Run: 2026-02-18-01KHQ955Q945QNE48DPDNRTA7R

The van smelled like cigarettes and ambition, neither of which were particularly useful at nine in the morning outside a suburban house decorated with pink balloons. Molly pressed her binoculars against her face and watched a parade of seven-year-olds waddle up the driveway clutching wrapped boxes almost as big as themselves. "The target is well guarded," she said. "Those are children, Molly." "Children with gifts, Bill. Focus." Bill adjusted his party hat, which he had insisted on wearing for authenticity despite the fact that they were currently sitting in a surveillance van fifty feet from the house. He studied the floor plan Molly had sketched on a paper bag from a fast food restaurant. "Walk me through the entry point again," he said. "We go in through the side gate. There's a bouncy castle in the back garden providing excellent cover and also, frankly, an opportunity I personally intend to take advantage of." "We are not going on the bouncy castle." "We are absolutely going on the bouncy castle, Bill. That's not negotiable." He pinched the bridge of his nose. Twelve years of heists, six of which had been with Molly, and still every single job found a way to go sideways before it even started. He looked back at the house. A clown was now visible through the front window, juggling something that appeared to be on fire. "Why is there a clown?" "Birthday parties have clowns sometimes, Bill, keep up." "That changes the whole operation. Clowns are unpredictable. You can't account for a clown." "You can't account for a clown," Molly said, pointing a finger at him. "I have a whole section in my notes specifically about clown mitigation." He stared at her. "Who plans for clown mitigation?" "Professionals." She passed him a sheet of paper that did, genuinely, have the words CLOWN CONTINGENCY written at the top in red marker and underlined twice. He read it in silence for a moment. It said to offer the clown a sandwich. "We don't have a sandwich," he said. "We have half a granola bar." "A clown is not going to accept half a granola bar as a bribe, Molly." "Then we improvise." She clicked the cap onto her marker pen with the finality of someone closing a boardroom presentation. "The presents get stacked by the back door according to my intel, which came from a very reliable source." "The source was a child at the bus stop." "A very observant child. Eight years old and already excellent situational awareness. I was impressed." Bill looked out at the balloons swaying gently in the morning breeze, at the cheerful hand-painted banner reading HAPPY BIRTHDAY JESSICA, at the general atmosphere of innocent joy they were about to professionally disrupt. "For the record," he said, "I want it noted that I had serious reservations." "Noted." Molly opened the van door. "Now put your party hat on straight. We look suspicious."