Run: 2026-10-07-01M4AT28MVPKFN68VYR77K1C6W

Molly spread the crayon-drawn map across the dusty coffee table, her finger tracing a glittery circle labeled BOUNCY CASTLE. The stick figure wore a party hat and appeared to be screaming. She leaned forward, eyes gleaming with criminal ambition. "It's perfect," she whispered. "Seven-year-old Tyler Morrison. Saturday. Three o'clock sharp." Bill adjusted his balaclava, which remained tangled around his own face. He peeled the wool from his mouth with a wet sucking sound and stared at the map with mounting horror. Children's parties meant clowns, juice boxes, and the birthday song. He had not signed up for this level of psychological warfare. Molly tapped the paper with a stolen toy lightsaber, her enthusiasm undimmed by his obvious distress. She described the plan in rapid whispers: no alarms, just a bouncy castle and distracted parents, hitting the buffet first to establish dominance, then working the gift table while they watched a magician pull doves from hats. The haul would be enormous—video games, LEGO sets, cash in cards. Bill simply groaned. "We have to sing," he said, his voice cracking. "Obviously," Molly replied, already packing her duffel bag. "Riches await. They'll never expect the tactical advance."