Run: 2026-02-24-01KJ8W4TEH4XFPYQKEGV8HWM1Z

Molly spread the blueprint across the hood of their dented minivan, anchoring one corner with a juice box she had swiped from a gas station. The document showed the full layout of 47 Maple Drive, including the backyard where, according to three days of surveillance, little Timmy Henderson would celebrate his seventh birthday with thirty sugar-crazed children, a bouncy castle, and a present table groaning under the weight of wrapped gifts. Bill squinted at the blueprint, then at Molly, then back at the blueprint. He tugged at his black turtleneck, which was already making him sweat in the August heat. "We breach during the piñata, when the kids go feral," Molly said, tapping the diagram. Bill nodded slowly. He had seen the piñata during reconnaissance. It was shaped like a dinosaur and stuffed with enough candy to ensure every child would be temporarily blinded by greed. The perfect window. "What about the clown?" Bill whispered. Molly's jaw tightened. She hadn't accounted for the clown. Clowns were wildcards, unpredictable agents of chaos with oversized pockets and suspicious alertness. She pulled a second juice box from her coat and took a long, contemplative sip. "We take the clown out first," she said.