Run: 2026-09-01-01M1EM3KPBM28RQZV7V1H5KEJS

The living room smelled like cheap balloons and regret. Molly tugged her black turtleneck, inside-out and ambitious. Bill hovered by the window, clutching a crayon-covered clipboard. "Bill," she whispered. "Are we really breaking into a children's party?" He nodded. "It's the only event with a bouncy castle, a security guard named Greg who takes bribes in juice boxes, and a dinosaur cake that costs more than my car." Molly pointed at the map. "We enter through the gift table?" "Exactly," Bill said. "The gift table is the vault. The cake is the alarm. And that toddler near the piñata is pure misdirection." "I don't know," Molly sighed. "That toddler has a death stare." "Toddlers are excellent distractions," Bill insisted. "They cry over socks. We are invisible." Molly glanced down. "Invisible? I'm wearing a ski mask made of uncooked spaghetti." "Fashion is risk," Bill said. "When Greg asks for the password, say 'Happy Birthday, Kevin.'" They slipped into the backyard. A clown honked a horn. "He sees us," Molly gasped. "Clowns never snitch," Bill said. "Too busy crying inside." Molly grabbed his arm. "What about the presents?" Bill held up a glittery sack. "Every gift is a promise waiting to be unwrapped by better hands." "Let's do this," Molly said. "Happy birthday to us," Bill whispered.