Courtney opened Chez Chic's door and was immediately greeted by a tall eighth grader wearing a grey, single-breasted Armani suit. He stood behind the reception station and happily said, "Bonjour, madame."

Courtney smiled as she realized that three years of French lessons were about to pay off. "Bonjour, monsieur. Je voudrais une table pour une personne, s'il vous plait."

The maître d' smiled wider. "Bien sur, madame. Mais, je parle seulement un peu français. Est-ce que vous parlez anglais? Et comment vous vous appelez?"

Courtney answered in a heavy Parisian accent. "The name is Anniesse, and I can speak English. You speak French quite well, though."

"I am grateful for your kind words and that we have a table ready for you. What brings you to Chez Chic?"

"My family just moved here from Saint-Germain-des-Prés. I heard of your grand opening and simply had to attend."

"Well then right this way, ma'am. Chez Chic shall attend to your every desire."

The maitre d' immediately handed her a wine glass full of sparkling Martinelli's. Courtney's eyes widened with glee as sipped her drink and followed the boy into the dining room.

The cardboard delivery truck exited the school and began traveling around the perimeter of the building. Nick stared off into space and regretted his life choices as Antoni explained their plan.

"Chez Chic is inside what used to be an enormous cooking laboratory. The place is split up into a reception area, dining room, bathroom, kitchen, office, and freezer. There's an emergency exit between the freezer and office that we'll load the cargo through." The veins in Antoni's arms doubled in size as he clenched his fists. "Those bourgeoisie jerks don't want their precious customers seeing the help."

Antonio and the muscular boys beside him spit on the floor, which landed on Nick's shoes. Nick reluctantly followed suit.

Antonio motioned at the comrades flanking him. "Frankie and Tony here will load in the cargo normally. I'll keep watch outside and ensure the hall monitors don't give us any trouble. Nico, you're in charge of the sabotage."

"Ay, sure," Nick dejectedly muttered.

Antonio nodded and went on, "You've got two jobs. First, get close to the food they're cooking and throw some of this in."

Antonio passed Nick a small bottle of hot sauce covered in warning labels. Nick scanned the writing and asked, "Ay, this is ghost pepper sauce. Hotter than my nonna's spaghetti aglio e olio. Where'd you get it?"

Antonio explained. "Let's just say we have some friends in high places who want this revolution to succeed. After you add in the food, get to the bathroom and plant these," Antonio kicked the box of explosives towards him. "These are military-grade stink bombs. Kids will get sick from the food, then disgusted by the bathrooms. They'll be calling for the heads of every jerk working in Chez Chic. That's when we secure the means of production."

Nick reluctantly opened the box. A dozen small black balls with a tiny activation button lay in what resembled an open egg carton. "Ay, like the leftmost stove?"

"Yes!" Antonio pointed at Nick and beamed. "That's the best one. You get it, Nico! Once you secure that stove, Tony starts the final part of our plan."

Tony nodded, pulled a chef's hat from behind his back, and silently placed it atop his head.

Antonio said, "Tony's spent the past year getting an online cooking degree."

Nick bit his tongue against the myriad of questions bouncing around his skull. He focused instead on loading the stink bombs into his jumpsuit's pockets.

"He'll whip up the best plate of warm Camembert with wild mushroom fricassee anyone has ever seen. Everyone will beg us to run the restaurant and bing bang boom, communism."

Three sharp knocks sounded on the front of the cargo bay. Antonio tightened his flat cap and said, "Alright boys, we're here. Nico, take this," he gave Nick a clipboard and pen. "It's our delivery invoice. Just say you need a bunch of signatures. That'll give you access to the whole restaurant."

Nick gulped as Tony hid his chef's hat and opened the cargo door. Bright sunlight beamed down as Nico and his crew filed outside.

"Go do your job, Nico," Antonio pulled open the emergency exit, which was propped open in preparation for their arrival. "We'll handle the delivery."

