Run: 2026-09-02-01M1GX53FQGNHS6VHGD1Y4VM1X

The van sat across the street from the community center, engine off, windows fogging from the inside. Somewhere beyond the glass, a kazoo version of "Happy Birthday" was starting up. Molly checked her watch for the fourth time. "Third birthday party," she said. "Tell me the intel is not a third birthday party." Bill adjusted his binoculars. "The intel is a Lisa Frank-themed celebration, two o'clock sharp, gift table located near the punch bowl. Estimated thirty presents, minimum." "Thirty presents." "Kids these days have big social networks." Molly snatched the binoculars. Through the fog she could make out balloons. So many balloons. "Who's the mark?" "Birthday girl's name is Penelope. Turns three today." "We're robbing a toddler." "We're robbing her guests, technically. Penelope keeps her own presents. We take the—" "No. Bill. The plan was a jewelry exchange. You said jewelry exchange." "There was a change of orders." "From who?" Bill studied the balloons. "From WHO, Bill?" "Your mother." Molly set the binoculars down very, very slowly. "My mother hired us to rob a children's party." "Your cousin's kid's party. She says Penelope's side goes overboard every year and little Tommy never gets anything nice, and—" "So this is a favor heist." "It's a favor heist." Molly rubbed her temples and quietly said goodbye to her retirement plan. "Fine. Walk me through security." "Okay. East entrance, there's a man. Big guy. Ball cap. Father of the birthday girl, and per my source he's been drinking coffee since six a.m." "So he's wired." "Wired and paranoid. Someone's uncle stepped on the bouncy castle last year, and he has never forgiven the neighborhood." "And the west entrance?" "Husbands hiding from the party. They won't stop us. They'll thank us for the distraction." "What about the clown?" Bill's jaw tightened. "What about him?" Molly leaned in close. "Bill. Is the clown a problem?" "He does balloon animals AND face painting. That's a two-skill clown, Molly. You don't see that outside of Ringling." "So we wait for the clown to get busy." "The clown is never busy. The clown sees everything. Yesterday he took a four-minute smoke break and spent the whole time juggling. Practicing. For us." Molly stared at him. "Okay. New plan. I go in as a mom." "With what kid?" She reached into the back of the van and dragged out a car seat. A baby doll stared up at them. "You had a prop baby ready." "I always have a prop baby ready. That's called professionalism, Bill." "That doll is missing an arm." "Babies lose arms, Bill. It's realistic." Bill turned back to the window, where the balloons swayed like taunting little informants. "The gift table is guarded, you know." "By who?" "A grandmother. Folding chair. Crossed arms. Your mother warned me about her specifically." "My mother is on their side?" "Your mother is a complicated woman." Molly started the engine. "Fine. We go in through the bouncy castle." Bill looked at her, genuinely horrified. "Nobody goes through the bouncy castle. That's suicide." "Then we go through the punch bowl." "...I'll get the prop baby."