Run: 2026-09-23-01M36W3Z4858E44EBDWMCEMXQV

Molly studied the flier pinned to the community center bulletin board like it was a classified intelligence document. Behind her, Bill balanced a pencil behind each ear and held a notebook at a suspicious angle, pretending to browse the lost-and-found key ring display. The flier advertised a seven-year-old's birthday party. Three hours. Twelve guests. And, according to Molly's sources, a mountain of wrapped presents stacked dangerously high beneath a folding table. "This is rich territory. The big haul," Molly whispered. Bill chewed his pencil. "Do we really want to rob children?" "Those gifts were wrapped by parents," Molly said. She pulled a laminated clipboard from inside her trench coat and tapped a carefully hand-drawn schematic of the room. Decorations, balloon arch, DJ booth operated by a man named Phil who clearly charged by the hour and would look the other way for cash. The presents sat twenty feet from the nearest emergency exit. Child's play, ironically. Bill scribbled something in his notebook that turned out to be a doodle of the entire balloon arch. Molly circled the layout twice. She circled the exit three more times. Then she circled the word cake on the catering menu for entirely different reasons.