Run: 2026-07-01-01KWE9NK8W5A0EB4VBFXVA6PNP

The warehouse smelled like stale beer and desperation, which suited Molly and Bill just fine. Spread across the table between them was a crude map of the Hendricks' backyard, complete with little stick figures labeled "bouncy castle" and "clown (armed?)." Bill tapped the paper with a greasy finger. "Six-year-old's birthday party. Twenty kids, one bouncy castle, and a present pile taller than my ex-wife's expectations of me." Molly squinted at the diagram. "Security?" "One dad who thinks he's tough because he does CrossFit." "That's it?" "That's it." Molly leaned back, cracking her knuckles like this was some kind of Ocean's Eleven operation instead of robbing a kindergartner. "Entry point?" "Side gate. Unlocked. Apparently trust is still a thing in this neighborhood." "Won't be after today." Bill grinned, sliding a crumpled clown costume across the table. "You're Bobo. I'll be on present duty." Molly held up the costume between two fingers like it was contaminated. "Why am I always the clown?" "Because you scare children naturally. It's a gift." She sighed, already unzipping her jacket. Twenty minutes later, they were creeping toward the gate, a squeaky red nose tucked into Molly's pocket like a loaded weapon.