Run: 2026-06-01-01KT1HSK4GVRM801HH4BCVFYYF

Molly unrolled a blueprint across the hood of their getaway car. Bill adjusted his balaclava nervously, the elastic snapping against his pudgy cheeks. "Alright, Bill, listen up. This is the biggest score of our careers." "It's a kid's birthday party, Molly." "It's the Henderson residence, Bill. A six-year-old's birthday with seventy-three registered guests. The manifest shows a minimum of forty wrapped presents, plus the piñata contents, which my intel suggests includes gift cards." Bill gulped. "Why would a six-year-old have gift cards?" "Because her grandmother loves her, Bill. Stay focused. We hit at 3:47 PM, when the cake is served and the adults are doing that thing where they pretend to enjoy sparkling wine." "What's my role?" "You are the distraction. You arrive dressed as a clown." "A clown?" "An entertainer, Bill. The parents are expecting one. You're wearing the suit, it's non-negotiable." Bill looked down at his oversized polka-dot ensemble. "I look ridiculous." "You look like a man with a dream and a squeaky nose. Now, your job is to herd the children into the bounce castle. Once they're contained—" "—which won't be easy, Molly, because kids bounce everywhere—" "—you activate the emergency horn. That's my signal. I slip in through the garage, neutralise the birthday father, and sweep the gift table." "Neutralise? You said neutralise?" "I meant distract. I distract the birthday father with a coupon for chimney cleaning. I've been practicing my chimney-cleaning pitch for three weeks, Bill." Molly pulled a tiny earpiece from her pocket and handed it to Bill. He stared at it like it was a jewel. "This is comms. Top of the line. Tiny Tim Industries." "I thought Tiny Tim made novelty birthday hats." "They diversified. Now they make surveillance equipment and novelty birthday hats. It's a strange company." Bill slipped the earpiece in. "Test, test. Am I coming through?" "You're coming through, Bill. Now, when you blow that horn, the chaos will be immense. Children screaming, parents panicking, the birthday mother reaching for her phone to call the police, which is why—" "—we unplug the landline." "Correct. The landline is unplugged. I will be in and out in ninety seconds." "What about the dog?" Molly paused. "What dog?" "The Hendersons have a dog, Molly. A terrier. I saw it on Instagram." "Did you read the room, Bill? The Instagram post said they got a fish." "It also said the fish died, Molly. They replaced it with a terrier named Captain Snuggles." Molly's eye twitched. "Captain Snuggles. Of course. A canine operative. This changes everything." "Should we abort?" "Abort? Bill, we didn't spend six hours sewing clown shoes for you to abort. We adapt. You distract Captain Snuggles with a treat." "What kind of treat?" "A steak treat. I have one in my pocket." Molly produced a small, suspicious-looking brown lump. Bill squinted at it. "Molly, is that a real steak?" "It's a steak treat, Bill. For the dog." "It looks like a real steak." "Everything looks like a steak when you're scared, Bill. Are you scared?" Bill looked at the clown suit. He looked at the brown lump. He looked at the blueprint of a six-year-old's birthday party. "Terrified," he said. "Good," said Molly, grinning. "Fear keeps you sharp. And the clown shoes fit you. Now let's go steal some presents from a bunch of toddlers."