Nick gulped and closed his eyes while walking towards the door. You promised Cindy you'd do this. Keep your word. As he prepared to open his eyes, the image of Courtney seated alone at a table flashed in his mind. And make sure this revolution doesn't hurt her.

Nick opened his eyes and walked into Chez Chic's prep area. To his right was an enormous walk-in freezer and to his left a small administration office. I'll have to get in there and check for evidence, he told himself while walking into the kitchen.

The scene was more bustling than he expected. Beside the freezer rested a trio of stoves, each with a laser-focused chef cooking atop it. An enormous prep table took up the middle of the room where a quartet of elementary schoolers assembled salads, chopped vegetables, and garnished dishes. A room divider formed the kitchen's left wall, though a large pass-through had been carved out. Underneath the pass through was a dozen hanging dockets and a table with a heat lamp sporting a few ready meals.

Standing at the left-most stove was the chef de cuisine. HIs spiky red-brown hair was hidden by a chef's hat, but Nick recognized the boy as soon as he spun around.

Alex Volkov, the public face of the Black Atom's victims, grabbed a set of tongs and fluidly dropped two lamb chops on a plate. "The lamb chops are ready to go. I need a saucier to add the cognac dijon!"

"Yes chef!" A shorty fifth-grader immediately scooped up the dish and dashed it to the prep table.

Alex wiped sweat from his brow and said, "Half the tables are still waiting on the cassoulet. Please tell me it's fired up!"

"Don't worry, chef," the potager chef answered from the rightmost stove. The tall girl had a few stray locks of red hair peeking from under her chef's hat. She stirred the enormous stock pot and added a pinch of parsley. "Two minutes and it's ready."

"I'm holding you to that," Alex growled.

"Nico," A faint whisper from behind Nick barely breached his ears. Nick spun around to see Frankie pointing at the stock pot. He mimed adding in a dash of something, and Nick felt the weight of the ghost pepper sauce in his pocket.

Nick felt Frankie's gaze linger as he approached Alex. "Ay, mister chef! I need a signature here."

Alex faced Nick and glowered at the boy. "We're swamped. This better not take long."

Nick clicked his pen open, then handed it over along with the clipboard. "Ay, it's just a standard invoice. My boss'll be a monkey on my back until I get this signed."

Alex skimmed the paper, glanced at the pile of boxes being moved into the freezer and hastily scribbled his signature. "There, now scram."

"Ay, slow your roll," Nick held up both his palms. "Ya know, ma niece has got a baptism coming up. They might want to have the reception here. Mind if I taste that cassoulet and see if it's up to snuff?"

Alex huffed and turned back to his skillet. He threw in some garlic butter on it and began to swirl it around. "There's no way your family can afford this place."

Maybe Antonio did have the right idea, Nick bristled. He hid his disgust and said, "Ay, us bucktown boys go all out for a baptism. Trust me, we're good for it."

"Just let him have a taste, Alex," the potager chef said. "He's working hard and he even got the name of the stew right."

"Fine," Alex added two cuts of filet mignon to the skillet and waved Nick away. "But make it quick."

Nick hustled over to the stockpot. "Here," the pleasant chef with kind eyes handed him a tasting spoon. "Let me know if it needs more thyme."

Nick sipped the thick pork stew and nearly staggered from the abundance of flavor. "Ay, that's killa." Nick forced himself to lie and said, "But it does need a little more thyme."

"I knew it," the chef shook her head in disgust and walked over to the distant row of seasonings.

Nick immediately glanced back at the entrance, where Frankie still had his eyes on him. He pulled out the ghost pepper sauce and showed the dockworker, who nodded in approval.

Nick gulped, shifted his body to the right, and scooped up a saltshaker hidden from Frankie's view. He added in a few theatrical dashes, pocketed both shaker and bottle, and spun around. He offered Frankie a smile which the boy reciprocated.

"Ay, we'll definitely be booking this place," Nick said while walking back towards Alex. "Now I just have to get a signature from your maître d' and I'll be outta yer hair."

