Run: 2026-05-31-01KSYXB2B41BBZ8YWZMQ8YYFXQ

Molly spread the crayon-drawn map across the table and tapped it with one finger. "Okay, Bill. The party starts at two. We hit it at two-fifteen, while they're distracted by the clown." Bill leaned closer, squinting. "There's a clown?" "There's always a clown." "I hate clowns." "Everyone hates clowns, Bill. That's not relevant to the operation." Bill straightened up and crossed his arms. "It's relevant to me. What if he sees us?" "He's a children's entertainer named Mr. Boppo. He's not going to alert Interpol." "You don't know that. Clowns have a network. They communicate through the balloons." Molly stared at him for a long moment. "I genuinely don't know how to respond to that, so I'm going to keep going. We go in through the back, near the bouncy castle—" "The bouncy castle's a death trap." "It's a bouncy castle, Bill. For five-year-olds." "It's an inflatable structure with unstable footing. One wrong step and I'm face-down in front of thirty children and a balloon-coded clown." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. "Can we focus? The presents are stacked on the gift table by the window. We grab everything, load it into the van, and we're gone before anyone cuts the cake." "What kind of cake?" "Why does that matter?" "Because if it's ice cream cake, I want to time it so we leave with a slice." "We are not stopping for cake." "You never let me have anything nice." Molly slid a photograph across the table. "This is the target. Birthday boy. Turning six. His grandparents are loaded, so these presents are premium. We're talking name-brand toys, sealed video games, possibly a tablet." Bill picked up the photo and frowned. "He looks sad." "He does not look sad." "He's got sad little eyes. Like a tiny businessman who's lost everything." "Bill." "I'm just saying, we're stealing presents from a sad tiny businessman. That's dark, Molly. Even for us." "Last week you stole a wheelchair." "That was for the plot! It was part of a larger plan!" "It was outside a hospital." Bill threw up his hands. "We agreed never to bring up the wheelchair!" Molly took a deep, steadying breath. "Let's just review the exit. Once we have the presents, we go out the side gate, into the alley, and the van's waiting. Two minutes, in and out." "What's my alias?" "You don't need an alias. We're wearing masks." Bill's face lit up. "What kind of masks? Please say superhero. I want to be the fast one." "They're plain black ski masks." "That's so boring. We're robbing a six-year-old. We should commit to a theme." Molly rolled up the map slowly. "You know what? Forget the theme. Forget the cake. Just be at the van at two o'clock." Bill nodded solemnly, then paused. "One question." "What." "If Mr. Boppo offers me a balloon animal, am I allowed to take it?" Molly walked out of the room without another word. "That's a yes!" Bill called after her. "I'm getting a balloon dog!"