Run: 2026-07-01-01KWEA3D2SDHMPA4JXN8D5HW91

The warehouse smelled like stale pizza and broken dreams, which suited Molly just fine as she spread the blueprints across a card table balanced on cinder blocks. Bill hunched over her shoulder, breathing loudly through his nose in a way that made concentration nearly impossible. "Explain to me again," Bill said, "why we're robbing an eight-year-old's birthday party." Molly didn't look up. "Because, Bill, eight-year-olds get unreasonable numbers of presents these days. We're talking gaming consoles, designer sneakers, one kid apparently got a hoverboard last year. It's obscene." "It's a children's party." "It's a goldmine with a bounce house." Bill rubbed his temples. The plan, as far as he understood it, involved dressing as a magician—Molly's idea, naturally—while she slipped through the side entrance disguised as catering staff. Simple enough, except Bill couldn't do a single card trick and the closest he'd come to catering was microwaving a burrito. "What if someone asks me to pull a rabbit out of a hat?" "Improvise." "I don't have a rabbit." "Then pull out your dignity. Same effect, probably." Bill sighed, adjusting his cape, already regretting every decision that had led him here.