Alex scowled and asked, "Why would you need his signature? I've already signed everything."

"Ay, whoa!" Nick flashed both his palms. "Do you have any idea how often our union changes things around? The only thing I know about rules and regs is that they don't stay still for long. If I don't get that signature you can kiss future deliveries goodbye and I'll be a curb jockey."

"Fine," Alex growled. "Just go and make it fast. Your look does not mesh with our ambience."

"Ay, I'll be quick as a rain-soaked rat sliding down the L line."

"What?"

"Ay, see ya," Nick scurried out of the kitchen and headed through the door leading to the dining room. He quickly approached the maître d'' and said, "Ay, can you sign this?"

The teen accepted the clipboard in confusion. "What is this for?"

"Ay, it's for our delivery. The head chef said he needs you to double check this and then cosign. I thought that was crazy, but whadda I know? Make sure you read every word. I don't want no trouble between you and your boss."

"Uh, okay," the boy said while studying the document. Nick turned around, leaned against the reception desk, and pretended to casually survey the busy dining room as he looked for Courtney.

He found her in the middle of the dozen tables, slurping on an oyster. She grinned in satisfaction and leaned back in her chair while grabbing her glass of cider.

Glad she's having fun, Nick thought while rolling his eyes. I wish we'd just stuck with the date idea. His mind began to wander as he thought, Not like we'd have had enough to talk about. I don't know jack about the economy. And there's only so many nice things you can say about her outfit. I mean, it's really just that her hair is like a fancy curtain framing her face. And those new glasses are even better than the old ones. And that dress…

"There, I read it all. I didn't see the delivery, but-"

Nick's accent wavered as he waved the boy off. "Double check everything."

Nick watched Courtney viciously stab a shrimp with her oyster fork and drown it in cocktail sauce. Courtney's smart, but she had to be wrong about what to do on a date. Maybe instead of the economy we could just have talked about our families more. And what cooking class was like. And what does she do all day as a reporter?

"I really think it's all accurate."

Nick groaned and spun back on the maître d'. "Fine. Sign here, here, here in shorthand, here in hieroglyphics, and here in Wingdings."

"Sacre bleu," the boy groaned.

Nick turned back to Courtney and shook his musings aside. "Psst!" he whispered.

Courtney looked backwards at the kitchen.

"PSST," Nick whispered louder.

Courtney peeked under the table.

"PSSSSTTTT!" Nick nearly shouted.

Courtney finally looked his way and beamed while waving.

Bathroom, Nick mouthed.

Courtney mouthed, Crafts room? Do you need Carl's help again?

Nick squinted in confusion. What? Don't mouth so many words!

Courtney shook her head. I can't understand you when you mouth so many words. Say less stuff. Why do you need to go to the crafts room?

Nick pinched his nose and took a calming breath. He pretended to rub soap over himself and mouthed, Bath.

Courtney nodded and mouthed, Shower.

Nick glared at the girl as his head throbbed. Courtney simply smiled back.

Nick spun back on the maître d' and ripped the clipboard from his grasp. "That's good enough. Where's the bathroom?"

"But I didn't finish the hieroglyphics-"

"Where is the freaking bathroom?"

The maitre d' pointed a trembling finger at a hallway dead ahead of Courtney. Nick stormed in that direction, grabbed Courtney's wrist, and dragged her along. "Ay," he rolled his eyes, "I need your signature too."

"Enchanté, monsieur," Courtney giggled as Nick dragged her inside the bathroom and locked the door behind them. Once they were alone, Courtney eagerly said, "I'm just kidding. I know it's you, Nick!"

Nick dropped her wrist and said, "We have a problem."

"Yeah we do. You haven't tried their shrimp. I saved you some," Courtney opened her clutch to reveal a medley of seafood. "Have one."

"I don't want your purse shrimp."

"Yes you do!" Courtney snatched one and shoved it in Nick's mouth before he could protest further.

