Run: 2026-09-02-01M1GRBV14XK0B1AP11BDMF5DG

Molly lay flat in the hydrangeas, binoculars pressed to her face, cataloguing the enemy. Beyond the hedge, a princess-themed party raged—twelve six-year-olds, one exhausted mother, and a table of presents glittering like a bank vault made of wrapping paper. "There," she whispered. "Bouncy castle. That's our entry point." Bill consulted his clipboard, which was actually a menu he'd stolen from the car. "It's a bouncy castle, Molly. Everything is an entry point." "Then we exploit the chaos. You go in as the entertainer." He held up the squeaky red nose. "I hate this. It honks when I breathe." "Then breathe less." She jabbed a finger toward the present table. "We strike during cake. Candles, screaming, forty phone cameras pointed the wrong way. I fill the sack; you keep the adults distracted with balloon animals." "What if a kid sees you?" "Nobody suspects the clown's assistant." "There's an assistant?" "You. You're also the clown. Budget cuts." Bill exhaled. The nose honked twice, loudly. Somewhere inside the house, a dog answered. "And the getaway?" he asked. Molly pointed across the street to a van hand-painted with the words PETTING ZOO. "The llama's a rescue," she said. "He has anxiety. Drive gently."