Run: 2026-05-27-01KSMEMA9XD8YYRAAMD7H1XGFY

Molly adjusted her sunglasses, though she wore them under a wig of ineptly dyed blue hair that looked suspiciously like a cleaning rag. "We have a timeline problem," she whispered, studying the targeting map on her phone. The sunny suburban street was ominously quiet, the only movement coming from a lawn sprinkler that seemed to have a personal vendetta against a particularly stubborn dandelion. Bill wiped sweat from his brow, his bow-tie hanging slightly askew despite multiple attempts to tighten it. "It's just a kids' party, Mol. They'll be too busy stuffing their faces to notice we're stuffing our pockets." He jingled a puzzlingly large number of keys that weren't his. "Which is exactly why we're operating on borrowed time," Molly hissed, crumpling the invitation she'd nabbed from the school's lost and found. "Patty birthday girl. Seven years old. That means attention span of a gnat, but also parent vigilance of a énormously bored hawk." The sound of a balloon popping in the distance made both of them jump. "We need a diversion," Bill said, the pragmatism finally kicking in as he produced a small fire whistle from his pocket. "I was thinking... smoke?" Molly rolled her eyes so forcefully she was pretty sure she could see the future. "No, you oaf. We need children's entertainment value. Remember that time at the jewelry store when you tried to use a whoopee cushion?" "You said it was affable," Bill sulked. "It was adjacent to fun being inadequate," Molly corrected, already mentally calculating how long it would take to assemble a costumed distraction from the supplies in Bill's van of questionable origin. "We go in, we get the 'gifts' for the disenfranchised, we leave before the looters lose their minds over the demolition man cake." Bill nodded professionally, carefully not thinking about the previous week's incident involving a security system and what they'd thought was a "perfectly safe" amount of nitrogen triiodide.