"Cuhrney," Nick protested through a full mouth. He quickly fell silent as he began to automatically chew the tender, buttery, garlicky delight that was melting in his mouth. He wiped drool from his lips and swallowed hard. "That's amazing."

"I know! Hang on, I've got some oysters in here."

"Courtney, stop!" He snatched the clutch and snapped it closed. "We seriously have a problem."

"What is it?"

"I accidentally started a communist revolution."

Courtney blinked twice and asked, "Again?"

"Yes!" Nick slammed a palm on his forehead and dragged it down his face. "The dock workers are trying to take over this restaurant. They wanted me to poison the cassoulet-"

"Nice pronunciation," Courtney cheered Nick on.

"But I managed to use salt instead of the hot sauce they gave me. But they also wanted me to plant these stink bombs in the bathroom," Nick explained while taking one of the explosives out of his pocket.

"Slow down. So the dock workers want to destroy the restaurant and take it over?"

"Yes," Nick answered.

"Well, that would serve as a good distraction," Courtney scrunched her brow in thought. "Can you access the Hypno-beam without the riot?"

Nick shook his head. "Alex is standing right in front of it and won't move. I don't think I can go back there and poke around more."

"Okay. Well, we definitely shouldn't poison people, so it's good you found a way around that. But we could use the stink bombs to create chaos. That won't hurt anyone. Then let the dock workers do their thing and we sneak into the kitchen during the mayhem."

"Alright," Nick said while studying the bomb in his grasp. He rotated it and said, "So I'll just-"

The device immediately began to spew yellow smoke into Nick's face. In an instant he and Courtney were gagging on the floor.

"Why are," Courtney dry heaved and crawled towards the sink, "you so bad," she pulled herself up and hung her head into the bowl, "at your job?" Courtney immediately vomited up all of her appetizers into the sink.

"Weird day," Nick struggled to say through dry heaves. He shoved himself up and asked, "Do I…erg…hold your hair?"

"No chivalry!" Courtney shouted in terror in between bouts of vomiting. "Do not vomit on me!"

Nick sprinted into a stall and spewed everything in his stomach into the bowl. Once he was done he wiped his mouth and asked, "Courtney? You good?" He limped out of the stool and watched Courtney rinse her mouth. She flashed him a thumbs up before spitting into the sink.

A trio of sharp knocks pounded on the door. "What is going on in there?"

"We're okay!" Courtney pinched her nose and spun on Nick. "We're not using these on people, right?"

"No way," Nick gagged. "This whole plan is off the rails. You take the bombs and we'll come up with a plan B."

Courtney nodded and upturned her clutch in the garbage bin. After the bounty of seafood was disposed of, Nick dropped the eleven remaining bombs inside the purse.

Courtney wobbled on her heels, swallowed bile, and opened the bathroom door. "Bonjour, monsieur," she gasped while tidying her hair.

The maitre d's jaw dropped as he glanced between Nick, Courtney, and the flecks of stray vomit. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the foul odor in the air and asked, "Zut alors, did the food make you sick?"

"No no," Courtney protested. "Everything was delicious. It's just-"

"Oh my god, there's too much salt in this dish!" a tuxedo-clad fourth grader screamed after tasting his bowl of cassoulet. He immediately collapsed to the ground and shouted, "I'm hypernatremic!"

Betty jumped up from her table and explained, "Nurse Holt told me about that. It can cause confusion."

A tenth-grade brunette wearing a red cocktail dress immediately burst out in sweat. "I don't know what's happening, so I have it too!"

Betty's eyes widened in fear. "It also causes seizures!"

"I'm going down!" the brunette cried while falling to the floor and madly shaking.

Chaos envelop the dining room as people began spitting out their food, pouring water down the fourth grader's throat, chugging their own glasses, and staring in pity at the seizing hypochondriac.

Nick watched in silence and shrugged as Courtney glowered at him. "It was three dashes of salt."

