearing voices, Nathaniel led them into an alleyway and watched the situation. Several Huns were in a circle, apparently arguing with one of their number.

?You listen here Sonny,? said a Hun lieutenant, ?you cannot lip off to us like that.?
?Fuck you Jimmy Lo,? the soldier called Sonny snapped. ?I am one of the best soldiers you got, you need me.?
?We are at least 200 strong Sonny,? Jimmy Lo growled.
?Then kick the shit out of me, if you can,? Sonny challenged.
?Fuck you, you?re out of this gang,? Jimmy Lo said harshly while jabbing him in the chest. ?If I ever catch you wearing our colours again after today, I?ll break your fucking head open!?
He brought his fist back and punched Sonny in the gut, winding him. The Huns walked past the gates that sealed off their hideout and locked it. Sonny spat up blood and staggered to his feet.
?You fucking bastards!? he shrieked and tossed his pointy hat to the ground.

Nathaniel emerged from the shadows, followed by Dane and Corky.
?Hey man,? he said, ?that was harsh what they did to you.?
?I?ll get over it,? Sonny snorted. He then looked at the trio. ?I have never seen those colours before, what gang are you??
?We haven?t actually established ourselves yet. We call ourselves The Roadmasters. You say you?re one of the best martial arts, you?re welcome to join us.?
?How many you got??
?Just us.?

Sonny rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a few moments. He then nodded.
?I?m in, lemme get rid of these colours, you gimme one of those outfits and I?ll fight alongside you.? As the Chinese man began to remove his hoodie, Corky set down his suitcase and opened it, pulling out a brown jacket, a camo vest and a silver dog tag. Sonny grabbed the outfit, pulling it over his bare upper body. He inspected himself and gave an approving nod.
?Looks good on you,? Nathaniel commented. ?Now, let?s go find some more members.?

[Scotty Rave]

Chapter Three: The Melodic Giant

April 17th 1978. 7:30PM. Rockaway Beach.

The sun was setting and soon, the armies of the night would rise again. The four Roadmasters had found a suitable hideout for them however it lacked any burners because they had not yet found a talented writer. The hideout was a beach warehouse, stationed just on the edge of the sand, where it connected with the street. Nathaniel stood on the balcony at the front, staring out at the sea. Dane joined him.

?Only four strong,? said the Warchief. ?That?s not enough Nathan.?
?I?m aware of that,? Nathaniel replied. ?We?ll have to keep looking. We need more muscle and we need writers. That?s the most important thing. We?ll move out in half an hour, tell Sonny and Corky to get ready.?
?Got it,? Dane acknowledged and went back inside, leaving Nathaniel alone.

Inside, Corky was lying in a hammock while reading a newspaper and Sonny was on the bottom floor, practising on the punching bag. Dane walked up to his friend.
?Hey, Corky, Nathan says we?re gonna move out in about half an hour. We?re on the hunt for more soldiers. We could really use them. At only four total strength, we?ll be in deep crap if any of the other gangs decide to wipe us out.?
?You?re paranoid,? Corky scoffed but he got out of his hammock and looked over the railings at the makeshift gymnasium. ?Hey! Sonny! We?re gonna look for more guys!?
?All right, I will meet you outside!? Sonny called up.

Soon, the four were travelling along the boardwalk, but came to a stop when they saw someone walking towards them. He was a muscular figure, Irish in origin, with wavy, chestnut hair and brown eyes. He was dressed in a pair of simple black jeans, boots, a white vest and black fingerless gloves. Slung over his shoulder was a black guitar case.
?He?s a big bugger,? muttered Dane. Nathaniel walked towards him.
?Hey,? he said. ?Who are you?? The giant man looked at him.
?My name is Pep. I?m a traveller.?
?Going somewhere??
?Nowhere in particular. What are you, a gang??
?We?re?new.?
?Think I could join? I got nowhere to go. I?m handy in a fight.?
?We could us someone like you, but?well?we need to make sure. You?ll have to pass an initiation,? Nathaniel pointed at the hideout. ?See that warehouse? Meet us over there in a few minutes.?

As Nathaniel walked back towards the others with Pep following behind, a figure watched from the shadows between two buildings. The figure was a skinny Caucasian boy, no older than 19, with long, black hair and blue eyes. He was dressed in a white robe, like a priest although a pair of pointed, black shoes were just visible underneath. The figure narrowed his eyes then disappeared into the alleyway. On his back was the word ?ANGELS,? in gold, elegant text, over an image of two white, avian wings. He would report back to his leader, The Roadmasters had potential and they could not stand in the way of their dominance of the city.

?Okay,? said Pep, ?what?s this initiation I have to take.? Nathaniel rubbed his chin in thought for a moment, then he had an idea and a smirk crossed his face.
?There?s a gang called The Nightriders who are claiming turf pretty close by. If you can steal one of their bikes, you?re in.?

