Run: 2026-07-01-01KWE94EQTPR0P9KT6RYWNPFK4

The back room of Bill's Pawn & Loan smelled like mothballs and desperation, which Molly figured was appropriate given their current career trajectory. "A kid's birthday party," she said, staring at the blueprint Bill had drawn in crayon. "We've robbed banks, Bill. Actual banks. With vaults." "Banks got security guards. This is a six-year-old's birthday party at a bounce house facility called Jumpin' Jimmy's. Worst case scenario, we get tackled by a golden retriever." "That's not comforting, that's concerning. When did we start planning heists around bounce houses?" "Since the market for stolen bearer bonds dried up. Look, presents, Molly. Fifty kids, fifty presents, all wrapped and unattended in a designated 'gift zone' while the parents drink boxed wine and pretend to enjoy watching children scream for three hours." "You've done recon." "I've done recon." Molly picked up the crayon drawing, turning it sideways like that might help. It didn't. "This says 'candy cannon' with three question marks." "There's a candy cannon, Molly. I don't know what it does. It's load-bearing to the plan somehow, I just haven't figured out how yet." "Great. Solid foundation." She set it down. "What's our cover?" "Balloon artists." "We don't know how to make balloon animals." "Nobody knows how to make balloon animals, Molly, that's the beauty of it. You just twist until it looks like a dog and cry a little when it doesn't." "I'm not crying at a children's party." "You cried at the Fitzgerald heist when the alarm went off." "That was different, I stubbed my toe on a marble bust worth eleven thousand dollars, there were extenuating circumstances." Bill sighed, rubbing his temples like she was the unreasonable one here. "Fine. No crying required. We show up, we're 'Bonzo and Twisty,' we make bad balloon animals as a distraction, and while every kid in a ten-foot radius is watching us fail to construct a giraffe, I slip into the gift zone and load presents into the diaper bag." "You're carrying a diaper bag." "It's got a lot of room, Molly. Practical design. Whoever invented that thing was thinking about heists." "They were thinking about diapers, Bill." "Same energy." She dragged a hand down her face. "And if a parent notices fifty presents just, evaporating from a table?" "That's why we take them gradually. One or two at a time. By the time cake gets cut, we're gone, they're short a few Paw Patrol sets, and everybody just assumes some kid's older sibling was a jerk." "That's your whole plan. Blame a fictional jerk sibling." "There's always a jerk sibling, Molly. Statistically. It's a solid alibi." She looked at him for a long moment, then at the crayon map, then back at him. "We're really doing this." "Bonzo and Twisty ride again." "I want it on record that I think the candy cannon is going to be our undoing." "Duly noted. Now, practice your giraffe."