It was a gloomy night at Vile Island. So gloomy and humid. The humid gloom illumed the blue room as the goons loomed.

Coach Brunt had been stomping ceaselessly around the main table-desk-whateveryouwannacallit, getting more and more angry with each stomp.

"IT'S BEEN 2 HOURS!" roared Coach Brunt, grabbing and ripping a metal support pole out of the wall.

"Hush, Coach Brunt." Professor Maelstrom was leaning back in his chair with a towel on his neck, his face slathered with green and his eyes covered by a pair of cucumber slices. Having just applied a $500 anti-aging Moroccan Ghassoul face mask, he was incredibly meditative and calm.

"Hush, Professor Maelstrom," said Countess Cleo, who leaned beside him with a purple $800 anti-aging Mayan clay face mask, zucchini eyes, and embroidered towel, and was even calmer and more meditative than he was.

Professor Maelstrom shifted angrily in his seat.

"I'M HUNGRY, CONSARN IT!" Coach Brunt cracked open the metal pole with her thigh.

"The sushi is on the way," the green anti-aging mask snapped under his breath. "Right, Dr. Bellum?"

She quickly closed a Buzzfeed quiz. "Huh? What?"

"The sushi, Dr. Bellum. Has Grubhub sent you a text estimating its arrival?"

Dr. Bellum looked confused. Then scared. Then furious. She closed her screen and began spitting, "Clearly, you all did not remind me not - I - you didn't give me the CVV for the company credit card, I hadn't - "

"DR. BELLUM!" roared the face mask.

"Oh my God," sighed Countess Cleo.

"AAAARRRGGGHHHH!" Coach Brunt's fist left a visible dent on the steel wall.

It was 12:32 AM, and Zack and Ivy were biking downhill in Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, passing palm trees and Spanish restaurants. They were in Las Palmas, part of the small Canary Islands off the shore of Northwest Africa. Carmen Sandiego was STILL checking the Castillo de la Luz to make sure V.I.L.E. hadn't stolen anything, leaving the siblings bored and hungry and wishing V.I.L.E. stole something so Carmen could let them go back to the airport and get in their private jet already.

"No WiFi!" cried Zack, slowly pedaling his Rent-a-Bike. "NOW how are we gonna find garlic bread at an affordable price?"

"They don't have garlic bread here, you weeb! We're on the Canary Islands off the shore of Northwest Africa. Their tapas are in Español, not Italiano."

The Rent-a-Bike screeched to a halt. "Did you just call me a weeb?!"

Ivy laughed cruelly, and stopped the bike to pull out her phone. "Yeah, LOL! I just found all the Naruto fan art on your old DeviantArt! NOW who's the one with the cringy OCs?!"

"I THOUGHT THERE WAS NO WIFI HERE!" screeched the forlorn Bostonian weeaboo.

As her brother burst into humiliated tears, Ivy turned around and said, "Well whaddaya know. Garlic bread at an affordable price!"

"REFRESH! REFRESH!" screamed Coach Brunt, hitting the button on Dr. Bellum's computer as fast as her finger would allow. Unfortunately, both Grubhub and Seamless showed zero results in her area.

Countess Cleo looked appalled as she examined multiple takeout menus from the restaurants in Puertillo, Maspalomas, and Costa Ayala. "Clearly, something must be open within 10 square miles of our location!" she fussed, seeing their 10 PM closing times.

"Weelllllllll," said Dr. Bellum, her voice trailing off into a nonexistent realm.

"Well, what?"

Dr. Bellum had Google Maps opened on her phone. She gestured for Professor Maelstrom to take a look.

Coach Brunt and Countess Cleo stared in silence, watching the man crane his neck over and look at the restaurant pinpointed by Dr. Bellum's gloved finger.

As his spine straightened, Professor Maelstrom looked disgustedly at her.

"Domino's Pizza," he announced, sickened.

"BOOYAH! Nice find, Doc!" Coach Brunt treated Dr. Bellum to a surprise high-five, knocking the scientist off her chair and against the wall.

Countess Cleo clutched her heart. "Ugh! That's not pizza - it's wet cardboard! What do you think I am, a public school student? My body would reject that hogslop almost immediately. I'd rather dine on the students' cafeteria sandwiches - at least I know they're not just delivering me a fried dish rag!"

Gunnar's eyeroll came with a side of sigh. "Get a grip, Countess. I'm sure you've had a 'fast casual' meal at least once in your glamorous career."

"How dare you imply I've eaten processed foods."

"Was it not YOU who devoured my entire jar of Nutella last Sunday while binging a whole season of Great British Bake Off?"

Countess Cleo looked attacked. "It's Ferrero without the Rocher!" she squeaked, slapping his face with a menu.

"Wench!" He grabbed the menu from her.

"STOP FIGHTING! Now, what toppings do y'all want?!"

There were four simultaneous answers: anchovies, olives, Hawaiian, and Grandma.

Meanwhile, Ivy and Zack were enjoying a bacon pepperoni pizza, which is a popular topping on Boston pizzas according to a poll the author of this story found on Delish.com. It reminded them of their greasy middle school days.

As Zack lifted his greasy, stringy slice, they made brief eye contact across the table.

