A/N:I am in Boston about to visit colleges and I can't sleep a wink. So I wrote this. Sorry about spelling and such. I'll probably proof it tomorrow. Chapter two is also done, and I'm not sure how long it'll be, but it'll most likely be a lot of small chapters like this.

"You're completely irresponsible-"

Who were they to talk? They spent money like it was water and didn't listen to a word he had to say about it.

"-Insolent-"

Because it wasn't insolent at all to hate what your opponents proposed for no reason.

"-Immature-"

Of course he acted that way. He'd had to deal with idiots like them for almost two and a half centuries.

"And above all you're incapable of doing your fair share of work to keep this country headed in the right direction."

He snorted at that one. It was just too stupid.

"What is so funny, may I ask, Mister Jones?" The head of the committee asked.

Oh, but he knew better than to talk back at times like these. His humans liked thinking that they had power, and if you kept them happy you could get away with whatever you wanted without even having to break out of jail.

"Nothin', sir," he said, "Just can't shake this cold. But you know about that, don't you?" He watched the color drain from the man's face. He looked at every single person standing in front of him, wondering if anyone would have the balls to stand up to him. Seconds ticked by. Not a single one, "Well, if that's it I think I'll be heading out. Goodbye, ladies and gentlemen."

He turned around to leave the senate.

"Wait, Mister Jones," It was a woman. They did like electing feisty ones these days, didn't they?

"Yes ma'am?" he asked, looking over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised.

"This is your last warning."

Before what?

But he forced a shamed look upon his face and said, "Yes ma'am."

With his shoulders slumped, he walked out of the room. England was so full of shit when he said he couldn't act. He kept the shamed facade on until he turned the corner, where he straightened up and walked briskly out of the capitol and right to the airport. Speaking of England, he might as well give him a visit.

What did it matter? The government hated what he did when he tried to help (after all, to the Republicans he was a gay uncultured youth and to the Democrats he was a rich and powerful white man so neither of them really had him in their target demographic), and it wasn't like he was even obliged to do anything for them. They were created to take care of him. "By the people and for the people," and he was the goddamn people. It was high time he reminded them how things should be.

He didn't even bother flashing his ID (it was all very official, stating his human name, gender, and all that crap along with big red letters saying "DO NOT QUESTION OR DETAIN UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES UNDER ORDER OF THE FBI AND CIA. TO DO SO IS A FEDERAL OFFENCE"), even though it made him smile just to look at it and think of all the crap he'd pulled with it. Instead he just used his natural influence over his own people on the security so that they'd let him do whatever he wanted. He stole a sandwich and got into one of the military planes and began to tinker with the wiring. After all, a lot of their defense budget was actually spent on him anyway (dozens of burgers a day don't come cheep). Since he was probably going to be cut off for a while, he might as well take a little bonus.

Taking a bite out of his newly acquired lunch, he pulled out his Swiss army knife and cut a wire or two, disabling the tracking system on the plane. He didn't want the government onto him too soon. Thank god he knew this model inside and out. He checked all the gages, made the necessary adjustments and flew away.

"Alright," He said to himself, starting up his iPod, "Next stop, London."