Run: 2026-09-02-01M1GWSNKYPGJFA1MYBB0E6SJD

Molly unrolled the blueprints across the table: a crayon drawing of someone's backyard. "Alright, Bill, walk me through it." "Simple, Mol. The Henderson kid's turning eight Saturday. Bounce house, pony rides, forty presents minimum." "Forty? That's a haul." "Exactly. Kid's popular. Parents loaded. We win." "So what's the security situation?" "One bouncy castle attendant. Big fella. Named Todd." "Todd. Former military?" "Former fed. We think." "You 'think'? Bill, we don't wing it. What's his background?" "He hands out juice boxes with terrifying efficiency. Never blinks during pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey." "Good instincts. What about parents?" "Highest threat level. Mothers with camcorders. They see everything, remember everything, photograph everything." "So we go in as clowns." "I'm terrified of clowns, Mol." "You're a career criminal, Bill." "Clowns are different. Nobody's accountable to what happens under that makeup." "Fine. You're the pony handler." "The ponies bite, Molly." "Everything bites, Bill. It's a heist. Now, the cake. Distraction or exit strategy?" "Both. I learned things in clown school before I dropped out." "There was clown school?" "Four weeks. Learned nothing about balloons. Learned everything about frosting." "So we steal the presents—" "And we eat the evidence." "Last question. What do we tell the kid?" "Nothing. Kids forget everything." "Mothers with camcorders don't."