"If you had taken a cooking class," Courtney repeatedly smacked Nick in the arm with her clutch, failing to notice her zipper coming more undone with each strike, "Then you'd know a cassoulee never needs more than-"

Courtney froze as a smoke bomb dropped to the floor and rolled across the room. After it bumped into the clueless maitre d's foot, he picked it up and studied it.

"NO!" Courtney and Nick shouted as he accidentally triggered its activation, sending smoke spewing in the air.

Nick immediate grabbed Courtney's wrist and spun them both away from the worst of the vapors.

"Okay, my bad that time," Courtney whispered.

"Glad to know we both suck," Nick said while clenching her hand tight and sprinting out of the restaurant. "Let's get the heck out of here."

Once they were back in the hallway, both kids gasped for breath. Courtney said, "I'm pretty sure that was the worst undercover operation of all time."

Nick ripped off his fake mustache and flicked it in a nearby trash can. "There's more collateral damage than we wanted, but technically we're still following the original plan. The dock workers will be starting their revolution now."

Courtney considered this and said, "I guess you're right. We can ditch these clothes so we don't get recognized."

"Agreed," Nick said while starting the brief walk to Carl's workshop. "This dock worker called Tony is going to make a huge plate of warm Camembert. How long does that take?"

"Hmm," Courtney crinkled her face and stared up at the ceiling. "Does it have a wild mushroom fricassee?" When Nick nodded, Courtney said, "A half hour."

"Man, maybe I should have taken cooking," Nick said while halting outside the sewing studio's door. "I don't remember anything about how I made that key holder."

"There's always next year," Courtney assured him. She glanced at her dress and sighed. "I get giving up the clothes. But can I keep the hair?"

"I wish you could," Nick said.

"You, uh…you do?" Courtney asked.

"I mean, you know…partners want each other to be happy. That's all. But you should change it back. Or at least do something different. I'm pretty sure everyone in that restaurant will beat us up if they recognize us."

Courtney nodded and headed inside the lobby. Gjord was waiting there and offered a slim smile. "Did you succeed?"

"We're not sure yet," Nick answered. "But we need to get back in our old clothes."

"Then follow me," Gjord motioned them deeper into the workshop.

Back in his usual attire and leather trench coat, Nick waited on the Z-shaped sofa. He jumped to his feet as Courtney strode through the door. She looked as she did that morning, save that her hair was now in a pineapple afro.

"Figured I shouldn't waste access to the Barber Bot. Do you like it?"

Nick smiled at her slightly untamed curls. "Yeah, I do." As Courtney glanced at her sneakers, he said, "Let's get outside and enter through the emergency door. We'll poke around the office quick, grab the Hypno-beam, and get the heck out of dodge."

Courtney flashed a thumbs up as Nick led the way out of the sewing studio. In a flash they were power walking past the school's administration wing. A nervous bureaucrat stood up as they made a beeline for the exit door, but she sat back down when Nick flashed his golden hall pass.

A moment later they had encircled the school's perimeter and came up on the cardboard cargo truck. Nick breathed a sigh of relief when he failed to spot the driver in the front cabin.

Nick jerked his head towards the kitchen, so Courtney peered inside. A half dozen boxes from the earlier delivery still partially blocked the entryway. One was partially unpacked with bottles of sunflower oil littering the floor. Dead ahead of that obstruction stood Tony over the stove they needed to access.

After studying the scene for a few seconds, she retreated. "He's inverting the Camembert. It will be done in one minute."

As Nick began to silently count down, Courtney pointed at the cardboard vehicle. "That's weird."

"Really?" Nick asked. "The pretend truck is what's weird about today?"

"Yeah. If you're an old-timey dock worker, why are you using a modern truck?"

Nick glanced back at the freightliner and cocked his head. "Huh. You really pick up on things. Are you a genius too?"

"Too?" Courtney raised an eyebrow. "I definitely don't think you're stupid, but I wouldn't say you're a genius."

Nick narrowed his eyes. "I meant like Jimmy and Cindy."

