Run: 2026-03-18-01KM0902VFDNC9VF59WR08DS6K

The diner’s neon sign buzzed like a dying wasp as Molly spread out a crumpled blueprint across their sticky table. Bill slurped his milkshake noisily, still half-asleep at two in the afternoon. "You sure this is the right place?" Bill asked, licking whipped cream off his thumb with the enthusiasm of a man who had never considered consequences. Molly adjusted her glasses, squinting at the blueprint. "Positive. Local moms’ Facebook group posted about the party an hour ago. ‘Little Timmy’s 5th Birthday Bash,’ complete with a treasure hunt and a clown named Bumbles." Bill grinned, nearly knocking over his shake. "Kids and loot—best day ever." Molly’s eye twitched. "What if there are glitter cannons?" "Distraction’s key," Bill said, tossing a fry into his mouth. "You start a food fight. I grab the presents and meet you at the getaway car. Vroom vroom." She frowned. "And if someone cries? Because kids cry. It’s what they do." Bill adopted a solemn tone, adjusting an imaginary tie. "Then we’re professionals who care about the children’s emotional well-being. We offer juice boxes and a consoling pat on the back before vanishing into the night." Molly groaned, rubbing her temples. "We’re going to jail." Bill pulled two ski masks from his jacket—one with a poorly stitched smiley face. "Ready?" "Not even a little," she muttered, eyeing the door like it was rigged with landmines.