Run: 2026-09-23-01M36V78YG85X76X1BKZNQE11T

Bill crouched behind the garden fence, binoculars pressed to his face. A six-year-old's birthday party raged on the lawn below. Streamers, balloons, and an absolutely catastrophic amount of wrapping paper. He'd been staking the place out for two hours, ever since the invitation went up online. "Count the presents again," Molly whispered. "Why again?" "Because last time your answer was literally 'some.' That's not a real number, Bill." "Fine. Eleven. Maybe twelve. There's a tower of them on the side table." Molly pulled a balaclava over her curly hair. "Here's the plan. You distract the clown while I slip in through the back door and grab everything." "What kind of distraction exactly are we talking about?" "Scream fire. Something dramatic. Really sell it." "Before twenty toddlers? They'll associate clowns with terror forever. That's genuine psychological damage, Molly." "They already do. It's a target-rich environment. Let's move before someone opens a present." She vaulted the fence with alarming grace and disappeared around the side of the house. Bill stood alone for a long moment, then sighed and adjusted his own cheap ill-fitting mask. "I just wanted to rob museums," he whispered softly to nobody in particular. Then he ran after her.