Run: 2026-09-01-01M1ENV1S1B4R4G3SBRX22011F

Molly tugged Bill’s elbow. “The party starts at seven, and they have the fancy presents.” Bill frowned. “I’m thirty-two. I don’t do balloons.” “You don’t do morality either, and that’s exactly why we’re perfect. The clown is our inside man.” “The clown?” “He punches children for extra cash and holds doors open. We slip past the balloon arch, grab the loot, and vanish via the bounce house.” “The bounce house is made of rubber.” “Exactly. Bulletproof alibis.” “What if the toys are trash?” “Every child has something stealable. We take it all.” “Should we wear hats?” “We’re already wearing hats.” “Good. I don’t want them recognizing my face, though they never do because I’m forgettable.” “You’re memorable for the wrong reasons.” “Like what?” “Your smell.” “I showered.” “With what? Regret?” “The cake is being cut.” “We don’t care about cake.” “We care about the presents underneath it.” “Right. The presents.” “Exactly. Let’s steal them.” “Fine. But if I see one balloon animal, I’m leaving.” “Deal.” They crept to the door. “Wait,” Molly whispered. “Did you bring the sack?” “I brought a nightmare.” “That’s not a sack.” “It holds anxiety better.” “Use the sack.” “Fine. Sack it is.” Bill checked his gloves. “Ready?” “Ready.”