|Original Illustration by Justin Wasson|
This city gets to a man. Maybe it’s all the busted dreams and the way they seep into the pavement like acid rain, bleaching the color out of things and making them dirty. You either come out here to make it big or die in the gutter. There ain’t much of a middle ground in the City of Angels. It wasn’t always so filthy here, but the Talkies and the War changed everything. They brought the real money, and the money eventually brought the bots. Nowadays, when a man needs a finger or two of scotch to cut through the grime of a tough day on the job, it’s served by a bucket of bolts that can ask you how your day went, even if it doesn’t have the brains to listen. Most of the time, that’s okay. When I was on the force, they had head shrinkers for that sort of thing, but I prefer the bots because they don’t talk back, or give sympathetic nods while counting away the minutes on the clock and scribbling gibberish in their notebooks. The bots don’t think they can fix you. If there’s one thing my old days on the homicide beat ever taught me, it’s that some men can’t be fixed.
It pleases me greatly to bring this book into the world after so many years of dreaming about it. Colt Coltrane is a little different from your average dimestore throwback pulp story. It's a thrilling mix of the past, present, and future, combining all the elements of storytelling I hold most dear to me. There will be more media and news about Colt as time rolls on, including more artwork and of course more volumes to the story. In the meantime, I hope you'll take a stroll through my grungy Golden Age world where and down on his luck gumshoe and his pet robot have a grisly string of murders to solve, and let me know what you think about it. Thank you, as always, for walking with me.