(So here's some random fanfic I've started...whhheeee, summary in a nutshell...Mad Mod and Punk Rocket have teamed up for some random reason, oh yes and Mad Mod is not the guy you're picturing, in this, his tricked out cane lets him become a teenager that actually looks relativly ok...like I mean normal animeish nose, regular teeth, you know nicer to look at...it could happen I've seen fanart that shows it!)

"So tell me, why do you hate America?"

Mad Mod turned to the younger brit and scowled,

"I've alrea'y told you"

"Tell me again I've forgot"

"I don't hate America I just hate every bloody sod in this country"

"Ok why?"

"You ask to many questions are you tha' stupid?"

Punk Rocket rolled his eyes and lazy strummed his guitar, biting his lip to keep from retorting. Having escaped from prison he'd searched for the redhead brit and made him an offer. Together they could get what they wanted, while, Punk Rocket reflected bitterly, by themselves they just kept getting their arses kicked.

"So how exactly do you plan to go about doing this whole 'Take America in the name of Jolly Old England'?"

"You'll see"

"I suppose I will" Punk Rocket began to play 'Johnny B Rotten' on his guitar for lack of anything better to do.

They were waiting on top of a building that overlooked the pizza place where the titans happened to be sitting, waiting to make their move.

"But I still don't get the bloody point of that" the white-haired male finally admitted.

"Of course you bloody woul'n't" Mad Mod growled

"Why because I'm not mad as a hatter?"

"Keep talking you snotty brat"

"What are you going to do?" Punk Rocket taunted "as a matter of fact what could you do?" he smirked at the redhead "you're an old man"

Mad Mod rolled his black eyes and turned his back to the idiot.

"Don't ignore me you wanker" it was Punk Rocket's turn to scowl "I want to know what YOU could do to m-"

Without missing a beat-or turning around- the redhead stabbed the younger boy in the stomach with the end of his cane, making Punk Rocket double over and groan.

"Ouch, tha' ruddy hurt you blighter"

"Rubbish I di'n't even hit you that hard"

"Not that hard, my arse!" Punk Rocket screeched indignantly

"I don't care about your arse" Mad Mod retorted smoothly

"Good, I don't need some ruddy old guy caring about my arse!"

"Would you just shu' up?" Mad Mod asked, rolling his eyes "You're like a bloody child!"

"Fine" Punk Rocket said petulantly

"Thank you"

After a few more minutes of blissfull silence Mad Mod felt himself grow impatient.

"Oh sod it" he groaned "I say we just hit 'em now"

"What? And get our arses kicked?"

"What is with you an' arses?" Mad Mod asked

"Nothin'...what are you talking abou'?" Punk Rocket asked, raising a dark eyebrow.

"Forget it...white isn' your natural hair color is it?" Mad Mod replied, his black eyes glancing at Punk Rocket's equally black eyebrows.

"Where the 'ell did tha' come from?"

"I don't really know"

(This is random, I know a bit of british terms but not enough to make proper british conversations for two british psychos...anyway ya, Mad Mod looks like he's seventeen and Punk Rocket is nineteen, so review)