Run: 2026-02-24-01KJ8W7EEV3FP7Z6AVYGEFCK8D

Molly spread the crayon-drawn map across the hood of the van and smoothed out the wrinkles with the focused intensity of a general preparing for war. The map had been confiscated from a seven-year-old named Derek, and it smelled faintly of fruit snacks. "Okay," she said, clicking her penlight on. "The party starts at two. We go in at two-fifteen." Bill squinted at the map. "Is that a drawing of a unicorn?" "That's the bouncy castle. Focus." "Right, right." He pulled his black beanie down further over his ears even though it was sixty-eight degrees outside. "What's our entry point?" "Side gate. Apparently Derek leaves it unlocked because he's been sneaking his hamster in and out." "We're relying on the security habits of a child and his hamster." "We are professionals, Bill. We adapt to the intelligence available." Bill stared at the map for a long moment. A small part of him, the part that still had a soul, whispered something uncomfortable. He told that part to be quiet. "How many kids are we looking at?" he asked. "Birthday boy's turning eight, so probably twelve to fifteen guests. Parents will be distracted by cake and the ongoing disaster that is group parenting." "And the presents?" "Piled on the gift table near the back fence." Molly tapped the map triumphantly. "Which Derek has helpfully labeled with a drawing of what I believe is either a treasure chest or a really sad house." Bill pulled a clipboard from the back seat and clicked his pen. "Okay. I'll back the van up to the fence." "Quietly." "Obviously quietly. I'll back it up quietly to the fence, we grab everything in under four minutes, and we're gone before anyone notices." "The clown is our biggest threat," Molly said gravely. "The clown." Bill stopped writing. "He's positioned near the gate according to Derek's intelligence report and he's described as, quote, very fast." "A fast clown." Bill set the clipboard down on the van hood and rubbed his temples. "Molly, this is the third time this month we've been outsmarted by someone's birthday party logistics." "We were not outsmarted last time. We made a strategic retreat." "We hid in a ball pit for forty minutes." Molly rolled up the map with crisp, dignified authority and tucked it under her arm. The afternoon sun caught the rhinestone on her all-black tactical jacket, which somewhat undermined the intimidating effect. She had bought it on clearance and refused to acknowledge this. "The ball pit was a calculated position," she said firmly. "There was a toddler in there with us." "He was very discreet." She opened the van door and climbed in. "Now get in. We've got thirty minutes to review the extraction route and eat our sandwiches." Bill looked up at the pale blue sky and wondered, genuinely and not for the first time, where exactly his life had taken its crucial wrong turn. He got in the van.