Location: Melbourne Shipyard – Time: 11:59 p.m.
Bruce Family Van – En Route
Ryan floored the gas on the ONYX CORE minivan, windshield still splattered with tomato chunks and a rogue ravioli stuck to the wiper blade.
"We've got sixty seconds 'til midnight!" he shouted, adjusting the rearview mirror with marinara-streaked fingers.
Faith was in the backseat, using a breadstick like a microphone. "This is DJ Meat Sauce reporting live from Operation: Midnight Marinara!"
Holly held up the garlic napkin. "Should I sniff it again for clues?"
Emily reached back and confiscated it. "No more sauce-based detective work. We're going in clean. Sort of."
Ryan hit a switch on the dashboard.
CLANK.
The van's interior transformed. Booster seats flipped into high-tech spy chairs. A hidden weapons rack opened to reveal smoke-sausage grenades, parmesan sprayers, and a crossbow shaped like a pasta spoon.
"Family," Ryan said. "Gear up. It's time for carb warfare."
Location: Shipyard Dock 13 – Time: 12:02 a.m.
The Bruce family crouched behind a shipping crate labeled "Frozen Tiramisu – Handle With Passion."
In the distance, goons in chef coats patrolled with lasagna launchers. A single yacht floated docked, lights low, steam curling from its deck pizza oven.
Ryan whispered, "There's the target."
Emily scanned with her wrist communicator. "Encrypted signals coming from below deck. Probably the smuggled tech. Or a secret pasta lab."
Faith peeked out. "Why is that guy stirring a pot with a rifle?"
Ryan narrowed his eyes. "Because that's not stew. That's a napalm risotto."
Meanwhile: Bella Castini's Perspective – Inside the Yacht
Bella stood in her private war kitchen, arms folded as her top sous-chefs loaded crates into hidden compartments.
"Father always said: 'If you want to rule the black market, first control the spice rack,'" she muttered.
Her phone buzzed.
"Operation Gnocchi Drop is ready."
—Enzo the Waiter, now in full tactical gear.
She smiled. "Deploy the flying tortellini."
A ceiling hatch opened.
From it descended six mechanical drones shaped like tortellini. Each hummed ominously, armed with ricotta-core mini-missiles.
Bella turned to a monitor displaying the Bruce family sneaking across the docks.
"Let's see how the Family Man handles my family recipe."
Back Outside – Time: 12:14 a.m.
Holly froze. "Do you hear buzzing?"
Faith looked up. "Are those... ravioli with wings?"
Ryan squinted. "Drones. Incoming!"
One of the drones swooped down, firing a mozzarella net. Emily sliced through it mid-air with her heated carving fork.
Ryan launched a sausage grenade. It burst, coating the drones in sizzling grease. They spiraled out of control and crashed into a fish freezer.
"Ha!" Holly shouted. "That's what I call cheddar-chaos aerial superiority!"
Ryan pointed toward the yacht. "Go! We hit the ship, get the intel, and—"
BOOM.
A hatch burst open—Bella stood there in a floor-length red trench coat made of stitched-together oven mitts.
"You've crashed my kitchen. Now you'll taste the heat."
She pulled out a hot sauce vial the size of a grenade.
Ryan paled. "That's Castini's Hellfire—rated illegal in three countries and banned from cooking shows!"
Emily smirked. "Time to turn down the heat."
Location: Below Deck
As chaos erupted on deck, Ryan and Emily fought off goons with tactical ladles and anchovy darts. Holly hacked a control panel with her toy tablet, rerouting security footage to display reruns of Spy Baby and the Action Nanny.
Faith used her bubble wand to fog the surveillance cameras with peppermint vapor.
Ryan reached a sealed container.
Inside: a glowing crate of experimental tech—a hybrid between AI and pasta preservation systems. ONYX CORE's stolen prototype.
Ryan locked eyes with Emily. "We got what we came for."
From above: BEEEEEP.
Bella activated the oven-mitt self-destruct timer.
Escape – Time: 12:26 a.m.
The Bruce family fled with the crate just as the yacht exploded behind them in a burst of marinara and slow-motion Parmesan flakes.
Ryan dove onto the dock, rolling twice, ricotta spraying from a burst side pocket.
Emily landed beside him, clutching the intel. "This isn't over."
Ryan exhaled. "No. But I'm pretty sure we're winning the cookbook war."
Faith crawled out of a crate. "I saved one tortellini drone! I'm naming it 'Tony.'"
Holly nodded solemnly. "Tony will be our flying sidekick now."
Ryan stood, dripping sauce and glory. "Let's get home. I think I still have meatball in my socks."
- Back at Bella's Underground Lair
Bella limped in, soot on her cheek.
Enzo offered a handkerchief. "Should I cancel the spaghetti summit?"
Bella watched security footage of the family escaping. "No. Let them think they've won."
She stepped into the shadows.
"Because next time... I'm serving revenge al dente."
[TO BE CONTINUED]