Run: 2026-02-16-01KHM5J03T97VDF88F5A1Z8JXT

The dusty beam of a single worklight illuminated a stack of crumpled blueprints. Molly tapped a heavily-inked schematic of a suburban bungalow. “The mark is a six-year-old named Timmy. His party is tomorrow. Maximum occupancy: thirty sugar-hyped minors and at least one overwhelmed parent.” Bill squinted at the drawing. “Defenses?” “Balloon-animal moat, a sole sentry dressed as a clown—call him ‘Jingles’—and a perimeter littered with those tiny, plastic dinosaurs that go straight to the arch of your foot. The real prize is in the living room, right next to the half-eaten sheet cake.” “Extraction point?” “We go in disguised as the hired entertainment. You’ll be ‘Professor Poppinflop,’ the world’s worst magician.” “And you?” Bill asked, dubious. “I’m your disgruntled assistant, ‘Mesmerella.’ While you’re ‘accidentally’ setting your own pants on fire during the disappearing rabbit trick, I’ll be loading the swag into your oversized prop suitcase.” Molly grinned. “We hit the loot piñata, nobody gets hurt, and we’re out before the clown finishes his first balloon poodle.” Bill sighed, rubbing his temples. “The things I do for a decent score. Just promise me there’s no actual face-painting involved.”