Run: 2026-10-07-01M4ATRBAKGT0P1EW24V9A6XPD

Molly spread the crayon-scrawled invitation across the sticky kitchen table, studying the glitter-sprinkled dinosaur with professional intensity. She pointed at the sunroom layout with a manicured nail. The target was clear: Billy Henderson's fifth birthday party on Saturday at noon, featuring an unsupervised gift table and absolutely zero security beyond one distracted mother and a clown with a water pistol. Bill adjusted his balaclava, currently a modified wool beanie with crude eye holes that made him resemble a bewildered root vegetable. He examined the crayon-drawn map with the gravity of a bomb defusal expert, nodding slowly at the pinata location and the estimated value of vintage Furby collectibles. Molly pulled out a laminated spreadsheet color-coded by black market toy value, her eyes gleaming with criminal ambition. They would hit the pinata first for loose candy, then systematically clear the main stash before the cake arrived with surgical precision. Bill blinked through his eye holes, his expression tragically earnest despite the ridiculous headwear. "Forty-year-old felons with warrants," Bill muttered, adjusting the beanie. Molly smiled, revealing teeth that hadn't seen a dentist since the Obama administration. "They expect children, not criminals." "What about government identification checks?" "We'll simply claim we're fashionably late."