The_Rogue_Monk takes a draw on his phantom cigarette then throws it to the ground, where it disappears in a puff of blue smoke. "Your sad North Side Mob doesn't stand a chance, my dear." He reaches through his head to tip a blood-stained fedora; then he spins on his heel and floats across the roof leisurely with a cruel smirk on his face, watching the citizens select their next victim.