csi_sanders1129 | Fic: Before It's Too Late (Reply)

Title: Before It’s Too Late
Chapters: 2/?
Author:

csi_sanders1129
Genre: Drama. Suspense. Angst. Hurt/Comfort.
Ratings: T
Word Count: 1,050
Pairings/Characters: Jason Morgan/Damian Spinelli
Synopsis: PCPD Officers have just been called to Port Charles University. Sources have informed us that an armed man has barricaded himself inside a classroom. Attempts to contact the gunman for negotiations have thus far been unsuccessful. More at 9.
Comments: Rated for what could be considered triggering topics. Written on request from

suerum . Fic is… almost completed, but I thought I’d start posting it to motivate myself to keep working on it. OC’s are mine, whether or not I want them, GH characters are not. Reviews are awesome. Enjoy!

Chapter 1 |

The twelve of them had been diligently working on their midterm exam when there had come a banging noise from the end of the hall. Had everyone in the class not already been present, Spinelli likely would have written it off as someone rushing in late and slamming the door in their haste. But, as they were the only class in session in that building, it raised a few heads amongst the group.

Then the noise was drawing closer, heavy, hurried footsteps that came to sudden stop right outside their door.

"Focus, guys." Professor Killian told them, even as he stepped toward the door.

Spinelli's eyes followed the movement apprehensively, and this, combined with his front row seat, meant that he was the first to see that something was amiss as the professor began backing up rather hurriedly. The next thing in sight was a long-barreled gun, some sort of automatic looking thing that looked utterly terrifying with its onyx black glint in the fluorescent lighting.

"Listen up," an unidentified character said, following the gun into the room. "You are all supposedly some rather intelligent people." This was said with about as much disdain as it was possible to inflect with his words, and the disgusted glare on the gunman's face portrayed similar feelings. "So, I would suggest that you all do exactly as I say. There is no way out – all the doors are barricaded. There is no one else in the building besides us. And I am the one with the gun, so I'm in control."

Spinelli froze in his seat, just as everyone else did upon the realization that this was happening. He did, however, likely have more familiarity with such a situation than most of his classmates. He was decidedly confident that he was the only one in the room currently residing with, and occasionally sleeping with, a well-known mobster that was regularly involved with hostile situations involving guns and other implements of destruction.

"What do you want with us?" The Professor asked, voice shaking.

The gunman was not pleased by this inquiry and as a result, he aimed the weapon squarely at the instructor's head. "You are kidding me, right? You are the reason I'm doing this, you! You failed me because you thought I copied off of someone else! You cost me my scholarship, you got me kicked out of school!"

Professor Killian paled as realization took him over. "I don't… Oh. Wait, yes. Richard! Richard Aldridge. You were in one of my English classes over the winter term. Y-your paper showed as eighty some percent plagiarized when it went through the databases."

"I didn't cheat! That was my paper!" The man, now identified as Richard, yelled fiercely, the gun once again crossed the room, leveling at each and every one of the students, as if to remind them that his vendetta wasn't solely focused on their Professor. With a wide sweeping gesture, he glared at his audience. "I'm sure that your Honors class here - by invitation only, as I've heard – wouldn't cheat in a million years. They're too good for that."

"They don't have anything to do with this, Richard." Killian said, trying to refocus the gunman's attention. "Why don't you just-"

He was cut off by the loud, obnoxious ringing of a cell phone, blasting some up-beat dance club song. It came from one of the girls in the back row, who must have forgotten to silence her phone before the beginnings of their exam.

"What is that?" Richard demanded, moving now to aim at her. "Turn that off! Don't answer it!"

Spinelli, seeing an opportunity to act, shoved his hand into the pocket of his coat. It had been hanging on the back of his chair through class and he hurriedly dialed 911, switching it to speakerphone. There was enough noise going on to cover any sounds that might come from the phone. His first instinct had been to call upon Jason, but he had been unsure whether or not Stone Cold would be able to answer, as he had told his protégé that he would be in business meetings while he was at class.

"Everyone!" Richard demanded, as he grabbed up the sobbing girl's cell phone. "I want everyone's phones right now! Come on now!"

There was a mad rush as the students hastened to turn over their phones, eager to comply with their captor's request. Twelve cell phones in total were handed up to the front of the room, and Richard's eyes narrowed upon Spinelli.

"Well, don't you have something for me, brainiac?"

"Alas, the Jackal does not. My phone met an unfortunate end just this morning when it fell into a rather ill-placed puddle, as it were. You can check, if you are so inclined, but I have no cell phone on my person." Spinelli lied, hoping he would not be called out on his fabrication.

The gunman fixed him with a guarded glare for a long moment, but Spinelli – used to such looks, from years of residing with Jason and dealing with Sonny – was not as affected as others would have been under such intense scrutiny. "Fine." Richard finally huffed, gathering his pile of phones up. One at a time, he stomped on the devices until nothing but empty shards were left scattered about the floor.

At the sound of the shots, Mac raced over to one of the FBI vans and Jason followed after him, despite the shouted attempts to keep him behind the police line.

"Jason, you can't-" Mac began, pausing at the back doors to prevent Jason from getting any further, but the mobster fixed him with his well known stone cold glare.

"You're not keeping me away from Spinelli." He growled out in terse response. "I'll be involved in this with or without you, your call."

With a resigned sigh, the commissioner nodded and pulled the doors open, ushering Jason into the van. "Spinelli called 911 on his phone and we can hear everything that's being said inside the room. He's been trying to talk the guy down." He explained, pressing a button so that the audio played out loud and not to the headphones of those occupying the vehicle. But there was only a daunting static silence and muffled sobbing noises.

"Rewind it." Jason demanded. "To before the gunfire."