Pep nodded and handed Corky his guitar.
?Look after her,? he said. ?She?s my pride and joy.? Corky placed the strap of the case over his shoulder as Pep began to walk away.
?Think he can do it?? Dane asked.
?I have no idea,? Nathaniel replied.

In another region of Rockaway Beach, Pep had already discovered a group of Nightriders outside a pub, all of them drunk. It would be easier to steal a bike from them then he originally thought. The bikes were across the road from the gang members, so Pep stuck to the shadows as he moved towards them. Suddenly, one of The Nightriders began to stumble towards him. Pep swore under his breath and ducked behind the bikes and then behind a protruding section of a building. As the gangster drew closer, Pep waited until his back was turned. He then grabbed him, covering his mouth with one hand, and pulled him into the shadows. It only took a whack to the back of the neck to render him unconscious.

The other Nightriders were alerted to the sound of an engine powering up. They turned around just in time to see one of their bikes being stolen by a mysterious man. The Nightriders shouted angrily but did not give chase. Pep grinned smugly inside. He just had to get this bike back to the others and he was an official Roadmaster.

[Furies4life]

Loving it Scotty. Savage Hun to Roadmaster love it. Whats next Turnbull's??? Keep it going.

[Scotty Rave]

Chapter Four: The Writer

A week or so after Pep?s initiation, a few more candidates had joined the gang. Their current number was around 12, but they still lacked a capable writer. Therefore, their mark was still not on the hideout. Nathaniel was losing patience. Was there a single good writer in Rockaway Beach?! Of course, that was about to change. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Nathaniel left the hideout and began to walk up the street directly outside. As he passed an alleyway, a hissing sound caught his attention. Stepping into the alleyway, Nathaniel found someone tagging a wall. The someone was obviously on their own; they weren?t wearing any gang colours, just a white vest, faded, blue jeans and white trainers. Resting on the ground next to him was a filthy old rucksack. A studded cuff was around his left wrist and he was holding a spray can, painting a large, white bird on the wall. He was Irish-American in ethnic with short, neat black hair and brown eyes.

?Hey, laddy,? Nathaniel said, stepping into the alleyway. ?You do realise you?re painting on Roadmaster turf, right?? The writer looked at him cautiously.
?I didn?t know,? he said in a quiet voice.
?It?s ok,? Nathaniel smiled. ?I can see you know how to paint, what?s your name lad??
?My name?s Raven.?
?I?m Nathaniel. We?re looking for a talented writer. If you can pass our initiation, you?re in. Interested??
?Yeah, I?m interested.?
?Then meet me outside that beach warehouse in 10 minutes.?

With that, Nathaniel walked away. Raven stood in the alleyway, unsure what to think. He expected a gangster to smash his face in or stab him or some other gruesome method of killing someone. Raven was not much a talker and definitely not much of a fighter. He had been thrown out of his house and for a few years now, he had been living at the YMCA. However, it was not really somewhere he felt safe. He would get into this gang, if anything, so he could have a home. He tossed the empty spray can away, hoisted the rucksack over his shoulder and walked towards the warehouse.

About 10 minutes later, Raven stood opposite Nathaniel, Dane, Corky, Sonny and Pep outside the hideout. The Warlord crossed his arms.
?All right Raven,? said Nathaniel, ?here?s your initiation test. I want you to go into Gerrard territory and put up our mark over three of their burners. Sonny and Corky will go with you, just to make sure it?s done and to keep those punks off your back. Dig??
?I dig,? Raven replied. ?But why The Gerrards??
?The Gerrards are one of the heavier gangs in Queens,? Nathaniel explained, ?and I want them to know that The Roadmasters are here to stay. This will get you your vest, but you don?t earn our respect until you prove you?re as good as I think you are.?
?I got it Warlord,? Raven nodded.
?Good,? Nathaniel smiled.

April 24th 1978. 11:00PM. Prince?s Bay.

Corky, Sonny and Raven watched from an alleyway as several members of The Gerrards strolled past. The Gerrards were all Irish, mostly with fluffy or short brown hair and hazel eyes. Their colours consisted of green vests with white trim and their logo on the back, dirty or torn jeans and black boots. The lieutenant leading them wore an inverted shirt and a silver whistle hung around his neck. The three Roadmasters could see a Gerrard burner right across the street.

