Run: 2026-06-01-01KT1GYTMH4EZ4YDAJE6JN48D3

Molly spread the blueprint across the table, smoothing out the wrinkles with the side of her hand. "The target is a backyard. Suburban. Maximum security consists of one bouncy castle and a clown named Mr. Wiggles." Bill leaned in, squinting. "That's not a blueprint. That's a kid's drawing of a house." "It's all I could get. Tommy's mom posted it on the fridge, and I photographed it during the open house." "Why were you at an open house for a seven-year-old's birthday?" Molly waved her hand dismissively. "Reconnaissance. Now focus. The presents arrive between two and three. They get stacked on a folding table near the snacks." Bill scratched his chin. "And how do we get past the parents?" "Disguises." Molly reached into a duffel bag and pulled out two crumpled costumes. "I'm going as the face painter. You're the magician." "I don't know any magic." "You don't need to. You just need to keep the adults distracted while I load the loot into the van." Bill held up the magician's outfit, frowning at the moth holes. "This smells like a wet dog and regret." "It came from a thrift store. Beggars can't be choosers, Bill." He sighed and started buttoning the velvet jacket. "What's the actual haul here? We're talking, what, action figures? Building blocks?" "You underestimate modern children." Molly pointed at the drawing with a pen. "Tablets. Gaming consoles. One kid's parents are loaded, and the gossip says he's getting a drone. A drone, Bill." "A drone." Bill's eyes lit up. "Okay, now you're talking my language." "I knew that would get you." She smiled and rolled up the paper. "We're in and out in twenty minutes. No one suspects the entertainment." Bill pulled a foam wand from his pocket and waved it experimentally. A limp paper flower flopped out of the end. "What if a kid asks me to do a real trick?" "Then you make their juice box disappear. Improvise." "And the clown? Mr. Wiggles?" Molly's expression darkened. "Mr. Wiggles is the wild card. He's a professional. Real union performer. If anyone's going to recognize a fraud, it's him." "So what do we do about him?" "We keep him busy. There's a rumor he's terrified of balloon dogs that aren't his own." She produced a pack of balloons and tossed them to Bill. "You'll twist a few. Psychological warfare." Bill caught them and stared. "This is the dumbest plan I've ever agreed to." "And yet here you are, in a velvet jacket that smells like regret." He couldn't argue with that. "Fine. But if this goes sideways and I end up wrestling a clown in a bouncy castle, I want a bigger cut." "Deal." Molly extended her hand, and they shook on it. "Now, one last thing. When the singing starts—'Happy Birthday'—that's our signal. Everyone's eyes will be on the cake." Bill nodded slowly, a grin creeping across his face. "And while they're wishing, we'll be taking." "Exactly." Molly zipped the bag shut. "Now let's go ruin a child's special day."