Location: Gold Coast, Australia
Time: 11:32 a.m. (local time), three days after Larsen's defeat
It was supposed to be a break.
A normal vacation.
No gadgets. No guns. No underground lairs or mercenaries disguised as news anchors.
Just sand, sea, and sunscreen so thick it could qualify as body armor.
"Ryan, tilt your head," Emily called out from behind her camera. "No, the other head."
Ryan blinked under a floppy straw hat. "I only have one, Em."
"Then act like it has a jawline. I'm filming a travel vlog. My viewers expect beachy aesthetic, not 'dad on a barbecue brochure.'"
Faith, already drenched in mango juice, was chasing a seagull with a plastic boomerang. Holly was attempting to build the Sydney Opera House out of wet sand and seashells. Ryan sat in a beach chair that was definitely too small for him, clutching a juice box labeled Koala Kola – Now With More Real Leaves!
"I fought a rogue agent in a newsroom last week," he muttered. "Now I'm losing a standoff with a paper straw."
Emily zoomed in on his suffering. "This is great B-roll."
Later That Day – Koala Sanctuary, 2:08 p.m.
The Bruce family visited a wildlife center, where Ryan was nearly mauled by a sleepy-looking wombat ("It sensed your trauma," the zookeeper said). Faith named a kangaroo "Bouncer" and tried to ride it. Holly filmed the whole thing on Emily's backup phone and added fart sound effects in post.
It was peaceful. Suspiciously peaceful.
That is, until Ryan opened a tourist brochure titled "Top 10 Aussie Eats You Can't Miss!" and found a microdot embedded in the lamination. It shimmered in ONYX CORE red.
He flipped the brochure closed so fast he got a paper cut on his eyebrow.
Emily noticed.
"You okay?"
"Yeah," Ryan said. "Just got bitten by an aggressive… pamphlet."
"Was it venomous?" she deadpanned.
"It had koalas. I wouldn't risk it."
That Night – Hotel Room, 9:43 p.m.
While the girls snored in their double beds (Holly clutched a stuffed crocodile, Faith was drooling on the remote), Ryan sat on the balcony with his ONYX CORE comms wristband propped open beside a mug of cold coffee.
The message decoded itself in crimson letters:
OPERATION: RED SAUCE INITIATED.
AGENT VELTRIX – REPORT TO DROP SITE: PASTA LA VISTA, MELBOURNE.
OBJECTIVE: INFILTRATE MAFIA-OWNED RESTAURANT.
TARGET: DON ALBERTO CASTINI.
WARNING: LASAGNA MAY BE BUGGED. LITERALLY.
Ryan groaned. "Not again with the food-based espionage."
Emily slid the balcony door open, yawning. "What now?"
He handed her the brochure.
She read it. Paused.
"…Tell me we don't have to go undercover as pasta critics."
"Worse," Ryan said. "Family food bloggers."
Emily sighed. "Fine. But I'm naming the vlog Forks of Justice."
They clinked mugs.
And somewhere in Melbourne… a chef with too many secrets added just one more to his sauce.
[TO BE CONTINUED…]