"A true pizza must have the sauce on the bottom. Anything else is... is sacrilege."
Phobos drew himself up and glowered at his opposite number. "You only say that because you have never experienced the majesty of my cheeseburger pizza."
"Majesty?" Sergio Turbo threw back his arm, letting his black cape flutter in the wind. "Travesty is more like it. Your American ways-"
Phobos' shadow seemed to grow as his frown deepened. He folded his arms across his chest, drawing his leather coat in tight. "Be warned, Italian: the wrath of Chicago can be terrible to behold."
"You haven't even tried a proper pizza!" Sergio Turbo yelled, seeming now almost to be surrounded with the glowing aura of righteousness. "If you'd had but a taste-"
"A taste? Hah!" The darkness that surrounded Phobos was deep and layered, much like the pizza he espoused, but it could gain no ground against the rich light of Sergio Turbo. Phobos stalked forward, and the interface between the two forces became a slice of pure radiance. "I would sooner," Phobos ground out, leaning in close, "make out with you, than partake of that empty husk you call pizza."
"Fine, then!" Sergio Turbo cried, and threw himself onto Phobos, his streaming cape cutting a wedge through the air. The pair went down together, a base of darkness with a topping of light, and it was quite some time before the argument resumed.