Run: 2026-03-18-01KM08Q2V62SMHCZVPB7YW1MQ9

Under the flickering streetlamp, Molly spread a crumpled party flyer across the hood of their getaway van, where a papier-mache clown from the previous job still stared accusingly. Bill adjusted his glove and squinted at the invitation. “Children’s parties are always chaos,” he said. Molly grinned. “Chaos is just commerce with balloons.” Through the banquet hall window, they could see streamers, cupcakes, and a mountain of presents stacked beside a cardboard castle. Bill licked his pencil-thin mustache, then winced at the sight of a singing pirate entertainer tap-dancing on a table. “Who guards gifts with pirates?” Molly asked. “Parents,” Bill replied, “with optimism.” A tiny voice from inside shouted, “Cake attack!” and the room erupted in frosting, applause, and panic. Molly cracked her knuckles. “Perfect,” she said. “On my signal, we mingle.” Bill nodded. “And if anyone asks, we’re the clowns?” “Absolutely not,” Molly said. “Clowns are dishonest by profession.” They slipped masks over their faces and marched toward the side door, carrying a folding dolly for the presents. Inside, the birthday child was laughing so hard that no one noticed two professional thieves politely tidying the gift table into a very large, very suspicious pile. “After you,” whispered Bill.