Slaves of black static

Before being blasted directly by the thick sunbeams that illuminated the swirling oceans of dust fairies, a heavy coating of sleep slid off my eyelids, and with a furious clenching and unclenching, my world opened up onto an unfamiliar ceiling. That's not entirely true, it's just that everything looks unfamiliar while you're groping around a Prussian blue darkness, still muddled with tiredness and trepidation.
The tiny lamp sitting against the left bedside counter didn't afford much in the way of illumination, but that warm tangerine glow created a nice atmosphere, so I didn't have the motivation to replace the bulb. Pulling open the curtains washed the room over in a lighter azure from the receding moon, and the low roar of the city sprawling ahead of me, the slow hum like a ripcord had been pulled on some extremely sluggish machine somewhere deep in the heart of the valley, shrouded by the rows of grey apartment complexes and the reflective sheen of department stores and offices. Living at the fringes, while it took a decent walk to enter the main districts, I was lucky enough to have such a great view of the encircling mountains and dazzling cityscape that most of the tiredness still weighing on me had evaporated.
After slipping on some decent clothes, which in my case, consisted of a black jacket and baggy set of pants, unchanged from high-school despite the relentless teasing of my sisters, I popped two pieces of toast in that faded silver toaster stolen from home, set the kettle, and caught my chipped nail against the wool of my under-sweater, causing the ground coffee I was holding to spurt out against the tabletop. 
Damn, I guess I was too tired to file that down yesterday.
This is why you don't file away problems as a 'tomorrow's me' issue.
Tomorrow's me doesn't always remember what today's me thinks.
While I walked over to the bathroom, noticing as the lustre from the hallway skylight flittered above my head that the wound running across my fingers and down to my wrist, like an electrical current frozen in demonstration of how the nervous system operates, had begun to well and bleed.
Just then, a tiny beeping resounded from the bedroom.
I trudged back into that Prussian hue and rummaged around the right-hand bedside table, knocking a set of oddly balanced books against the floor, before clamping down on the small flip-phone that was sending that ghastly sound across the whole house.
With a low click, I pressed the cold plastic screen and metal keypad against my ear.
"Yo"
"You awake?" returned a sleek, smooth voice, the kind of balance between hardened and velvety that makes you think you're hearing a voice actor or radio presenter speak, rather than a real person. It's thrown me off a couple of times. Harkittu, the silver-eyed, neatly cropped, perpetually well-dressed and pretty stuck-up guy only a handful of ranks above me.
It's not like I disliked him enough to shun his calls, but a mixture of reluctance to be pulled away from breakfast and the grogginess that acts like sludge, weighing down simple trains of thought until their wheels are bogged down in goo, left me dazed and silent.
Not sensing any response coming his way, Harkittu sighed quietly and gracefully enough to not come across as rude, but just a little tired, before explaining that we had been called out for a job in about thirty minutes. Lucky for me, it was right around this neighbourhood, so I would probably have time for breakfast. He didn't let it slip, but he was probably pretty jealous.
Just like me, he values a nice breakfast and coffee.
It might just be the only thread pulling us closer together.
Although, both of us are adults, so getting along with coworkers is something we do anyway...
Like hell!
As if something so dreary and banal as that is going to bring us together!
And adults?
Give me a break!
Adults backstab their coworkers when they need a bit of extra cash, and just the other day, a guy from seventh division was rumoured to have let his partner take a pretty heavy hit just so that he could take the guy's next job, all the while pretending it was out of kindness, and splitting the payout halfway with him!
That's the kind of adult that lives in this world, one who manages to make an extra couple of dollars all the while seeming like a good guy, while his friend is left with a broken rib!
...that's the kind of thing that bursts out in the early spring mornings, where the cool temperature lulls you into thinking you're alone in the world, and the soft jade gradients of the mountains and azure of the horizon warps your thoughts into melancholy. 
But, at the end of the day, that's the world we live in.
"I'll be there. Do you want me to bring some toast? Only jam, right?"
"Yes... that would be nice, thank you."
I won't be one of those adults. 

Between the bursts of marble frost from my cracked and chattering lips, the same calmness of the mountains pervaded the narrow pathways and rows of traditional, semi-modern houses. Wedges of cold grey concrete, split by almond hardwood and bamboo, all veiled by chrysanthemums and zelkovas, and snowbells layered the streets in snow-like white. Against one of the small apartments, copper-tinged Bishop's hats crawled against cream walls, and a mound of shiny black shoes were tipping from the small wooden rack leaning against the entrance. Above, balconies were furnished with pop plants and dangling flowers, and most people had hung their laundry in anticipation of the warm weather, mostly clean white dress shirts or blouses, since most people here worked office jobs further in the city. 
