Run: 2026-02-24-01KJ8V2TP286ZHS6CK885DSD34

The rusted Capri idled behind the community hall. Inside, Molly adjusted her binoculars. “The target’s a six-year-old named Timmy. Sugar-high, distracted by a clown. Perfect.” Bill sighed, rubbing his temples. “A clown. Our intel says he makes balloon poodles. That’s a wild card.” “The loot is in the blue room, next to the cake. Wrapped. Various sizes. We grab the bags, we’re in and out.” “Security?” “Two parents, possibly armed with juice boxes. Grandma is a lookout, but she naps at three. The real threat is a corgi named Mr. Wiggles. He’s got a squeaky toy; it’ll cover our entry.” “A dog. Great. And the piñata? Secondary target?” “Too conspicuous. Stick to the plan. We go in as caterers. I’ve got the fake moustache.” “You look ridiculous.” “It’s a quality moustache, Bill. Now, the extraction. Through the kitchen, out the fire exit. Van’s around back.” “What’s our cut?” “Fifty-fifty. But I call dibs on the Lego Death Star.” “Fine. I want the remote-control car.” “Deal. Clown goes down at three-fifteen. Move on my signal.”