Tin Cans and Missing Hands

Chapter 1

"You can't escape this, it's all over now.. Just give in.. Let us win.." A voice echoes, raspy and seemingly full of anger.
"It's not like you can stop me or them, we rule the city, and now, the world.." It speaks once more, harsher. A boy jerks from his sleep, his scuffy brown hair ruffled. Reaching up, he wipes warm drool from his lip.
"Ugh.. Disgusting.." He sighs, carelessly wiping his hand on the sheets. Sitting up from his long slumber, he reaches to his nightstand, grabbing a pair of black and soft sky blue hipster-like glasses. Unfolding the arms, he slides them onto his nose.
"Much better.." The boy yawns, standing up and adjusting his boxers.
"Oh joy, another boring day of summer vacation." He grumbles, rolling his eyes and trudging across the hardwood floor of his bedroom. He looks around, lazily, trying to find a shirt. No luck. Growling, the boy wanders to a mirror, looking at his poor appearance. A shirtless, tall boy stands in front of him in the piece of glass, his cheeks and the bridge of his nose dotted with freckles, along with his shoulders and arms.
"What a mess I am.." He sighs, pinching his flat, soft torso. Looking in the mirror, he grabs a comb, running it though his hair. It flops to the side, as if meant to be there.
"You're such a weirdo, Mark." He sneers to himself, pulling up his boxers once more, a light cyan with grey and white sheep covering them all around. Shifting his legs awkwardly, looking down, he scowls.
"I hate the mornings.." Mark walks around his mess of a bedroom, attempting to find something decent to wear. He grabs a pair of black jeans, thick water-proof boots, a dark cyan colored T-shirt, with the words Art in a Frame, is Like an Eagle in a Bird Cage, and a grey hoodie, also with writing, but different. It read A Person Who Cannot Give Up Anything Can Change Nothing. His favorite outfit. The soft creak of the floorboards beneath him filled the air as he put on his clothing, piece by piece.
"Where to go today.." Mark mumbles, grabbing his cyan and lime green scarf, draping the cloth around his neck. Picking up a string bag and his phone, he walks down the short flight of stairs, and jumps from the second to last, onto the floor, before walking into the kitchen.
"Mornin mum." He smiles softly, walking over and grabbing a magenta colored fruit from the bowl on their counter.
"Hello Markie! Glad to see you slept well, seeing as you haven't the past few days." She smiles, handing him a travel cup of coffee.
"I said don't call me Markie" Mark replies, looking off to the side and taking the cup, popping it open and drinking the warm liquid.
"And I slept somewhat better." He coughs, accidentally inhaling the coffee. His mother snickers, before kissing his cheek and walking back behind the counter.
"Have a good day, and be safe, I love you!" She chuckles, continuing to slice the brown looking food item on the cutting board. Mark nods happily.
"I love you too Mom" He walks to the door and opens it, stepping outside onto the front deck, shutting the door behind him.