Run: 2026-09-23-01M37P530FCSNANP5E03Q9D477

The van smelled like old fries and bad decisions. Molly spread a crayon-drawn map of the party venue across the dashboard. "Okay, so the target is a six-year-old's birthday party at the community center," she said, tapping the paper. "Twelve kids, one clown, and a piñata we do NOT touch. That thing is loaded." Bill squinted at the map. "Why's the piñata crossed out in red?" "Because it's a distraction, Bill. You never hit the piñata. The piñata is a trap for amateurs." "Right, right. Okay, so what's the haul?" Molly pulled out a crumpled list. "One bicycle, three LEGO sets — the big ones, the kind parents fight over in parking lots — a karaoke machine, and apparently something called a 'Hatchimal' that my guy says moves on the black market." "Your guy sells toys?" "My guy is eleven and he knows things." Bill leaned back. "So what's my cover? Butcher? Health inspector? Mysterious stranger with a trench coat?" "You're a clown." There was a long silence. "No." "The party already has a clown, genius. That's the beauty of it. We take him out, you slide in. Nobody questions the second clown. It's like a rule." "Kids notice things, Molly. Kids are basically tiny detectives with no hobbies." "Which is why you'll be in the other room, near the presents. I'll be the caterer. I've got the hat and everything." She held up a paper hat that said HAPPY BIRTHDAY in glitter. "That's a party hat." "It's a disguise, Bill. Caterers wear hats." "Caterers do not wear — fine. Fine. So I distract the kids, you bag the presents. What about the parents?" "Covered. I spiked the fruit punch." "You what?" "Relax, it's just extra fiber. Very aggressive fiber. Those adults will be busy for twenty, thirty minutes minimum." Bill rubbed his temples. "So let me recap. We're stealing presents from children, I'm dressed as a clown, you're a fake caterer in a glitter hat, and we've given a dozen parents digestive distress." "You're forgetting the exit strategy." "Oh, thank God. Please, tell me about the exit strategy." "When they bring out the cake, everyone sings. Kids cannot resist singing. It's like a law of nature. During 'Happy Birthday,' we walk out the back door with the goods." Bill stared at her. "That's actually... not terrible." "I know." "One problem. What happens when the kids open the piñata and there's nothing in it because we robbed the entire party?" Molly paused, then reached under her seat and pulled out a bag of off-brand candy. "We leave a decoy haul. Eleven bags of generic candy corn." "Candy corn? In July?" "Desperate times, Bill. Desperate times." He sighed and picked up the red clown nose. "If any of those kids cries, we're returning everything." "We're professionals. Nobody cries." "Nobody cries," he repeated, and honked the nose once, softly, like a man accepting his fate.