Run: 2026-09-02-01M1GSTBFM1E0KSFP9MQ1EP1JT

Molly crouched behind the dumpster. "There. The target." "A children's party?" Bill lowered his binoculars. "You said this was a big score." "It is. Richie Hartwell's turning seven. His dad owns half the diamond district." "So we're stealing a seven-year-old's presents?" "We're redistributing wealth, Bill. The presents are simply assets." "With Scooby-Doo wrapping paper." "Assets come in all papers. Now, the perimeter. You see the bouncy castle?" "Hard to miss, Molly." "That's their security system." Bill stared. "It's full of kindergartners." "Exactly. Nobody suspects the kindergartners. They're deployed at 1400 hours for cake. That's our window." "And the parents?" "Two helium tanks and a mom with a whistle. Respect the whistle." Bill nodded grimly. "My cousin lost a kneecap at a trampoline park." "We all have war stories. Now, the clown—Reggie—he's a freelancer. Slip him fifty and he'll twist balloon poodles till Christmas." "He remembers me from the mall job, Molly. He wept." "Then you handle the piñata. Bust it open, everyone rushes the candy, and I walk out with the loot." "Walk out? Openly?" "I'm dressed as the entertainment. Ever seen a unicorn haul a wagon?" Bill sighed heavily. "Once. In a dream. It ended badly for everyone involved."