Run: 2026-09-23-01M37NY98V8MFDZDXKSY59M02G

Molly spread the blueprints across the hood of the getaway van, which was really her mother's minivan with a "Baby on Board" sticker peeled halfway off. The blueprints were actually a birthday invitation, decorated with glitter unicorns and the words Tyler Turns Seven. Bill leaned over it, squinting through the ski mask he had insisted on wearing since breakfast. "The bouncy castle is our weak point," he said. Molly stared at him for a long moment. "It's inflatable, Bill." "Exactly. Nobody expects a thief in a bouncy castle." She had to admit, grudgingly, that this was true. Nobody expected a thief anywhere near a bouncy castle, mostly because no thief in recorded history had ever been stupid enough to plan around one. Still, the gift table sat twelve feet from its netted entrance, piled high with boxes wrapped in dinosaur paper and bows the size of dinner plates. Somewhere in that pile, according to reliable intelligence from a gossiping soccer mom, was a limited-edition robot worth four hundred dollars. Molly checked her watch. Cake was at three. Every child would be distracted by frosting, and every parent by their phones. "Fine." Bill pumped his fist and hit the side mirror.