"Oh," Courtney nervously smiled. "I'm nowhere near their level. And they have no qualms about letting me know it."

"Did they say something mean to you?" No way Cindy would do that, Nick thought, then he remembered that the brunt of fifth grade had involved her and Jimmy being at each other's throats. Well, maybe she would. But she would have apologized by now.

"They never said anything to me," Courtney answered. "But you remember what fifth grade was like. Every minute was, 'Oh, who's going to win this test or get an A on this project? Jimmy or Cindy?' Do you remember anyone ever suggesting I'd win anything?"

"I guess not," Nick admitted. "But you could have."

"You don't have to lie, Nick," Courtney whispered. "I've never beaten them and I never will. But that's okay. If everyone was a genius, it wouldn't mean anything. I can still be a damn good reporter with the above average brain I've got."

"No doubt. And for what it's worth? You're also a crazy talented H.A.L.L.P.A.S.S. agent."

Nick went to pull the door open for a look inside when Courtney said, "Sorry, by the way. I shouldn't have said you're bad at your job. Sounds like while I was eating seafood you were dealing with a lot. You did a great job…and you're a great partner."

"So are you," Nick admitted.

Courtney smiled, pushed open the door a hair's width, and peeked inside. "Oh wait, we're actually both terrible. I think Tony's been gone for a while."

"Darn it," Nick groaned while pulling the door open wider. He and Courtney snuck inside and saw that the kitchen was empty.

"Okay, the office is here," Nick led Courtney into the closet-sized room across from the freezer. The office was little more than a desktop computer with dozens of papers piled on the shelf above the monitor.

"I'll look through this stuff," Courtney offered. "You just get the Hypno-beam. Then we're done."

Nick nodded and headed into the kitchen. He ducked low to avoid being seen through the pass-through and listened as Antoni made a rousing speech to all the customers and kitchen workers assembled in the dining room.

"And so, power should not be sequestered at the top. The bourgeoisie have failed you. It is time for the proletariat to lead the way to a future where we are all equal!"

Nick ignored the rabble-rousing and finally approached the leftmost stove. As silently as he could, he opened the stove's door and pulled it a few feet forwards.

At last, Nick thought in relief as he approached the side of the appliance and leaned over it. There as promised was a hole in the wall.

Which was empty.

Uh oh.

"You," A menacing growl rumbled throughout the kitchen. Nick's back straightened and he slowly turned around to find Alex sans his chef hat. His hands were curled into fists; the veins in the bully's muscles threatened to burst.

"Uh…" Nick's eyes shifted from side to side, "Ay, I'm Brooklyn-"

"Shut up," Alex spat. "I know who you are. You're part of Ethan's club."

The door to the dining room opened and in walked a disappointed Antoni. "You let me down, Nico. I can't believe you talked me into a revolution."

"Oh come on," Nick splayed his hands. "You two made nice?"

"Yep," Alex bristled. "I didn't know the dock workers were so pissed. We'll give them an extra quarter an hour. We're all good now."

"Really?" Nick stared at Antoni in disbelief. "You did all of this for an extra quarter?"

"Quarter an hour," Antoni clarified. "Communism isn't sustainable anyway. It's inherently susceptible to being corrupted by man's innate greed."

Alex said, "So al that's left is deciding what to do with the asshole who lied to us, poisoned our guests, and destroyed this restaurant!"

Before Nick could say a word, Alex was on him. The bully sprinted across the kitchen and wrapped him in a headlock before Nick could throw a punch. Alex spun Nick around so that he faced the emergency door.

"I think shoving your head so far into a toilet that you see piping is in order," Alex growled. He craned his neck towards the door behind him and ordered, "Antoni, clear out the kitchen. We're going to have a busy afternoon."

"What about Frankie and Tony? Can they get in on this? They've never done a swirly."

"Fine, but it's show one, do one, teach one."

"So Nico gets what, nine swirlies?"

"To start with," Alex explained.

