Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ06F6YA4ASVG7Z998ZAFFP6

Molly adjusted her night vision goggles and frowned at the pastel fortress across the street. The bounce house cast sinister shadows. She unfolded a crumpled flyer for "Timmy's FIFTH Birthday Bash" and stabbed a finger at the cartoon dinosaur. "This is the target. Presents are by the cake table." Bill squinted through binoculars that were definitely not necessary. "You sure? The security looks tight. I count four adults and a guy in a Big Bird costume." "That's not security, that's entertainment." Molly pulled a laminated map from her jacket, each room marked with stolen glitter pen. "Why glitter?" "Because I stole the pen and it was free. Entry is through the side gate. We pose as parents bringing a gift." Bill lowered the binoculars. His face had gone pale. Molly rolled her shoulders beneath her black turtleneck. "What gift?" "We bring a decoy box. Inside, nothing but old newspapers." Molly pulled a wrapped package from her duffel bag. The paper featured weeping clowns. "That's nightmare fuel." "It's all they had at the gas station." Molly checked her watch. The second hand taunted her. Bill scratched his chin, considering the moral weight of the evening. "How do I know which ones are valuable?" "Phase two: I distract with balloon animals while you grab the rectangular ones." "If it has a train or superhero, grab it." Bill patted his empty hands against his knees. Molly demonstrated a lifting motion with her forearms. "Stuff the bag, then exfil through the kitchen during Happy Birthday." Bill shifted. His knees popped like gunfire. "What if they catch us?" "We're grown adults stealing from toddlers. If caught, claim we're with the party rental company. Nobody questions bureaucracy." "And if they ask why we're crying?" "That's just your natural response to being a terrible person." Molly fixed him with a stare sharp enough to julienne onions. "Put this on." Bill held it up. The wool smelled like feet. "Won't this scare the kids?" "We're thieves, Bill, not guests. Besides, the mask adds mystique. No sudden movements, no piñata candy, and absolutely no face-painting." Bill frowned, his lower lip trembling slightly. The van smelled like stale fries. "The clown offered me a butterfly last time." "That's how they get you. Stay low and don't make eye contact with the magician. He knows things." Molly pulled on her mask and checked the mirror. She looked like a bank robber who had lost a bet. "I still think we should've just robbed a bank." "Banks have alarms. Birthday parties have parents hopped up on Pinot Grigio and distracted by sugar-addled goblins. This is the perfect score." Molly opened the van door. Tinny circus music drifted toward them, followed by the smell of burnt hot dogs. Bill hoisted the empty sack over his shoulder. The canvas sagged with regret. Molly grinned beneath her wool. Her eyes shone with the fire of a true professional. They crept toward the fence. Behind them, a pinwheel spun like a wheel deciding their fate. Inside, a child shrieked.