Run: 2026-06-24-01KVX3EC3FSASXWYPNNP4JQFPX

Molly spread the blueprint across the kitchen table, weighting the corners with a bag of stolen diamonds and half a sandwich. Bill leaned in, squinting at the hand-drawn map like it was ancient scripture instead of something she had scribbled on a napkin during recon. "Alright, listen up," Molly said, tapping the paper. "Target is 14 Maple Drive. Saturday, two o'clock sharp. The kid turns seven, which means we've got approximately twenty guests under four feet tall and a bouncy castle in the backyard." "A bouncy castle?" Bill raised an eyebrow. "You're worried about a bouncy castle?" "I'm never worried. I'm informed. There's a difference. The bouncy castle is a variable. Kids will be inside it screaming like howler monkeys for a solid forty minutes. That's our window." Bill scratched his chin. He had been scratching his chin a lot lately, ever since he grew the mustache. It was a terrible mustache, patchy and sad, but he seemed to think it lent him an air of criminal sophistication. Molly had chosen not to comment. "What about the parents?" he asked. "Three mothers in the kitchen doing cake prep. One father grilling hot dogs in the backyard, beer in hand, completely checked out. We go through the side gate, into the garage where they've stacked the gift table, grab everything, and vanish before anyone notices the Pikachu cake has been cut." "What if someone sees us?" Molly stared at him. "It's a children's party, Bill. You're six foot three and built like a refrigerator. Nobody is going to tackle you. The worst case scenario is a seven year old cries." "I don't like making kids cry." "Then wear a mask. Wear a clown mask. It's a party. They'll think you're entertainment." Bill considered this for a moment, nodding slowly the way he did when he was trying to look thoughtful but was actually just buying time. He picked up the sandwich, took a bite, and set it back down on the blueprint, leaving a mustard stain directly over the escape route. "That's our exit path," Molly said through clenched teeth. "Sorry." He moved the sandwich. "So we're just stealing presents from children. That's where we are now." "That's where we've been for three weeks. You agreed in the parking lot of that Taco Bell. You shook on it." "I know, I know. It just feels different now that it's real. Those are kids, Molly. Little kids." She sighed and sat back in her chair. The ceiling fan wobbled overhead, casting shaky shadows across the table. Somewhere in the apartment next door, a dog was barking at what sounded like either a vacuum cleaner or a war. "Let me put this in perspective for you," she said. "That party has a Nintendo Switch on the gift table. A Nintendo Switch. Do you know what we could get for that?" "A clear conscience if we just bought our own?" "Realistic money, Bill. Realistic money. Plus there are at least six gift cards, a Lego set, and what I am fairly certain is a diamond bracelet from the grandmother because this family has more money than sense." "Diamonds on a seven year old." "I'm not here to judge their parenting. I'm here to steal their loot." She rolled up the blueprint and tucked it under her arm. "We move Saturday. Wear something you can run in. And for the love of God, shave that mustache." He touched his upper lip defensively. "What's wrong with the mustache?" "Everything, Bill. Everything is wrong with the mustache."