Run: 2026-05-27-01KSMF9YBF9FMQ2ZZCBPQDJ4FJ

Molly propped her feet up on the table, swinging a chair back and forth as she watched Bill pace around their tiny apartment. Billboard photos of failed heists covered the walls like war commission posters. "He's not going to notice," Bill insisted, rubbing his temples. "Mr. Hudson is a self-absorbed millionaire with the attention span of a goldfish. He'll be too busy showing off his new drone collection." "At a kid's party?" Molly asked, arching an eyebrow. "His drone collection is irrelevant. We have to worry about the pony, Bill. The pony is the wildcard." "The pony? Really?" Bill stopped pacing and turned to her. "We've hit diamond exchanges, art galleries, even a zeppelin once. And now you're concerned about a pony?" "Listen to me," Molly tapped the map laid out between them. "This isn't some rich guy's mansion with itty-bitty security. This is Rainbow Unicorn Paradise – Children's Party Arena Plus. The place will be crawling with parents, balloons, and approximately fifteen hyperactive six-year-olds. All with rating potential." "Fifteen? I thought it was twenty." "They found the birthday cake early. Four of them went home sick. Little Kevin had a nut allergy." "Kevin's the guy who gave you that>-" "Focus, Bill!" Molly slammed her fist on the table, making a plastic cup of stale coffee jump. "Security cameras in every corner, a bouncer who might be a bouncer but also might be a twisted variety of fortune teller with a past history of stunt work, and the presents – they're under a inflatable castle that doubles as a panic room." "We've handled worse." "Third floor, mounted on springs. The whole damn thing bounces. Security bounces, items bounce, we bounce. As soon as that top pops, we get a rotating target." "Forget the pony, let's talk about the dog." "What dog?" "The one Mr. Hudson apparently brought for his daughter. Apparently it's a giant poodle with more attitude than sense." "Giant poodles are surprisingly agile of fence jumpers." "Loves presents. Often keeps souvenirs in its mouth." "Does it sniff out thieves?" Molly demanded. "I'm pretty sure it just eats hair ties and then makes baskets with them. But the mom vacuumed up what looked like a target list." "I don't know if I'm more worried about the pony or a giant poodle crafting basketry from lost evidence." "Either way, we need to cook up a better distraction than the one you suggested." Bill crossed his arms. "Setting off fireworks in the restroom is not sophisticated, Molly." "I wanted them to think it was the escape route." She glared at him. "Minor detail, big picture, Bill. We're hitting a kids' party because it's chaotically unprotected, the items are smaller than usual, and the host doesn't have the stomach for real violence." "Mr. Hudson once broke a waiters arm during a dispute about brandied cherries in his dessert." "See? Keen eye for detail." Molly stood up. "New plan. We go in as clowns." "Clowns?" "Think about it – reception looks like a traveling circus. We blend. Overweight devrait unharmed, parents are preoccupied by balloons animal, and we can carry out as much stuff as we piacere in these colorful bags." "You really think we can pull this off?" "Stick with me, Bill." Molly slapped him on the back as she headed to the costume rack. "It's a cake walk. Possibly literally."