Run: 2026-09-23-01M36WHEN2V2056J5QM3BPQGA9

The van was parked three blocks from the birthday party venue, engine ticking as the autumn air cooled it. Inside, Molly spread a floor plan across the dashboard while Bill tried to unwrap a protein bar with his knife hand still bandaged from a misadventure with a garden shed. "Alright, listen up, Bill. The party starts at two. Thirty kids, parents hovering like seagulls over chips." "Shouldn't we be worried about the parents?" Bill asked, licking chocolate from his fingers. "The parents will be hammered by three. You know how it goes. The dads stay sober for exactly two slices of cake, then someone brings out the wine. We go in when the first dad starts telling that story about his boat." "He always has a boat story." "They all have a boat story." Molly tapped the floor plan. "There are forty-two wrapped gifts stacked behind the bouncy castle. Forty-two, Bill. Can you imagine what's in there? Electronics. Tablets. Those little drones kids go insane for." "What about gift cards?" Bill leaned in. "Gift cards are just money with bows. We take them all." Molly pulled out a pair of work gloves and snapped them on. "We dress as caterers." "Caterers? We don't look like caterers." "You look like a caterer who ate all the food and hated himself for it. Put on the apron." Bill examined the apron suspiciously. "Where did you even get this?" "It has the bakery's name on it. Wholesome Mary's Kitchen." "We're not Wholesome Mary." "Wholesome Mary is off sick. We're her backup." Molly handed him a tray of fake pastry boxes. "You hold this. I'll do the talking. We walk in through the kitchen entrance, load the gifts into the boxes, and walk out the front." "What if someone asks who we are?" "Then you say you're a new hire, look confused, and offer them a canapé." "You just said fake pastry boxes." "Bill. Focus. The point is you give them something shiny and green and they don't ask follow-up questions." She tore open a bag of mini sandwiches. "Also, be quick. We've got five minutes after the dads get sentimental or before the mum who works in security notices a man she doesn't recognize carrying trays in an apron with the wrong bakery's name." Bill nodded slowly. "And the drone I want. The one in the red box." "Your taste in loot remains deeply questionable, but yes, you can have the drone." Molly closed the floor plan and killed the van's interior light. "Let's go steal some children's presents." "Is it weird that I'm more nervous about this than the bank job?" "The bank job took six months. This takes six minutes. You should be less nervous." "I'm nervous because parents are unpredictable. Banks have rules." "So do children." Molly slid open the side door. "Rule one: they never look behind them. Rule two: they'll scream if you make eye contact for more than three seconds. Rule three—" "Never talk to the birthday girl?" "Now you're learning."