Waiting until the patrol had gone, the trio dashed quickly across the road. Raven opened his rucksack and took out a can, shaking it up. Corky and Sonny stood on either side of him, ready for anything. After the can was sufficiently shaken, Raven began to spray a big, dark yellow R over the top of the burner.
?You almost done?? Sonny asked impatiently.
?Yeah, I?m done,? Raven replied.
?Then let?s duck into the shadows until we find the next burner,? said Corky. ?Hey, do you hear that?? The sound of fast footsteps could be heard coming around the corner.
?Holy Christ,? Raven gasped. The three ran into the nearest alley and pressed themselves against the wall just as a group of Gerrards, twelve at least, came running towards them. The lieutenant in charge saw the yellow R and screamed.
?WHO DID THIS?!? he demanded. ?I?LL TEAR OUT THEIR GIZZARDS! FIND THESE BASTARDS NOW!? The Gerrards split up in two different directions.
?We?re gonna get japped,? Raven whimpered.
?Shut up,? Sonny hissed. ?We?ll be fine, we just gotta be careful.?

[Scotty Rave]

This awesome burner is the work of my friend Ryan. This is more or less the full Roadmasters logo, albeit more cartoony.

[Furies4life]

Alright so now i can imagine that logo on there backs. Awsome job Scotty

[Scotty Rave]

Chapter Five: Hunting Time

The Gerrard hideout was an old wax museum. The dummies had been removed to make it more fitting. The Gerrard leader, Hugo, was sitting behind his desk as a lieutenant relayed the latest news to him. Hugo was a fairly athletic, rather tanned figure with chestnut hair in spikes and brown eyes. He had a tattoo of a clover on the right side of his neck. He was dressed in a green suit with a white undershirt, all fashioned from elegant silk, accompanied by shined, black boots with steel toe-caps and white, cotton gloves.

?Some new gang?s throw-up was found on one of our burners,? said the lieutenant. ?Jerry?s patrol are lookin? for them right now.?
?Bring them here when you find them,? said Hugo.
?Yes sir,? the lieutenant nodded.

A few streets away from the last mark, Raven was beginning a new one. Like before, Corky and Sonny were standing guard. Raven quickly finished the mark.
?I?m done, let?s go.?
?Thank God for that,? Corky muttered. He turned around and gasped. The Gerrard patrollers were heading right for them and this street had no alleys to duck into.
?Holy shit,? muttered Sonny. ?Looks like we?ll have to break their fucking faces in.?
?No, we don?t fight unless we have to,? said Corky. ?Raven, you fast??
?I guess.?
?Good. THEN RUN!?
The trio took off at top speed, rounding the corner and heading down another road.
?GET THEM!? the Gerrard lieutenant ordered and the twelve gangsters gave chase, swiftly beginning to gain on their prey. Raven was huffing and puffing, losing his wind. Sonny snatched the half-empty paint can from the writer and whipped out his lighter. He stopped and faced the oncoming Gerrards.
?Sonny!? Corky cried. ?What are you doing?!?
?Keep going!? Sonny called back. ?I?ll catch up! Burn motherfuckers!?
He pressed down on the spray can and held out his lighter. A stream of flames launched at The Gerrards and the lieutenant screamed as his vest caught fire. He began to roll around on the ground, trying to put the flames out. Sonny tossed the can at them and pocketed his lighter. He then proceeded to run after Raven and Corky.

?Let?s just get to the train and head home,? Corky panted.
?No,? Raven puffed. ?Nathaniel said to get three tags up, we only got two. We don?t go home until we get the third.?
?You got bottle kid, I?ll give ya that.?
They rounded the corner and ran down another street. Sonny was lagging behind. The Asian man was suddenly pinned down by three Gerrards and three more closed in. Corky came to a stop and looked in horror. Sonny was struggling but he soon succumbed to their superior numbers and disappeared beneath a sea of flying fists. Four more Gerrards appeared from inside a pub and two of them grabbed Raven by the arms, pinning him to the wall while a third planted punch after punch into his face, chest and stomach. Corky looked around in a panic. He was surrounded, Gerrards closing in on all sides. The Irish gang were grinning evilly at him.

Corky threw a punch that clocked a Gerrard in the jaw, but he received a fist to the gut and a kick in the back for his troubles. Dropping to his knees, Corky breathed heavily from the pain as the enemies closed in on him. Then everything turned black.

April 25th 1978. 11:00AM. Rockaway Beach.

The next day, the other Roadmasters had heard nothing from Corky or Sonny. Nathaniel was getting worried. Deciding to go see if they were all right, he took Dane, Pep and another muscle, Bozo down to the train station. Bozo was a former Turnbull A.C. who quit the gang when his older brother, Birdy, was killed. As such, he was a skinhead with brown eyes, and of Irish-American heritage. The quartet arrived at the train station and gasped in horror at what they saw.

Nailed against a wall was a Roadmaster jacket with blood spattered all over it and a big, dark green G sprayed over the logo on the back. Nathaniel lifted the sleeve of the jacket for a moment then let it drop. He clenched his fist angrily.
?The Gerrards?? he looked at his soldiers. ?Dane! Pep! Bozo! Go get the others! We?re getting those bastards for this!?

