A/N: I give you full rights to stab me with the weapon of your choice. I'M SO SORRY EVERYONE. It's been so long, and this chapter is terrible... Ugh.. At least it's here? Anyway, recently I realized that "Lars" is actually used for the Netherlands. -headdesk- I did not realize this at all, and assumed it was given to Norway because Lars and Mathias are together so often. Oh well, I guess it's fine. I DID pick out a name for the Netherlands, so it's not like he's been forgotten.

Now I would like to thank my reviewers in particular and offer to commit seppuku for them, because I feel even worse about not updating because they're there.

Traffic Control – Turquoise

Sadiq Anan hated his job.

When I say "hate," I'm not talking about the flimsy dislike which people throw around likely. I'm talking about the sort of full blown resentment that comes from your whole family being killed or something along those lines.

Granted, nothing like that had ever happened to Sadiq, but still...

He hated his job.

He hated the long hours, the low pay, the lack of vacation time. He hated his uniform. He hated his coworkers: his stoic boss; the loud, annoying man (who he was positive had a partner, but he could never remember just who it was); that bastard who was always napping with at least one cat.

Especially the cat-napping Greek.

But most of all he hated the job he was forced to do every single day.

Traffic control.

Sure, he knew he was new to the force, but really, he'd even take paperwork over that.

Instead he was stuck wearing a ridiculous neon-orange vest and standing at one of the busiest intersections in town.

At least he got to yell at people.

"HEY! YOU! THAT'S AT LEAST TEN MILES OVER THE SPEED LIMIT! SLOW DOWN! AND YOU OVER THERE! DON'T THINK I MISSED THE FACT THAT YOU DIDN'T HAVE RIGHT OF WAY!"

He quickly scribbled the license plate numbers down on his trusty notepad, noting each offense besides their respective numbers.

A black SUV chose the next moment to run a red light.

"I SAW THAT!" He bellowed. Sadiq glanced at the license plate and wrote the number down, but...

"Who the hell would be stupid enough to put that on their plate?" He muttered, looking down at what he had written.

LUVBEER.

Really, did this guy even think?

"Hey, Officer Beilschmidt!"

"Oh, hey, new guy! Shift just end?"

"Yeah, Just wanted to ask," Sadiq held out his notepad, "is this your license plate number?"

The albino scrutinized the paper for a moment. Then,

"As much as I love beer, I'd have to be an idiot to drive around with that on my car. Much more trouble than it's worth."

'You are an idiot,' The Turk though, but wisely chose not to voice his views.

"Ask Francis." His senior suggested. "If anyone would know, it's be him."

"I'll do just that. Oh, just a warning... I passed by the Purple Division earlier, and Officer Braginski seemed to be out for blood. Specifically yours."

Gilbert threw him a cocky smirk. "I know."

"Ah, Officer Anan!" The Frenchman greeted him. "How may I be of service?"

"Officer Beilschmidt told me that you might be able to help with this." Sadiq said as he flashed his notepad.

Francis leaned forward to read it, swishing his wine around in his mouth pensively.

"I wonder... Yes," He announced. "I may know who this belongs to, I just need to double check."

"When can you let me know?"

"Very, very soon! Wait here for a moment, s'il-vous plaît."

The Frenchman got up and opened the door. "LARS!" He screeched, and the Turk heard clattering and swearing from the next room.

"He'll be with us in just a moment," He said, smiling sweetly.

Sadiq was not disappointed. True to Bonnefoy's word, the door opened again a minute later and Officer Vea stepped in.

"Was that really necessary, Bonnefoy?"

His coworker opened his mouth to speak, but the Norwegian lifted his hand in a gesture for him to stop. "On second thought, please don't answer that. Officer Anan," He nodded in greeting to the traffic officer, then turned back to Francis. "What is it you want?"

We were wondering if this license number belongs to a certain Mathias Langer?"

Sadiq held up the notepad.

"It's his," Lars confirmed. "He mentioned it while trying not to answer my questions. Even gave me the spelling."

"Well," The head of the Violet Division said joyfully, "there's your man!"

Lars, however, looked a little more than skeptic. "Who's driving that?"

The Turk raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you just tell us that?"

Officer Vea shot him a look. "Mathias Langer is in custody, so who is driving that?"

Francis frowned and Sadiq blinked. "Now that... is a very good question."

A/N: Well there you have it. Chapter something-or-other. I think six? Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. I'd appreciate it if you reviewed, but that's really up to you in the end, isn't it? Regardless whether you review or not, thanks for reading!