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.

Part 3

Authors Note: O.K, I want to thank Auro, the Saint of Oddity, and WildfireFriendship for reviewing my fic. :Big Wave: Thanks guys!

If he could have just left it alone and quit tonguing it, Derrick bet that his lower lip would have stopped bleeding at least two hours ago.  Chewing at his lower lip whenever he was stressed or frustrated was a bad habit he had had ever since he was five, and the fact that last night one of the blows the Foley kid had landed had split it wide open was not helping matters.  Along with the bleeding lip, Derrick was also sporting a black eye, courtesy of a well placed elbow, and probably would have been aching from even more annoyances if the kid hadn't taken a swing at Tracy. She may have been a small girl, but she was also a demon in a fight and most people in the neighborhood avoided physical contact with her at all costs. The Foley kid's panicked swing at her nose had earned him a punch to the jaw, and a trip into oblivion. It had made the ride back to the house a lot easier.

The four members of Derrick's small gang spent most of their time in an old run down warehouse found in one of Dakotas 'bad' parts of town, though the lines that divide the bad and good parts of town were getting harder to draw everyday. The dilapidated building only went up three floors, and the top was so run down and dangerous that it was avoided all together, but it was dry when it rained and while they wouldn't have said it kept them warm in the winter it almost keep them from freezing to death, so they stayed. They fought off anyone else who might have tried to move in because it was their territory, and it was here that they had brought the unconscious form of Ritchie Foley.

It was this kid, currently tied up, blindfolded, gagged and sitting the corner on the second floor, who happened to be the reason behind Derrick turning his lip into a meal. It was late afternoon, almost three o'clock, and they had had the kid here for 12 hours but he was still unsure on what to do with him. A plan simply refused to form in his mind, and no matter how many times he had run the problem over, passing the thought from palm to palm, none of its secret weaknesses would show themselves.

The others weren't helping.

"We should just kill him," Tracy's had said right away. "We've worked too hard for this to get messed up by some idiot kid."

 Before Derrick could tell her why that was exactly what they were not going to do Carlos had jumped in.

"Are you out of your mind, girl? Do you know how long they put you away for murder?"

"Who says we'd get caught?" she'd snapped back.

"Who says I want to become a murderer?"

Derrick had ended the argument. They weren't going to kill this kid, not if they could help it, but they couldn't let him go. His plans had been going much too well to do something stupid like that, but they'd hit a stale mate.

Running a hand through his hair, he gave himself a metal shake and pushed himself off of the wall he had been leaning against. His footsteps echoed as he crossed the room, and his knees gave a painful crack when he knelt down in front of the kid.

"Wake up," he demanded shaking the kid's shoulder roughly.

There was a small stir and the blond head lifted up.

"You thirsty?"

There was a pause, and then a nod. Reaching behind the kids head, Derrick undid the gag, shoved the scarf into his pocket and then unscrewed the cap on the bottle of water. He left the blindfold on.

"Why even bother with that?" Carlos had asked when Aden had first tied it. "It's not like he doesn't already know what we look like."

"But he doesn't know where he is, or even how many of us there are, and we are going to keep it that way," Derrick had responded.

The kid open and closed his mouth a few times, moving his jaw and taking a few deep breaths that he couldn't have managed to get before.

"You start yelling and I'm going to smack you around again," Derrick warned.

Holding the kid's chin, he tipped the bottle to his lips and let him drink. When he'd finished, Derrick recapped it and waiting in silence. Foley's tong darted out licking his dry lips, grateful for the moment of comfort the water had brought.  They were the only two in the building now, he'd sent the others out hoping the silence would give him a chance to think, and the quiet was almost unnerving.

"Did you break my glasses?" Foley asked suddenly.

"What?"

"My glasses," Foley said again. "What did you do with them?"

Aden had handed the thin metal frames to him when they had first brought Foley in, and not thinking he had shoved them into his jacket pocket.

"They're fine."

The kid nodded, and then didn't say anything until Derrick made a move to retie the gag. When his hand brushed the back of his head Foley pulled back sharply.

"You don't-," he stammered. "I mean, I won't say anything. You don't have to put that thing back on. I'll be quiet I swear."

Derrick paused, thinking it over.

"You're gunna be quite?" he asked a little sarcastically.

"Scouts honor," Foley responded.

Derrick shoved the scarf back into his pocket.

"You make one sound and I'll break your nose."

There was no response.

