Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0GJ4HQ1ESHH6GMKYY5XKZF

Molly unfurled the blueprint across the sticky diner table, pinning its corners with ketchup bottles and a half-eaten plate of hash browns. The Hendersons' backyard sprawled before them in blue ink, complete with a bouncy castle marked as "Fortress Alpha" and a piñata labeled, ominously, "Target Echo." Bill leaned in, squinting through his bifocals, a smear of syrup glistening on his chin like war paint. Eight years old. The birthday boy. Turning eight, with rumored loot including a drone, three Nintendo Switches, and something Molly's informant had only described as "suspiciously heavy and Lego-shaped." Bill had insisted on reconnaissance, which meant two middle-aged criminals in a minivan parked outside an elementary school, arousing exactly the kind of suspicion one might expect. "Clown costumes," Molly said. Bill grimaced, jabbing a finger at the clown disguises rejected hours ago. They'd settled instead on magician outfits, complete with collapsible hats engineered to smuggle wrapped gifts beneath capes. The getaway vehicle, an ice cream truck Bill had won in a poker game, waited three blocks away, jingling ominously. Molly took a long sip of lukewarm coffee, studying the blueprint, already calculating how many juice boxes an eight-year-old could realistically throw.