Run: 2026-07-01-01KWEAEC9M6ZQ5SS8PA4CPZKFN

The warehouse smelled of old rope and stale coffee, which suited Molly just fine as she spread the blueprints across a card table balanced on a wobbly leg. Bill leaned over her shoulder, squinting at the diagram of the Hendricks' backyard like it was a bank vault instead of a bounce house and a folding table covered in juice boxes. "Explain to me again," Bill said, "why we're robbing an eight-year-old's birthday party." Molly didn't look up. "Because, Bill, somewhere under that pile of Paw Patrol wrapping paper is a limited-edition gaming console that resells for four hundred dollars. Four hundred dollars, Bill." "We're going to prison for Fortnite money." "We're not going to prison. We're going to walk in dressed as clowns, entertain the children, and casually relocate the presents to the getaway van." Bill crossed his arms. "I am not wearing the clown wig again. Last time a toddler pulled it off and screamed for twenty minutes." "That toddler had good instincts." Bill sighed, already reaching for the ridiculous rainbow wig hanging on the hook behind them, muttering something about karma and juice boxes as Molly grinned and began folding the blueprint into her jacket pocket, humming the tune to "Happy Birthday" like a woman with absolutely no shame.