Derrick leaned back and sat cross legged, glad to get out of the uncomfortable kneeling position.

"What's so important about the damn glasses?" he asked wanting to kill time, and hoping that a little conversation might loosen up an idea.

"I can hardly see without them," Foley responded. "I already lost a pair last week, and my dad will freak if I lose another one."

Derrick grunted in response, his fingers drumming across the dust covered floor. His dad would freak out if he lost his glasses? Depending on what kind of man Ritchie Foley had gotten as a father there may already be a freak out in progress as a result of his missing son, and that thought made him sigh in frustration. They couldn't kill the kid. If he had been a nobody, a bum in an alley, or even an older adult, it would have been less of a problem. People were always more active when it came to missing kids, and this kid had a family, went to high school, and any investigation for a missing 15 year old would have more cops around the neighborhood then there already was. He didn't need that.

Derrick had briefly flirted with the idea of beating him up, then letting him go with the threat of more to come if he said anything, but it was too risky. Foley didn't know much, but he knew their names and had at least a general idea of what they looked like, which was enough to make him a threat, and the gang still had at least three more machines to hit. Each machine would take a month of planning each, and because of last nights set back it might be even longer than that.

His knee had fallen asleep, and Derrick shifted positions ignoring the pins and needles that filled up his leg.

What he did know was that he couldn't keep him here. Given enough time he was afraid Tracy or Aden might take matters into their own hands.  He and Carlos might not want to kill him, but Derrick would bet that if enough time went by even the two of them would be reconsidering their positions.

"I have friends here," Foley said once again breaking the silence. "A family, they'll notice if I just disappear."

"This is Dakota," Derrick said sharply unnerved that the kid had voiced what he had been thinking. "People disappear everyday."

Pushing himself up, he grabbed the water bottle and headed for the stairs. They creaked and moaned as he descended, and he was grateful to be moving farther away from the source of his problems.

He reached the last step just as Aden entered the building. The large young man was smiling and looking pleased with him self and at the sight of Derrick began to cross the room.

"Hey Derrick," he called his voice booming. "I've got the solution to our problem."

He held up a small white paper envelope as if it were a trophy he had just won in a boxing match, his grin wide.

Derrick crossed the room in a few quick strides and took the envelope, holding it between his fingers.

"How the hell is heroin going to help us?" he snapped. "You know I don't do this shit."

"It's not heroin," Aden said taking the envelope back. "This stuff is new, hard to find, really hard to find, but good."

Derrick raised an eyebrow but motioned for Aden to go on.

"They call it Lethe," Aden rushed on. "You mainline it like heroin, but this shit, this shit has some freaky side effects."

"Get to the point Aden," Derrick growled.

"Ok, ok. You shoot it up right? And within like 8 seconds you get the most incredible high. Man, your bones feel like they're made of Jell-O, you are warm and it is Shangri – La my friend. Nothing can mess with you, and you're completely oblivious of the entire lousy world for at least a day. It's the best high you'll ever have, but you don't get it for free, you got to give something back for that feeling man. You've got to pay Charon."

"Stop being so freaking poetic, if it's that good then it cost you a sick amount of cash and I want to know why it's worth my time."

"You lose three days," Aden said his smile fading. "You don't remember anything from the three days before you shot up." He paused. "I don't know why, no one does, but if you want to visit you've got to pay Charon man."

He stopped again studying Derrick's face for a reaction. He must have liked what he saw because his grin returned.

"And who the hell says I'm giving him all of it?"

Derrick reached over and took the packet back, studying it. His mind felt like it had finally managed to break down a wall that had been standing in its way, and already it was attacking this plan driving out the weaknesses and presenting them to Derrick like a long line of P.O.Ws.

If it worked the kid wouldn't remember a thing, and they would be off the hook. They would simply have to drop him off some where, the park probably, and leave.  If it didn't work then who ever found him was still going to report that the kid had been doped up which ripped away any credibility his statement might have. On the off chance that things went to Hell and the hit killed him, well, he wouldn't be happy about it, but no one would seriously look into the death of another drug using teenager in this area.

"How do you know this stuff really works?" he asked dangling the small paper package in front of Aden's nose.

Aden looked a little sheepish.

"Last time we hit a machine Carlos and I did some celebrating."

"And?"

"When we shot up it was a Monday, I still can't tell you what I did Saturday or Sunday."

Derrick put the package in his pocket.

"Good, we'll do it tonight."