Run: 2026-07-01-01KWE8X7C4NJVAYZTTKTTK06KA

The back of the van smelled like old pizza and desperation. Molly spread the blueprint across her knees—a crayon drawing of a house, stolen from the target's recycling bin. "Bill, this is a five-year-old's drawing of his own house." "Best intel we could get. Kid's got real talent, actually. Look how he did the chimney." "There's a stick figure labeled 'Daddy has a gun.'" "Occupational hazard. We adapt." Molly rubbed her temples. "Remind me why we're robbing a seven-year-old's birthday party." "Because, Moll, nobody suspects the presents at a kid's party. You know how much loot is in there? Grandma money. Uncle guilt money. That weird neighbor who overcompensates because he never has kids over money." "It's a Paw Patrol themed party." "Exactly! Who steals from Paw Patrol? Nobody. That's our cover." "Our cover is a dog cartoon." "Our cover is *innocence*, Molly. Nobody expects a heist at a bouncy castle." Molly tapped the map. "Fine. Entry point?" "Through the side gate, past the piñata station, into the gift table zone. In and out in four minutes." "There's a clown, Bill." "I've handled clowns." "You cried at a clown once. In Reno." "That clown had a knife, Molly. A *real* one. This is a birthday clown. Different breed." "They're all the same breed. They multiply in the dark." Bill ignored her, unrolling a second sheet—an actual napkin with a getaway route sketched in ketchup. "We go in disguised as party entertainment. I already ordered a costume." "What costume?" "Chuck E. Cheese." "That's copyrighted, Bill." "It's *inspired by*. Slightly different ears." Molly closed her eyes. "And what am I supposed to be?" "Balloon artist." "I don't know how to make balloon animals." "Nobody checks, Molly. You just twist and look confident. Confidence is ninety percent of crime." "What's the other ten percent?" "Escape routes and a getaway car that doesn't smell like a locker room." "That's the van's natural smell now. It's part of its personality." Bill grinned, holding up a rubber chicken. "Distraction device." "That's a rubber chicken." "It's a *multi-purpose* rubber chicken. Kids love chickens. While they're laughing, we grab the loot." "You want to rob children using a squeaky toy." "Molly, I want to rob children using *psychological misdirection*. The chicken's just the delivery system." She sighed, staring at the ceiling of the van like it held answers. "If we get caught, I'm blaming you." "If we get caught, we'll be arrested by an officer wearing a Paw Patrol badge sticker. I think we'll manage." "And if there's a piñata malfunction?" "There's always a piñata malfunction. That's when we strike." Molly looked at him for a long moment. "We're really doing this." "We're really doing this." "For the record, I hate every part of this plan." Bill smiled, tucking the rubber chicken under his arm like a briefcase. "That's the spirit, partner. Let's go rob some six-year-olds."