While the boys discussed Nick's upcoming torture, Nick saw Courtney peek her head out of the office and stare at him in terror. Nick desperately flicked his pupils towards the emergency door. He mouthed, You promised.

Courtney cocked her head and mouthed, What? Go get Chris? Who's Chris?

"Oh my god," Nick whispered while closing his eyes in frustration. As slowly as he could manage, he mouthed, When dan…ger com…es. You pr…om…ised.

Courtney nodded in understanding, then flashed a devilish smile before mouthing, I lied.

Courtney burst out of the office and grabbed the nearest gallon of sunflower oil. As Antoni and Alex finished talking, she dashed towards a stove and grabbed a box of matches. Just as the boys turned towards her, she ripped open the freezer.

"What the heck are you doing?" Alex asked as Courtney opened the oil and chucked the contents inside. "Antoni, grab her!"

As Antoni dashed forward, Courtney grabbed a match. "I'd stop there," she warned, "unless you want about a thousand dollars worth of meat to go up in flames."

Nick gurgled as Alex tightened his chokehold. "You wouldn't. Stink bombs are one thing. Starting a fire is another. You look like too much of a goody two shoes for that."

Courtney shrugged and said, "Yeah, I've been a rule follower up until now. But today's been kind of crazy. I've got a new hairdo, a new friend," she smiled at Nick, "and a new passion for combustion."

Courtney struck her match and dangled it over the trail of oil. "So what do you say? Do you want to talk this out? Or should I burn this whole place down?"

Nick clawed at Alex's arms as his grip tightened further. Just when he started to see stars flicker across a dark sky, Alex released his hold.

"Fine," Alex said as Nick gasped for breath. The bully shoved Nick towards his partner and said, "Now give us the matches."

"I'll put this one out," Courtney said while waving the matchstick until its flame disappeared. She quickly flicked it onto the dry floor and grabbed another match. "But another one gets lit if you take one step forward."

Alex motioned for Antoni to leave. "I'll settle this. Just make sure everyone leaves this restaurant. I don't want any guests overhearing this."

"Fine," Courtney said. "Nick, close the emergency door so they can't circle around us."

"Yes ma'am," Nick said while doing as he was told. Once the exit was sealed, he rejoined Courtney. After staring at Alex, he took a step forward and got ready to shield Courtney if needed. "Alright, Alex. Time to talk."

"Talk about what?" Alex asked. "Why are you acting like I'm the bad guy here?"

Courtney explained, "We know about the Hypno-beam and the stolen lunches. We know it was to help your restaurant succeed. Didn't you care at all about how many kids you hurt?"

As Alex cocked his head in confusion, Nick said, "Ethan made it sound like you'd changed."

"I did cha..." Alex shook his head and asked, "What are you idiots even talking about?"

Nick and Courtney shared a confused glance. "The missing lunches. We know the restaurant's been stealing them."

"Why would we steal kids' lunches?" Alex asked. "We have a freezer full of food."

"It's not to cook with." Courtney answered. "You stole them so people would be hungry and come here to eat."

"No I didn't."

"Then why did you have a Hypno-beam delivered here?"

"I have no idea what you both are talking about," Alex said. "We made this restaurant for a reason, and it wasn't to hurt people."

Courtney lowered her matchbook and said, "Okay, maybe we should start at square one and just answer each other's questions. Alex, why did you make this restaurant?"

Alex motioned at her matches. "Are you still going to set this place on fire if I don't answer?"

"Maybe."

He clenched his hands into fists but said, "After everything with the Black Atom, I started to wonder if I'd been wrong about, you know, gay kids. So I went to a few meetings of the LGBTQ club." He sighed and glanced down at the floor. "They all knew I'd bullied Ethan. But no one made me feel bad. They were really nice…way nicer than I deserved. So I kept going.

"Everyone was raving about how much they'd loved cooking class," Alex went on as Nick rolled his eyes. "They started talking about opening a restaurant and using the money they would make to help struggling LGBTQ kids. My mom's a chef and has taught me a lot, so I said I'd help. And that's it So what the heck is all this about stolen lunches and Hypno-beams?"

