Run: 2026-02-24-01KJ8V56QAJGVM1CVQNX6AGPP9

Molly spread the hand-drawn map across the hood of their rusted van, smoothing out the crayon-marked corners with practiced efficiency. The target was a children's birthday party on Elmwood Street, and according to their very reliable intelligence, the gift table was absolutely heaving with presents. Bill adjusted his black turtleneck and squinted at the diagram, which had previously served as a coloring page for a cartoon butterfly. "We go in through the bouncy castle," Molly whispered, tapping the entrance with a stubby pencil. "Distract the clown, grab the loot." Bill nodded gravely, as though absorbing the tactical wisdom of a decorated military general rather than his partner's elaborate plan to infiltrate a six-year-old's birthday party. He had several concerns, naturally. Children were notoriously unpredictable witnesses. The clown was a significant unknown variable. And the party favors he had accidentally consumed during their earlier reconnaissance had given him a deeply troubling stomachache. "What if the birthday kid just cries?" he asked. Molly rolled up the map with quiet authority. The plan was elegant in its absurd simplicity. They would pose as flustered late-arriving relatives, slip past the entertainment, and vanish into the sunny afternoon carrying a wagon full of gift-wrapped boxes.