Chapter 11 - Vacation of the Damned

The Marchetti family pulled into Disney World's parking lot under a sunny Florida sky, minivan stuffed with coolers of homemade gelato. Leo adjusted his "#1 Dad" cap, utterly relaxed for the first time in weeks."Space Mountain first," Sophie declared, bouncing. "Then Dole Whip!"Elena smiled tightly, scanning the crowds. "Perfect. Normal family day."Except nothing was normal anymore.A phalanx of paparazzi swarmed their van before Leo even killed the engine. Drones buzzed overhead. Men in black polo shirts—Secret Service?—formed a loose perimeter."Mr. Marchetti!" a reporter shrieked. "Did you curse the Trieste summit? Is NATO disbanding?"Leo grabbed the cooler. "Just vacation. Passports?"Security parted the crowd like Moses. Mickey Mouse himself waited at the gate, trembling slightly. "M-Mr. Marchetti… complimentary fast-passes. All rides."Sophie squealed. Elena muttered, "This is not subtle."Front of the Line—Space MountainThe ride operator bowed as they approached. "Reaper—uh, honored guests. Private car."Behind the safety bar, Sophie gripped Leo's hand. "Dad. The entire internet knows you're here. #ReaperAtDisney trending worldwide."Leo patted her knee. "Good. Saves parking fees."The coaster launched. Sophie screamed with joy. Leo critiqued the g-forces like a ride engineer. Elena closed her eyes, whispering, "Please no lightning bolts."They emerged laughing—to find the line frozen. Every rider knelt, hands clasped. A tattooed man in an Aladdin shirt pressed a gold chain into Leo's palm. "For protection, Don. My crew runs the tunnels."Leo frowned. "Tunnels? Sewage issue?"Lunch—Be Our Guest RestaurantThe hostess led them to a private gilded room. Chef Jean-Paul, Michelin-starred, presented a 12-course tasting menu with trembling hands. "For the Reaper. The Prophecy honors."Leo tasted the foie gras, paused. "Too much reduction. Needs acid."Jean-Paul blanched, scribbling notes. "Yes, Reaper! Your wisdom!"Sophie giggled into her bread. "Dad, you just culinary-murdered a French chef."Elena's phone buzzed—CNN alert: "Grim Reaper spotted at Disney. Global crime rates drop 87%."Pirates of the CaribbeanHalfway through the ride, the animatronics froze mid-song. Darkness fell. Backup generators whirred… then died.Passengers panicked. Sophie clutched Leo. "Dad—"Floodlights snapped on. Every pirate robot now held a tiny black olive in its mechanical hand. Mickey's voice boomed through hidden speakers: "A gift from Marchetti's Table. Bon voyage."The crowd erupted in cheers. Leo sighed. "Product placement. Tacky."Elena gripped his arm. "Leo. This isn't coincidence anymore."Midnight—Magic Kingdom CastleFireworks burst overhead as the family watched from a VIP balcony. Sophie yawned against Leo's shoulder. Perfect moment.Until the crowd below parted. A man approached—mid-40s, slick suit, perfect teeth. He carried a briefcase and bowed low."Mr. Marchetti," he said smoothly. "Emil Voss. 'The Sous Chef.' I run your American operations."Leo blinked. "My… what?"Voss smiled wider. "Post-Trieste, the families reorganized. Your kitchen model—brutal efficiency, no waste, loyalty above all. I'm your East Coast lieutenant."Sophie whispered, "Dad, he thinks he's your mafia underboss."Voss opened the briefcase: $10 million cash, deeds to 17 restaurants, burner phones labeled "Emergency Risotto.""Weekly reports," Voss continued. "Shipments secured. Rivals… handled."Leo closed the case firmly. "No. Family vacation. No shop talk."Voss bowed deeper. "As you command, Reaper. But the Disney princesses… they've been briefed. Castle is yours."He vanished into the crowd. Cinderella herself approached seconds later, curtseying. "Your Highness?"Sophie burst out laughing. Elena rubbed her temples. Leo bought churros.Back at the Hotel—2 AMSophie scrolled TikTok, gasping. "Dad! Someone made a 'Reaper Vacation Prophecy'—every park you visit, crime drops 90%! They're calling Disney 'ReaperLand'!"Leo hung his apron in the bathroom. "Ridiculous. Good lighting here. Relaxing."Elena waited until Sophie slept, then faced him in the dark hotel room. "Leo. Emil Voss. Rival chefs rewiring animatronics. Global crime lords treating you like God. The lightning bolt in Trieste. Explain."Leo sat heavily. Silence stretched. Finally: "I don't know."She waited."Truly," he said softly. "People die. Patterns form. I cook. But lately… things happen around me. Never by my hand."Elena touched the black ledger she'd found—the one with names, dates, complaints. "This says otherwise."Leo's eyes sharpened. "Hotel stationery. Never used."Thunder rumbled—not weather. Distant. Mechanical.Elena looked out the window. Military helicopters circled the horizon, searchlights sweeping Orlando's glow. Not American markings.Sophie stirred in the next room. "Mom? What's that noise?"Elena closed the curtains. "Just fireworks, baby."But as Leo lay awake staring at the ceiling, he felt it for the first time—not annoyance, not confusion.A shadow trailing him. Growing.Outside, Emil Voss knelt in the parking lot beside 30 suited men, watching the hotel windows. "The Reaper vacations. We guard the kingdom."Disney World slept under new management.