Despite all the physical training I had to undergo for my job, I guess carrying around a heavy grocery bag still pains you no matter how fit you are, and while swapping to my other hand, I peered down at the rim of raw pink pressed into my fingers. 
As I headed down a smaller road, a downwards incline sheltered on both sides by storefronts and old, moss-coloured pines, and opening on the left to a small playground hugged by tall apartment complexes on either side, I could smell the faint burning of a cigarette. 
I looked to my side, still strolling downwards, and my gaze fell upon an older woman with prominent features as she dragged the smoke from her cigarette across the deep azure sky.
I guess I wouldn't have to detour after all.
"Hey, Miss, you shouldn't be smoking. It's bad for your looks, you know? Nobody wants yellow teeth, especially not a woman."
With such a tactless remark, my leather boots cracked against the dusty copper gravel while her hair streamed back against her face as the wind picked up and carried both into the horizon.
"Haha! No wonder you're single and holed up in that apartment of yours."
"Oi oi, I go out once a day on my bike. Hell, you say hello to me almost every time you see me."
"You sound like a kid trying to worm his way into extra time on the PlayStation."
Since I didn't have all that much time to spare, I fished around the opaque white bag, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, an old PrettyCure lighter, and the week's Shoujo Magazine.
"Here, don't worry about owing me."
"Oh? How evil, calling out a woman for smoking then handing her a lighter and cigarettes" she giggled, a smirk washing out the melancholy of her morning features. That pained grimace was gone for a while.
"Well, I would love to make fun of you a little more, but I've got an assignment this morning-"
Gah, I forgot to stop myself. 
I peeked at her from the side, pretending to glance down at my right wrist for the time.
Mmm, I guess she didn't seem too rattled.
"It's fine it's fine, go along errand boy" came laxly as she waved a hand, sending smoke in circles around her.
I didn't bother correcting her, even though I had moved on from that errand boy job a while ago.
Maybe it's her way of ignoring my current employment.
Ah well, adults all need to cope in some way or another.
With a wave of my hand behind my head, I started back up the tight road I had come from, with the quietly approaching sunlight creeping up against my neck, illuminating that woman's languid, worried eyes.

It wasn't that long before I reached the outlined residence, but the sun had nevertheless begun to stream harshly thought the leaves, and left the bottom layers of the generic apartment block in a kaleidoscope of shadow and light.
It seemed like I was the first one to arrive, so I plumped down on the low concrete wall surrounding the place, and pulled out the rest of the contents of the grocery bag. 
Mhm, hairspray, an actually kind of expensive plastic fan, and a cheap lighter.
Standard, boring, but hey, it gets the job done.
At least we knew what kind of thing this assignment was.
Last time, none of us had been briefed, and so coming in with any supplies was a gamble.
Lucky, Harkittu had been fortuitous enough to be running around on edge that whole day, and hadn't had time to return the things he had bought to his apartment, vinyl polish included.
Well, anyway, it didn't seem like anybody had arrive yet, so for now, I could gaze up innocently at the warm gradients pushing against the deep blue sky, like the reflection of the glowing sun against the swelling waves.
Against my neck, the long trails of curls felt rough against the concrete, and the bangs shielding my right eye from the world lapped lightly against my skin. 
Swallowed by the sky, everything seemed more vivid, like I could feel the tiny footsteps of the caterpillar crawling beside my head, making its way across the narrow wall to the foliage separating this block from the next, and that same, low rumble of a city coming to life.
Even at this angle, the mountains, sweating jade forests and tipped with a pearl coating that gave way to pallid grooves of rock, made their presence known.
But, I didn't have long to drown myself in the serenity of birds happily chirping, and the soft song of rustling alongside the cool breeze prickling my cheeks.
"Hey, what's with the bag?"
"Huh? Oh."
Unconsciously, I guess I had been fiddling with the stuff I had pulled out, because there was a look of annoyance spreading swiftly across Harkittu's face. 
Ahem, sorry, against Sorrow's face...
While I'm not usually that kind of person, I will jump to this guy's defence, and say that these unfortunate nicknames are courtesy of out logistics officer, and not up to our own choice.
"Good job, Jane"
...okay, maybe it was less defending Sorrow, and more trying to preempt the reveal of my own embarrassing codename.
Yeah, I'm pretty sure she was aware of the gender discrepancy, but I guess her heart was set on me being a Jane.
