I was on his trail after his first victim. The only thing I knew about him, besides what he enjoyed doing to children, was that he apparently had some sort of waste processing failure which turned his skin yellow and made him smell god awful. According to Penguin, he supposedly showed up at his club, throwing money around. He had plenty to spend and didn't mind showing it off. At one point, he had a few too many drinks and started making unreasonable demands, threatening to "call my dad" if they weren't met.

When he allied himself with Scarecrow, he gained enough temporary protection to get another victim and kidnap a third. Luckily, I knew Crane's MO and was able to track both of them down before the third victim could be killed or worse. His voice was shrill, high-pitched. "Dammit, Crane," he whined as he pulled his berretta, "You said he wouldn't show up." While I was dealing with Scarecrow, he escaped but I had a room filled with cronies to interrogate, so someone was bound to know something. I started going through arrest records. No one seemed to have much information so it was likely he was from out of town. Perhaps he brought some friends?

Most of the men were from Gotham. They were typical lowlives who often did dirty work for the likes of the Scarecrow or Joker. Two of them, however, were from Basin City; they were certainly not locals. Basin. Otherwise known as Sin City. A place that could be Gotham's twin sister if I didn't have anything to say about it. Their names were Burt Shlubb and Douglas Klump, a.k.a. Fat Man and Little Boy. They seemed pretty talkative so I paid a visit while they were in holding.

"Mr. Klump," the little one said as he woke up from his cot, "I wish nothing more than to alarm you but it seems that we have a most intimidating visitor. One with whom we are too well acquainted."

"Indeed, Mr. Shlubb," the fat one wore a dog collar and had awful hygiene, "I had but one wish while staying in Gotham and that was to never set eyes on the Batman again and yet, he is in our presence once more. One wonders if this horror is nothing more than a nocturnal vision spawned from my subconscious as I slumber."

"I daresay that your theory is erroneous, for we face a very harsh reality, Mr. Klump."

"Quiet. Both of you," I knew this wouldn't take long so I got down to business, "You're from Basin City. Your employer was as well. Who is he?"

"Far be it for me to speak for my associate but I believe it's fair to say that we do not understand the meaning of your question, sir."

I hefted Shlubb up by his shirt collar, "I'm talking about that yellow bastard you work for! Who is he? Where is he? And who is his father?"

"Mr. Shlubb," Klump was now hiding behind the cell toilet, "We face a conundrum. We do not wish to betray our employer out of fondness of our ability to breathe. And yet, I do believe that if we do not speak in earnest, we face consequences of the most violent and extreme from our current visitor. Consequences that could perhaps be far greater than those we face from our employer?"

"I share your concern, Mr. Klump."

I threw Shlubb into Klump's face and said nothing. I allowed them the opportunity to talk. As I said, it did not take long. "H-His name is ... ," Shlubb began, but he was cut off by the sound of the cell door opening. Gordon came through the door, followed by a federal agent who was a tall, bald man with an eagle tattoo across his face. "I'm sorry," was all that Gordon said. The agent didn't introduce himself and said little more than, "By orders of Senator Roarke, I am to take these two into custody." Just like that, these two thugs were released. It was obvious why. Someone didn't want them to talk. Someone powerful. Perhaps the agent gave me the answer I was looking for when he mentioned a Senator Roarke?

As the two thugs were brought out into a helicopter, Gordon pulled me aside. "There may be more trouble ahead," Jim told me, "There was a breakout in Arkham." I asked for a list:

Two-Face, Poison Ivy, Riddler, Mr. Zsasz, Killer Croc ...

... and the Joker.

Damn. Why does this always happen? No matter how many times I put them away, they come back. Sometimes I wonder how much good I'm really doing. I had no time to waste on emotion. I immediately began to track them down but they didn't seem to be leaving their usual calling cards. No riddles. No games. No traces whatsoever. The breakout was almost immediately after the Yellow Bastard Case so I worked on a hunch. I visited Scarecrow.

"I was wondering when you'd show up," he explained, "After I told them about that fellow from Basin, they were ecstatic. Sin City is quite well known amongst us, but to hear of the exploits of one of its finest citizens first hand . . . No, I didn't catch his name. He was little more than a prop to me. I found him distasteful. I'm a psychiatrist, not a psychopath, after all . . . At any rate, they simply would not stop asking about . . . Well, yes, of course . . . It's a city without you, dear boy. A city without law or order. It's a perfect playground for their ilk . . . Not for me, of course. As I said, I'm not a psychopath . . . And you should have heard their reaction to that. Two minor henchmen were snatched from your grasp. It was obvious you had no control over Sin City. That's why they decided to see the place for themselves."

I placed Dick and Tim in charge of the city with Barbra on scanner duty. I told my co-workers I was going to Basin for business. "I wonder if Bruce isn't just going over there for Old Town," I overheard one of them say. They think they know me. If all they know is Bruce Wayne, then they know nothing but a mask. My real identity has a job to do. I'm going to Basin. I'm coming back with six friends.