Run: 2026-09-02-01M1GRFE2HQ7RY6CGTW4E8VAY6

Molly crouched behind the bouncy castle, binoculars pressed to her face despite standing three feet from the target. "There," she whispered. "The present table. Forty-three packages." Bill consulted his clipboard, which contained nothing but a drawing of a sandwich. He'd been nervous all week. This was their biggest job yet—a seven-year-old's birthday party, security consisting of one exhausted mother and a clown named Twinkles. The plan was elegant. Molly would pose as a balloon artist with questionable credentials. Bill, meanwhile, would infiltrate via the snack table, where his particular skills—eating quickly and looking harmless—would matter. "Twelve minutes until cake," Molly said. "Then we cut the power." Bill nodded solemnly. He'd rehearsed for weeks, even attempting to disguise himself as a present, until he got trapped inside a gift roll and Molly had to cut him free. The exit route was mapped: over the fence, through Mrs. Patterson's azaleas, into the getaway van. Bill had decorated it with glitter letters reading "JUST CAKE DELIVERY," which Molly considered genius and profoundly stupid. Children shrieked below. Molly felt a pang of guilt, then remembered the vintage robot, worth four grand minimum. "You ready, Bill?" she asked. Bill burped. "Born ready."