Run: 2026-07-01-01KWEA229YGYJ9JJ2H6MC68VHZ

The warehouse smelled like stale popcorn and desperation, which Bill figured was appropriate given the caliber of their operation lately. He spread the blueprints across the card table, if you could call a birthday party's floor plan "blueprints." Molly leaned over his shoulder, chewing gum like she was trying to kill it personally. "Six-year-old's birthday party," Bill said, tapping the paper. "Bounce house perimeter, cake table's the main vault, and presents are stacked by the sliding glass door. Practically an invitation." Molly snorted. "We're stealing candy from a baby, Bill. Literally. There will be babies." "They're six. They have insurance. Probably." She studied the layout, unimpressed. The clown entertainment schedule was color-coded, which felt like overkill for a heist involving juice boxes and inflatable castles. Bill had planned bank jobs with less detail. "What's our cover?" Molly asked, popping her gum. "I'm the balloon guy. You're catering." "I don't know how to cater." "You don't know how to make balloon animals either, but here we are." Molly grabbed a fake mustache from the pile of costumes, holding it up with visible skepticism, like it might bite her. Outside, a minivan pulled up, unloading exactly the kind of oblivious rich parents who left garage doors open and expensive gifts unguarded. Showtime, Bill thought, and grinned like an idiot.