Run: 2026-09-24-01M39WSRVWZ26GJC6114A7Z3GA

Molly and Bill crouched behind a topiary giraffe, surveilling the Henderson boy's seventh birthday. The backyard glittered with a professionally wrapped mountain of presents—a hoard that would fetch a fortune at the pawn shop on Fifth Street. Bill adjusted his binoculars, stolen from a birdwatcher that afternoon, and tracked enemy movements: four mothers armed with mimosas, one teenager sweating through a dinosaur mascot suit, and a labradoodle functioning as unpaid security. Molly sketched the infiltration route on a napkin: over the fence, under the bounce castle's shadow, grab, and gone. "The clown worries me," Bill whispered. Molly rolled her eyes. Clowns were decoys. Everyone knew that. The real threat was the piñata—a unicorn-shaped thing swinging ominously in the breeze. A piñata full of candy was basically a grenade for children. One whack and the whole party would stampede. The plan was simple, elegant, and deeply stupid, which is how Molly knew it would work. "What do we even do with them?" Bill asked. "Pawn it. Store credit," Molly said. Bill asked if that made them monsters. "It makes us professionals, Bill," she said. Bill sighed. He'd wanted to be an astronaut. Instead, at forty-two, he was hiding from a clown.