Run: 2026-09-03-01M1KA64QCGDHKRKBTDQ5VY6S5

Molly squinted through the binoculars at the inflatable castle, then lowered them with a grimace. “Bill, I’m seeing a lot of juice boxes. That’s not intel, that’s a sugar rush waiting to happen.” Bill, who was lying on his stomach in the hedge, adjusted his ill-fitting balaclava. “Focus. The presents are under the tarp next to the bouncy castle. They’ve got a unicorn theme. It’s very secure.” “Is the unicorn armed?” Molly asked. “No, but the mom with the clipboard is. She’s got the organizational fury of a general,” Bill said. “We go in at 2:30, during the piñata. That’s when chaos peaks.” “You want to steal gifts from five-year-olds during a sugar rush? That’s not a heist, that’s a war crime,” Molly said. She picked a leaf out of her hair. “I need a better reason. What’s the haul?” Bill pulled a crumpled list from his pocket. “Twelve wrapped boxes. I did recon. Belt-tagged one as ‘From Grandma.’ It’s heavy. Could be a gaming console.” “Could be a casserole dish,” Molly countered. “Grandmas are treacherous.” “Okay, what’s your brilliant plan? Walk in with a party hat and a fake smile?” Molly grinned. “We don’t rob the kids. We rob the parents. You create a diversion—fake a twisted ankle right by the snack table. While everyone’s yelling ‘ice pack,’ I swap the gift tarp with my decoy tarp.” Bill blinked. “You made a decoy tarp.” “I made a decoy tarp,” she said proudly. “It’s printed with the same unicorns. But underneath? Empty boxes wrapped in yesterday’s newspaper.” “That’s … actually good,” Bill admitted. “But what if a kid sees you?” “I’ll tell them I’m the unicorn fairy. Kids love that,” Molly said. “And you’ll be crying like a baby, so no one’s looking at me.” “I don’t cry on command.” “I’ll step on your foot for real,” she offered. “Genuine tears.” Bill sighed, rubbing his ankle preemptively. “And when the parents open the decoy boxes at the end of the party? There’s going to be screaming. Possibly police.” Molly waved a hand. “By then we’re long gone. Also, I left a note inside each decoy box that says ‘The real gift was the friends you made along the way.’ They’ll think it’s a life lesson.” “You’re a monster.” “I’m a professional,” Molly corrected. She checked her watch. “Piñata’s in twenty. You ready to take one for the team?” Bill pulled off his balaclava and used it to wipe his face. “Fine. But if I see a single disappointed kid, I’m telling them your address.” Molly laughed. “Deal. But if the grandma’s box really is a casserole, you’re making me dinner.” She crawled out of the hedge, brushed off her knees, and winked. “Let’s go steal some joy.” Bill followed, muttering, “I need a better agent.”