[Furies4life]

Hey you took my idea from Turnbull.Wow all roadmaster counerd. Keep it going. Awsome.story.

[Scotty Rave]

Chapter Six: In Hugo?s Hands

April 25th 1978. 1:00PM. Prince?s Bay.

Nathaniel, Dane, Pep, Bozo and six others stepped off the train at a station in Prince?s Bay. Nathaniel looked around the area and adjusted his scarf and goggles.
?Keep your eyes peeled,? he stated. ?The Gerrards could be anywhere.?
?Try everywhere,? said Dane. ?We?re right behind enemy lines.?
Nathaniel nodded in agreement and began to walk down the street, followed by his men. As the ten men trekked through the alien territory, several Gerrards watched them from the shadows. An all-out bop would be dangerous in broad daylight. They had to respect The Roadmasters ? it took a lot of bollocks to walk around with your colours on in the middle of the day.

A Gerrard lieutenant decided it was wise to alert Hugo of the latest events. Sufficed to say, he was quite pleased. He had Sonny, Corky and Raven tied up in a back room and they had used Sonny?s jacket to deliver their ultimatum. Raven was looking downhearted. He blamed himself for this.

Hugo rubbed his chin in thought before looking at his lieutenant.
?Arrange a welcome party for The Roadmasters,? he said. The lieutenant nodded and left. Hugo sat down behind his desk and put his feet up, now in deep thought.

A little while later, The Roadmasters watched as one of their brood slid down a ladder jutting from a wall. His name was Bright-Eyes due to his glasses, he was of Irish heritage, but shorter than and not as athletic as the others. He had spiky, chestnut hair and hazel eyes. Despite lacking in strength, Bright-Eyes was both sneaky and swift. The best scout and memory man in the gang.

?Any news Bright-Eyes?? Nathaniel asked.
?I think I found their hideout,? Bright-Eyes replied. ?Old wax museum about four blocks away. It?s got a huge burner on it.?
?That should be the hideout then,? Nathaniel stated. ?Let?s go. I?ll ask one more time, is everyone packing??

The Roadmasters each revealed a weapon, mostly lumps of lead or wood, bats and blades. Nathaniel himself was carrying a cricket bat. He straightened his riding goggles with his free hand, threw one end of his scarf over his shoulder and gave a commanding nod. The ten Roadmasters continued their march towards the Gerrard headquarters.

Inside their prison, Raven sighed sadly.
?Sonny, Corky, I?m sorry. I got us into this mess, and I?m too chicken-shit to get us out.?
?Don?t be so hard on yourself,? replied Corky. ?We?ll get out of this, I know we will.?
Sonny remained silent, in deep meditation. He was forcing himself to remain calm. He was a soldier at the core, normally he would be trying to break free, but with two others with him it was a great risk, and Sonny was fully aware of that.

The Roadmasters turned the corner that would lead them straight to the hideout. They could see it just up ahead now, the crusty old wax museum with the distinctive burner sprayed on the front. Not surprisingly, the word ?GERRARDS,? was in green, and three leaves of a clover surrounded the G. The stem of the clover poked out underneath and streaked along the wall, underlining the logo.

Suddenly, a squadron of about thirty Gerrards stepped out from the alleys. Mostly soldiers with a few lieutenants. At their head was their Warchief, a lanky man by the name of Diver. He had scraggly, auburn hair, brown eyes and had a banana-shaped scar on his left brow. His uniform was a lieutenant outfit with a green jacket (sleeves torn off) on top.

?Roadmasters,? Diver smirked.
?We?re here for our soldiers,? Nathaniel snapped. ?Don?t make us waste you!?
?You want ?em?? Diver challenged. ?You?ll have to go through us!?
?Gladly, attack!? Nathaniel screamed.

The ten Roadmasters and thirty Gerrards let out battle cries and charged at each other. The ensuing fight was bloody. Blood and teeth flew through the air, cuts and bruises were dealt heavily, and even bones were broken. Surprisingly, The Roadmasters were victorious. Bruised, battered and bloodied, yet they survived. Nathaniel wiped the blood off his lips.

?All right, let?s go. We?re getting our men back.?

[Space Toaster]

'Wiped the blood off his lips?'

I KNEW IT! Nathaniel's a vampire!

...Just kidding.

Excellent job on this chapter, it's a great interlude before the big fight/showdown type thing. As always, I look forward to the next installment.

[Furies4life]

Agian i thank  you for this story. Keep it comoing.
Space Toaster- You Still writing?

[Space Toaster]

Well, I've been having some block with Nerd Vs. NYC, but I'm working on that. In the meantime, I'm doing another short story which I plan to post a summary of soon.

And now, back on topic.

*Sits patiently and waits for chapter 7*