Sin City: The Yellow Bastard by Frank Miller.
Title: Sin City: The Yellow Bastard.
Author/Artist: Frank Miller.
Genre: Graphic novel, fiction, crime.
Country: U.S.
Language: English.
Publication Date: 1996.
Summary: The graphic novel introduces the only truly heroic figure in Sin City's world of vice, Detective Hartigan. The worst thing to be in Basin City is an honest cop, but it's Hartigan's last day on the job, and he plans to go out with a bang. Little Nancy Callahan, age eleven, has been kidnapped by a psycho who likes to hear children scream, and Hartigan's going to find her no matter what it takes. No matter who the psycho's daddy is. All the prison time in the world won't change that. Hell of a way to start retirement...
My rating: 8.5/10.
My review:
♥ "Did you feel like a big man, pulling that trigger? Did that make you feel powerful? Well, let me tell you a thing or two about power! Power doesn't come from a badge or a gun. Power comes outta lying and lying big and getting the whole damn world to play along with you. Once you got everybody agreeing with what they know in their hearts ain't true, you got 'em trapped. You're the boss. You can turn reality on its head and they'll cheer you on."
♥ "I love you"--that was the last thing skinny little Nancy Callahan said to me, when she left my hospital room all those months ago.
She's just a kid, Nancy is. Just a scrawny eleven-year-old with her whole life ahead of her. Her whole life. I saved it back then and I'm still saving it, I'm still keeping Nancy from getting murdered, just by keeping my mouth shut and not giving them even a whisper of a reason to drag her into this mess. That's about all there is left of me, protecting skinny little Nancy Callahan.
Past worrying. Past giving a damn. I'm a husk, a scarecrow, a beat-up, used-up old man. There's nothing inside of me. Nothing. Except...
...Except one tiny, burning chunk of me that won't let me cave in and sign a false confession.
Why do they even want me to? They've got all the evidence they need to send me up the river for the rest of my life. What they didn't plant they manufactured, tons of it, enough to convict a hundred men. Why the hell do they need me to put my signature on their pack of lies? I don't know why it matters to me and I don't know why it matters to them.
They want a confession.
They won't get it.
♥
♥
An old man dies, a young woman lives. Fair trade.
I love you, Nancy.