New York City Hall was about to explode. Citizens were calling nonstop — how could such a huge commotion stay secret?
Gunfire had echoed out from the prison, carrying across the water. Nearby residents heard it all.
City Hall fell into chaos. Phones were jammed, lines busy.
Those who couldn't get through didn't wait — they drove or took whatever they could to get down to City Hall in person.
Mayor Viktor paced in his office, scratching his head. He was nervous; the crowd outside wanted answers and he had to placate them. He didn't know how.
Arrest the attackers? Call it a terrorist event? Say it was Magneto?
He couldn't commit to anything he couldn't prove. Saying, "It was a Mutant like Magneto," was risky. What if it sparked more panic?
"Mayor, what should we do? The crowd is getting bigger — people are swarming. Decide, please," his secretary begged, breathless, as she pushed into the office.
Viktor kept pacing, stalling for time. "Wait — let me think, let me think."
"No time!" she hissed. "Just go out there and find some excuse to deflect responsibility."
That settled it. Deflect. Shift the blame. Viktor's face cleared — excellent plan.
If he couldn't solve it, he'd ensure it wasn't pinned on him.
He strode out to the plaza, where a sea of people had gathered. The crowd pressed tight; there wasn't a square foot to spare.
"F***! These are just troublemakers," Viktor muttered under his breath as he stepped onto the platform.
"Probably unemployed folks with nothing better to do."
A few sharp eyes in the crowd spotted him and instantly loaded their questions like guns.
"Mayor! Give us an explanation! We need to be safe!"
"Why was Rikers Island attacked? This is too dangerous!"
"What if prisoners escaped by swimming? How can you guarantee our safety?"
"We want assurances or we won't leave!"
One voice became many. Anger spread fast.
Viktor grabbed a megaphone. "Everyone! Quiet down if you want an explanation!"
Most of the crowd, sensing an opportunity to be heard, calmed enough to listen.
Viktor organized his thoughts and launched into the official line.
"As you know, Rikers Island houses the worst criminals — gang leaders, drug lords, violent offenders. Their associates planned this jailbreak."
"Our forces immediately sealed Rikers Island. After fierce clashes, we annihilated that terrorist cell. Yes — there were casualties among soldiers and some prisoners."
He pushed the blame onto gangs and drug cartels — universally despised enemies.
Scapegoat material, perfect for calming the crowd.
But skeptics remained. "Mayor, are you sure no one dived out and escaped?" someone shouted.
"What if they escaped and seek revenge? Those people in there are dangerous!"
Viktor clenched his jaw. "These troublemakers," he thought. Then he brazenly raised the stakes.
"Listen!" he boomed. "We can confirm no inmate escaped. And — to anyone who locates an escaped prisoner — City Hall will award five million U.S. dollars!"
Money does wonders. The crowd's mood shifted instantly. Five million dollars could change a life.
People began to murmur and disperse with purpose.
In America, many could legally obtain weapons; the idea of hunting escaped convicts suddenly felt practical.
Within minutes, some folks were already heading toward the Staten Island ferry, towards the area around Rikers, talking about where they'd search.
Even if someone had escaped, ordinary citizens thought they'd be unarmed and easier to catch.
Mayor Viktor watched the crowd thin with relief. He'd bought time — and he'd shifted panic away from City Hall.
Outside, the city moved in nervous, profit-driven motion: rumors, opportunists, and frightened citizens converging on the water.
The jailbreak hadn't just opened prison doors — it had flung the city into chaos, and a bounty had lit the fuse.
...
Author's Note:
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