Nick answered, "Have you heard about the Hungbringer?"

"What kind of a stupid name is that?"

"It's not stupid, just…unique," Nick corrected him. "Anyway, he's a lunch thief that has been stealing kids' food all week. Some kids have had to go to the nurse from low blood sugar."

Courtney chimed in, "So Nick and I have been tracking him down. We figured whoever is stealing the food was doing it to drum up their business. Tom's store was a false lead, but he told us a Hypno-beam was delivered to your restaurant."

"Well that's not true," Alex bristled.

Nick pointed at the leftmost stove. "I think it is. Tom had said the Hypno-beam was dropped at a hole in the wall behind that stove. The hole's there."

Alex glanced at the wall, then slowly walked over to examine it. "How'd he know about that? I didn't even know that was there."

Nick asked, "Alex, did you really not know about the lunches or Hypno-beam?"

The bully glared at Nick. "No, I didn't."

Courtney asked, "What about the other kids who worked here? Are they all in the LGTBQ club?"

"Most of them," Alex answered. "And none of them would hurt a fly."

"What about the ones who aren't in the club?" Nick queried.

Alex thought for a long moment. "There were two. A fifth grader who seemed nice. And a seventh-grader who was pretty weird."

Courtney said, "Do either of them have anything to do with a student group that would make money off of missing lunches? Anywhere that sells food?"

"No," Alex answered. He straightened his back and said, "But the seventh-grader said she learned to cook from her mom. I asked if she was a chef, but she shook her head and said that her mom's a lunch lady here. Those are about the only words she spoke while she was here."

Nick's blood chilled as he remembered what Antonio had said when giving him the ghost pepper sauce. "That's who took the Hypno-beam," Nick said. "Antonio told me that someone powerful had given him the ghost pepper sauce and wanted his revolution to succeed."

Courtney closed her eyes and scrunched her face in thought. With a nod, she said, "First they stole kids' lunches, then they tried to shut down their biggest competitor. It's not a kid who's behind all of this mess. It's the adults."

Nicked walked up to Alex and asked, "What's the seventh-grader's name? Where are they now?"

"When I asked what her name was, all she said was 'No names.' I almost didn't hire her because of how freaky she was, but then she made an impeccable Caesar salad. She used Worcestershire sauce and everything, so I had to bring her on." He shrugged and added, "I have no idea where she is now."

Courtney faced Nick and said. "We have to get to the cafeteria and figure this out."

Nick nodded and offered Alex a curt, "Thanks for the info," before turning around and preparing to leave. He spotted the mess of oil in the freezer, then glanced through the pass-through at the destroyed dining room.

Nick turned back to Alex and asked, "You really did all this just to help the LGBTQ club?"

Alex said, "Yeah. Lot of good it ended up doing. This place is ruined."

Nick shook his head. "It doesn't have to be. We've got our hands full today, but H.A.L.L.P.A.S.S. has keys to the school. I'll come back tomorrow and clean up."

"I'll help you," Courtney promised. "Half the vomit in the bathroom is mine anyway."

"Gross," Alex mumbled.

Nick went on, "And Neutron won't have a problem chipping in. I'm sure he has some inventions that would make your job easier."

"Oh, and I'll write an article on this place! Tell everyone how good the food was and how eating here is for a good cause."

Alex shook his head in confusion. "I would have swirlied both of you for hours. You'd still do all of that for me?"

"Duh," Courtney answered.

Alex glanced around at the restaurant and finally uncurled his fists. "A month ago I would have beaten you both up even if that got this place burned down. Ethan…he taught me talking can be better than fighting. He was right." For the first time in ages, Alex smiled and said, "Your next meal's on the house."

"Yes!" Courtney shouted. "Nick, let's just catch this Hungbringer so we can come back and eat here. You really need to try the oysters."

Nick smiled and said, "Then let's get to the cafeteria and finish this."