"Dope shirt, my guy," said Ivy.

"Thanks, sis. Red is my color." Zack shook his head, incredulous. "Finally. For once in my life, you say something nice to me. A kind comment, without a snide meaning. Why am I so surprised? Oh, I know. Because this is the first time you have EVER said anything nice to me, without some type of ulterior motive."

"No, dummy, I meant you look like the Domino's uniform guys."

"SEE! I KNEW IT," he screamed, dropping his pizza slice facedown on the table. For the second time that evening, he fell into a fit of tears, sobbing, and self-deprecation. That's when Ivy stopped paying attention and overheard some important Spanish words from the Domino's kitchenette (which will NOT be translated, for your reading pleasure, but you are free to input it into the translator of your choice [unless you speak Spanish, in which case: enjoy]).

"Una mujer grande quiere que le entreguemos esta pizza a 123 Evil Island, piso #2B. Eso requiere andar en bicicleta sobre un puente. ¿Quién puede manejar esta entrega?"

"Woah!" whispered Ivy. "Zack, stop crying! Raise your hand! Say, 'yo puedo'!"

Zack jumped out of his seat, tears drying instantly, throwing both hands in the air. "YO PUEDO!" he screamed.

The doorbell rang.

Dr. Bellum looked around the table at Countess Cleo and Professor Maelstrom, who both looked grim and forlorn, A.K.A. extra-evil. They were hungry beyond their own comprehension and were ready to skin a mule with their bare hands if the opportunity arose.

"We have a doorbell?" asked Dr. Bellum.

Coach Brunt stomped, huffed, and barked as she raced down the hall to answer the door.

"Olives on pizza better be good," sneered Maelstrom to Dr. Bellum.

"They are excellent."

"Are they, really?"

"I'm about to eat Domino's Pizza," Countess Cleo said in a shaky, broken voice, as if confessing a sin to the Spanish Inquisition. The soul was drained entirely from her eyes.

Dr. Bellum looked past her at Maelstrom and asked him, "If Shadowsan wasn't a traitorous fool...do you think he, too, would enjoy olives on pizza?"

"He would have ensured we order the sushi at 10 PM as planned," said Professor, throwing only the bitterest of shades.

"I meant, psychologically. What topping would he choose?"

"Oh." Maelstrom deeply pondered this, stroking his triangular chin. "To answer your question, we must start with what we already know. Shadowsan is a quiet, complex, self-absorbed man, idealizing perfection and stealth. Due to his rigidity in day-to-day life, it is likely that he gluttonizes hypocritically.

"To rephrase: he is ashamed to admit he craves loudness and stupidity and tackiness from the world, in contrast to his usual behavior and desires. This hypocrisy would extend to indulgences such as music, sex, food, fiction, artworks, and so on.

"For example, he would prefer a bold-colored Matisse to a subtle Rembrandt; Coke to Pepsi; the 1920s to the 1930s; so on and so forth. Therefore, he would stray away from subtle toppings such as white or plain, and prefer harsher, commoner flavors that hit the palate more squarely and present universal appeal. As such, I diagnose Shadow-san with enjoying pepperoni on pizza."

"Yeah, but do you think he would like olives?"

As Coach Brunt opened the door, she realized the humidity had lead to a small monsoon. Coach Brunt was surprised to see a light-skinned, grinning young man with a bike and a very lightweight pizza box. Rain poured down all over his clothes and lack of umbrella, hat, or poncho.

"Bonjour, lady," he said, water pouring off his face.

"Yeah, whatever."

"Here is your pizza." He extended the damp box towards her, smiling oddly.

How often does the pizza guy actually say, 'Here is your pizza' while slowly extending the box towards you? Coach Brunt found this very suspicious. However, Coach Brunt's stomach did not. She was so hangry she grabbed the rain-soaked box, slapped $35 in his hand, kicked him off the porch, and slammed the door in his face.

"PIZZA!" she shouted like a giddy girls' camp counselor, and she smacked the wet box onto the Faculty table. Countess Cleo attacked the box first, mad with hunger - Maelstrom and Bellum followed. But, to their absolute horror...something was dreadfully wrong with the pizza. There was no cheese. No bread. No olives. Not even sauce. No...it was worse. It wasn't a pizza at all. Countess Cleo screeched: "It's a DISH RAG!"

When Carmen saw her crew waiting for her at the airport's exit to the tarmac, she looked perturbed to see Ivy and Zack beaming in delight - Ivy was clean as a whistle and holding all of the luggage, while her brother was happily covered head to toe in rain and twists of mud.

"What happened to you?" asked Carmen.

"Nothin'! Just cheesin'. Just havin' a slice o' life."

Carmen squinted at him. "Tell me what happened."

"I can't tell you the whole story," said Zack. "I can only tell you bits and pizzas."

"Zack stop," pleaded Ivy, sweating.

"Revenge is a DISH (rag) best served Cold!" Zack laughed and winked at you, the reader.

Confused and overwhelmed by Zack's nonsense, Carmen and Ivy grabbed Zack and ascended onto the private jet and flew far away from the Canary Islands - far away from the Domino's in Las Palmas that started it all.