"Don't let this take too long. It shouldn't, but you never know what might happen" he commented, rubbing his cheek and dragging the hair from his eyes. It seemed like he had barely woken up, and had already made the trip out here, decked in his usual outfit of endless zippers and chains, heavy metal boots, and fingerless gloves, without so much as washing the sleep from his face. It seemed his dreams were still stuck tightly to his skin.
"So it might take long? Are you trying to trip me up with these mixed messages?"
"Ah, no, but, just be careful... I'm not fully lucid right now..."
Haha!
Like a child too tired to answer correctly, slurring his words and using the wrong tenses, Sorrow was kind of meek and pathetic like this.
"Anything from your Rabbit Hole?"
"Not really... Honestly, it seems kind of dimmed today."
"I suppose neither of us are at our best... What's HQ thinking, giving us day-workers such early missions."
"Giving the day-shift an early job, or the night-shift a late job... Not much choice."
"Yeah, I suppose so. Let's head in" came almost silently from his clenched lips, like he had given up on the sentence midway through.
Something other than sleep was weighing him down.
In his scarlet irises, whirling against the lenses was a film of relentless courage, but today, it seemed that snowflakes of surrender had dropped against them, melted down to liquid and left ripples that pushed his eyelids lower, and seeped down to his lips, leaving a languidness similar to the woman smoking in the park.
But whatever it was, it didn't matter right now.
As he pulled open the creaking metal gate, squinted up at the long rows of hallways and stairs, Sorrow slowly extracted a glinting, sleek silver blade from his stomach without even a grunt of pain, and carefully took a cloth from inside his coat, wiping the blade clean of his blood. If he didn't, we would be left scrubbing the cobble pathway of those crimson splatters for however long it took to eradicate any evidence of his Rabbit Hole.
Luckily, I wasn't so talented or sought after.
I could bleed as much as I damn wanted, and nobody would be worried in the least.
Finished with his routine, Sorrow rested the blade against his shoulders, and signalled to move forward.
At that moment, a scream resounded across the block, probably spreading down into the other complexes and winding streets, and raised the hairs on both our necks simultaneously, only elevating our tension when it didn't cease after a moment, like we expected it to, but continued to ring out like a siren, growing in ferocity.
Those sorrowful scarlet eyes whipped around to mine.
"It's going to wake the neighbourhood, draw attention. Call in help, now!" he grimaced, having to raise his voice towards the end against the onslaught of noise.
With a nod, I bolted back out into from the courtyard, dashing back down the narrow streets, trying hopelessly to get out of range and call in some assistance.
It didn't look like anywhere was going to be any less polluted with that shrill crying, so I relented, flipping open my phone and pressing down the keys with difficulty. It's surprisingly hard to do anything with an annoying racket pounding against your eardrums. While I continued rushing out deeper into the urban sprawl, away from the screaming, I almost toppled a woman walking down the street, carrying a handbag across her shoulder and releasing puffs of marble haze into the morning air.
"Ah! Oh, it's you!"
"Miss, are you okay?"
"Huh, uh, yeah, you just surprised me is all" she sputtered, and like she had really taken that comment earlier to heart, seemed embarrassed at having been caught with a cigarette in her mouth, and hurriedly put it out against the trunk of the overhanging zelkova.
But her words surprised me for a different reason, other than her usual stubborn attitude seemingly dissolving before me.
Rather, it was the fact that she was so calmly apologising, but for a different reason entirely.
"You don't hear that noise?"
"Hm? Mmmm... Unless you mean that usual morning hum of birds and leaves and such, not really."
Was this good, or bad?
Well, simply put, it was good that this wasn't affecting anybody other than us, but that signalled a deeper kind of danger.
Just how traffic stops are actually way more dangerous when all the lights are green, rather than red, a sense of security here was only false - green was not safe, and red was sanctuary.
"I'm sorry, I have to go. Please keep smoking, if you feel like it!" I yelled behind me, dashing back up the way I had come, feeling like I really was back to my errand boy days after all.
Leaving the woman with a slightly bewildered, but mostly annoyed expression on her face, I pushed against the sleepiness still heaving against my back like some unwanted brat picked up on the way home.
Because it was only announcing itself to us, only two instances were possible.
One, it was a powerful speciality, since the more concentrated on those with Rabbit Holes these monsters are, the more concentrated their connection to Wonderland. Monsters with enough positioning in the collective consciousness to be seen, heard, smelled, felt by normal people generally had less of a foot in Wonderland.
Two. It was luring one of us in, and one of us out. What's worse, they weren't mutually exclusive.
I had to reach Sorrow, before that screaming was punctuated with a whole new pitch.