Chapter 1: The Ordinary World
Chapter 1: Echoes of the City
The sun hung low in the Californian sky, casting a warm golden hue over the sprawling city of Los Angeles. Rust found himself a nice cozy house to rent overlooking the city in Silver Lake. He got ready to leave for his first day as a homicide detective in LA.
Rust Cohle stood before the mirror in his modest rented house, adjusting the knot of his tie with meticulous precision. The emerald green silk shimmered under the soft glow of the vanity lights, mirroring his eyes that held an enigmatic depth. As he straightened his jacket, his thoughts drifted back to the haunting memories of his past, those ghosts that danced in the shadows of his mind. He didn't burn out like he thought he would, and the case ended and was "solved". They got theirs, Marty said. They didn't get all of them, but they got the one killer. It still irked him they couldn't get all those involved.
Rust put his SIG Sauer P226 in his hip holster on his right side, grabbed his car keys, ledger and tea.
As Rust settled into his car, he ran his fingers along the steering wheel, feeling the coarse texture of the leather beneath his touch. The scent of aged upholstery mingled with the faint hint of cigarette smoke that lingered in the confined space, a remnant of its previous owner. He paused for a moment, contemplating the connection between objects and memories, how they could intertwine to create a tapestry of meaning within his mind.
As Rust Cohle guided his car through the labyrinthine streets of Los Angeles, the city began to reveal itself in fragments. Billboards towered over the roads, their vibrant colors clashing against the muted tones of the surrounding buildings. The cacophony of car horns and sirens filled the air, creating a symphony of urban chaos that resonated deep within Rust's soul.
As Rust arrived at the Hollywood Division, he was greeted by the sight of a bustling police station, a hive of activity that hummed with urgency. The building, a towering behemoth in the heart of Los Angeles, stood tall and proud, its exterior adorned with neon lights that flickered and danced like fleeting promises. They cast an ethereal glow upon the pavement below, their colors reflecting the vibrant chaos of the city.
As Rust stepped through the doors of the Hollywood Division, he was immediately enveloped by a flurry of activity. Detectives hurriedly passed by, their footsteps echoing like distant thunder, their voices reverberating off the concrete walls. Papers rustled and phones rang, creating a symphony of urgency that filled the air.
Rust's sharp eyes scanned the bustling room, taking in the scene before him. The open-concept space stretched out before him, desks lined up like soldiers on parade.
The open-concept space stretched out before Rust Cohle, desks lined up like soldiers on parade. Each desk held remnants of its occupant's personality, meticulously arranged in a symphony of clutter. Files and folders overflowed with case notes, photographs pinned to corkboards whispered secrets to anyone who cared to listen. The hum of conversation filled the air as detectives huddled together, engrossed in discussions that ranged from mundane to life-altering.
Lt. Grace Billets saw Rust walk in and scan the room, she then called out to him from her office door. "Rust Cohle, my office." She said.
Harry Bosch and his partner Jerry Edgar were sitting right near Rust who was standing, and looked up at him as he walked over to their Lt's office. "New guy?" Jerry asked, who just got back from vacation. "I believe so." Bosch said.
Rust walked into Lt Grace Billets office and shut the door then sat down.
As Rust Cohle settled into the plush leather chair in Lt. Grace Billets' office, he felt a surge of anticipation mixed with a subtle unease ripple through his veins. The room was suffused with an air of authority, the walls adorned with commendations and photographs capturing moments frozen in time. A large mahogany desk dominated the space, its polished surface reflecting the dim light that filtered through heavy curtains.
"Hi Rust, glad to finally meet you after talking to you on the phone for the past few weeks." Grace said, as she extended her hand out to shake Rust's.
Rust Cohle's hand met Lt. Grace Billets' in a firm grip, their palms interlocking for a fleeting moment. The warmth of the handshake transmitted an unspoken understanding, a connection between two individuals bound by the weight of their respective roles in the labyrinthine world of law enforcement. Rust couldn't help but notice the callouses that marred Grace's hand, evidence of years spent on the front lines, battling against the tides of darkness that threatened to engulf the city.
"Here is your badge, and I see you got your gun. Congrats, detective sergeant."
Rust's fingers curled around the cold metal of his badge, feeling the weight of responsibility settle upon him like an invisible cloak. The emblem, polished to a mirror-like shine, reflected the dim light in the room, casting a glimmering aura that seemed to beckon him into the depths of his new role. He clipped it to his belt on his left side.
"Thanks Lt." Rust said in his Texas accent.
"Your desk will be next to Harry Bosch. You don't have a partner right now, odd numbers and all that. So, be careful. If you need anyone tell me, then grab who you want, if they aren't neck deep in a case or paper work."
Rust's piercing blue eyes met Lt. Grace Billets' gaze, a flicker of gratitude shimmering within their depths. He appreciated the trust she had placed in him, allowing him the autonomy to choose his own partner when the time was right. In that moment, an unspoken bond formed between them, anchored in a shared understanding of the weight they carried on their shoulders.
Rust went to open the door, "Oh, and Rust. Good job on that case out in Louisiana. We all saw it on the news out here. Hell, I think half the country did." Grace said. Rust didn't say anything, just looked down, for a moment. Then back at the door and opened it. "Want the door shut or closed Lt?" Rust asked.
"Closed, please," Grace responded, her voice carrying a sense of authority tinged with weariness. Rust walked out then shut the door.
He walked over to his desk, which was seated right next to Bosch's, then sat down. As Rust sat in his chair, he felt at ease.
Bosch looked over then introduced himself and welcomed Rust. Same with Jerry Edgar. "Welcome names Harry Bosch. This is my partner Jerry Edgar." Rust reached out and shook their hands. "Rust Cohle." He said.
"That Louisiana State police detective Rust Cohle?" Jerry asked Rust.
"Last time I checked." Rust said, as he was logging into his computer.
Rust checked his email, Lt Grace sent him a list of detective names he would be supervising, Harry and Jerry were 2 of them, Johnson and Moore were two others. Rust would also be catching his own cases, with no partner on top of the supervising.