Title:  The Best Laid Plans

Author: Silverkitsune

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Static Shock is the property of the WB and all other associated networks and creators. The characters of Tracy, Derrick, and Carlos however do belong to me.

Authors Note- I really don't have a specific place in the series for this thing, but let's just say it's before Ritchie became Gear.

Part 1

Derrick Larsen didn't believe in bank robbery. Not in the traditional sense anyway. He had been the witness of over 10 attempted bank robberies in the 18 years that he had spent living in Dakota City, and even as a child he'd realized that the men and women who pulled masks over their faces and strutted though crowded banks waving guns and demanding money were morons. Bank robbery was sloppy, cliché, and nine times out of ten led to an arrest. 

The problem, he'd decided one day as he'd day dreamed through biology, doodling instead of taking notes, was that people aimed too high. They wanted to get their hands on the largest amount of cash they could in the shortest amount of time. They bit off more then they could chew and ended up chocking on it. It had gotten to the point where seeing or reading about any sort of criminal in action was always funny. They all left such gaping raw holes in their plans, holes that Derrick could detect the same way a good chess player could detect his opponent's next move. The places where these weaknesses lurked were whispered to him, and he could weed them out, fix them, make them strong and whole until he had woven an entirely flawless plan out in his brain.  The only key ingredient that you really needed was patience, something everyone around him happened to be lacking.

It was through his philosophy of patience that he had come up with a way to attain the cash the bank took in everyday. But Derrick would not be following in the clumsy, fast paced footsteps of his predecessors; would not take on the entire bank itself. Instead he aimed for things that were a bit smaller. Namely, cash machines.

Cash machines, if you knew how to do it right, were always the best targets. If you only took a small amount it took people at least a day to notice that it was gone. You hit enough of them, squirreled away half of what you'd stolen, and in a few months you were rolling in cash. His people only did it once a month, always at a different bank, in a different part of town chosen at random. Tracy, a small, quick Asian girl who cops would never have looked twice at was always his right hand.  Smarter than anyone he had ever met, she was a genius with machines, and always managed to cut out any camera or alarms that might have stood in their way. Aden, a large guy with red hair shaved close to his head who, had he bothered to stay in school, would have had football coaches begging him onto their teams. Smarter then most gave him credit for on account of his size, Aden was a good guy to have on your side, even if he was a freaking chatterbox. Last was always Carlos, a good look out whose sharp eyes never missed anything.        

It was unusually early when they began that night, only 2 AM, but the cash machine on the corner of Perperdine Ave was a hard one. It would be the third one they had broken into, and while there had been enough time in-between each robbery for the police to get bored and move onto a more active criminal it didn't mean that caution wasn't going to be taken. Derrick was not going to end up in a cell; he planned too carefully for that. 

The camera already knocked out, and the censors and alarms disengaged by Tracy's handy work, Derrick was hard at work on his part of the plan, cracking the machine open.

He was half way there, a few more moments and they would have had it, when he heard his name being called.

"Derrick," Carlos hissed from the shadows of the alley where he had been placed as a look out. "Jesus –OW. Derrick!"

His head jerked up, and Derrick let his hand ghost over his bag of tools that lay at his feet ready to bolt.

"Cops?" He asked.

"No," Carlos appeared from the shadows, looking angry but still attentive, as he dragged a young blond teenager out from behind him. One of his arms was wrapped tightly around the torso of the teenager, the other held the boys wrist at a painful angle.

"He was sneaking around the building for a closer look," Carlos said sharply. "I grabbed him before he could get too far."

The blond teenager grimaced as Carlos tightened his hold, but didn't stop from struggling to free one of his arms.

"Let go of me," he demanded. "Hey man, do you have to hold on so tight?"

"Found this on him," Carlos said tossing a wallet.

Flipping it open, Derrick was greeted by a grinning student Dakota Union High School ID.

"Richard Foley," he read out loud. "Sophomore."

"People actually call me Ritchie," the kid said.

"Shut up," Derrick snapped. He had not seen this weakness in his plans, and it made him angrier then he would have thought.

"What do we do with him?" asked Aden who was peering around Derrick to get a better look.

"We'll have to-"

"Cop!"

Tracy's sharp warning broke through Derrick's thoughts and four heads snapped in the direction of her pointed finger.

"Shit," Aden said.

Ritchie had also seen the slowly creeping police car, and with a lunge tried to pull away from Carlos.

"HEL-"

The rest of his cry was silenced quickly by Carlos who had slapped his hand over the younger boy's mouth, and dragged him back into the alleyway they had just appeared from.

"Scatter," Derrick hissed back to Tracy and Aden before lunging down the same alleyway. Now hidden by the shadows, he went over to help Carlos restrain the kid who was twisting like a wild cat.

Ritchie Foley may have been a skinny 15 year old, but he was putting up a hell of a fight. Carlos had nearly lost his grip on him when Derrick pulled his fist back and punched the kid in the solar plexus. Ritchie doubled over in a low muffled moan, his glasses sliding down to the very tip of his nose.

The police car had slowed to a stop a few feet away from the cash machine, and a door opened and shut with a click. Derrick could hear footsteps heading in their direction.

"Derrick," Carlos whispered a bit panicked. "Derrick the bag."

His bag! He'd left the bag of tools out on the pavement.

"Get back to the van," he whispered to Carlos.

"What about him?"

"Bring him with. I'll figure out what to do with him later."