Run: 2026-07-01-01KWE9281Z6JMKRQXPMA0JVEMY

The warehouse smelled like motor oil and stale pizza, which Bill found comforting in a way he couldn't quite explain. He spread the blueprint across the folding table, smoothing out the wrinkles with the flat of his hand. "So it's a six-year-old's birthday party," Molly said, peering over his shoulder. "You want us to rob a six-year-old's birthday party." "Not just any six-year-old. Tommy Winthrop. His dad owns half the shipping containers in this city. You know what that means?" "That we're going to prison for a very long time?" "It means top-shelf presents, Molly. We're talking drones, gaming consoles, probably a pony made of solid gold knowing these people." "A pony made of solid gold." "Figure of speech." Molly crossed her arms and stared at the blueprint like it had personally insulted her mother. "There's going to be like thirty kids there. Thirty screaming, sugar-crazed children who notice everything. You ever try to sneak past a six-year-old? They've got radar. Better than the Coast Guard." "That's why we're not sneaking. We're going in as the entertainment." "The what?" "The magician cancelled. I made sure of that." Bill grinned, pulling two cheap top hats from a duffel bag like he was revealing the crown jewels. "You're going to be the Amazing Molissa. I'm your assistant, Bartholomew the Magnificent." "Absolutely not." "Come on, it's perfect. We walk in, do a couple card tricks, pull a rabbit out of a hat—" "We don't have a rabbit." "We'll get a rabbit." "Bill." "Fine, no rabbit. Point is, everyone's watching the show, nobody's watching the present table, and you slip out back with the loot while I'm sawing myself in half or whatever." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. "And how exactly do we get thirty wrapped presents out of a house full of parents without anyone noticing a giant hole where the gifts used to be?" "We don't take them all at once. We take them during the piñata." "The piñata." "Every kid in that yard is going to be beating a paper donkey to death with a stick. Parents are filming it on their phones. Nobody's looking at the present table. That's our window." "Our window is a piñata." "Our window is a piñata, Molly, yes." She stared at him for a long moment, then picked up the smaller of the two top hats and turned it over in her hands, inspecting the frayed brim like it might explain how she'd ended up here. "If this goes wrong," she said, "if we get caught by a six-year-old's birthday party—" "We won't." "If we do, I'm telling everyone this was your idea." "It was my idea." "I'm telling everyone it was worse than your idea. I'm telling everyone you also brought the rabbit." Bill smiled, already reaching for the hats. "Amazing Molissa. It's got a ring to it." "I hate you," Molly said, but she was already trying on the hat.