Run: 2026-10-13-01M4TAVGHHCGFP5WFTZ821JAT3

Molly unrolled the blueprint across the van's hood, weighing the corners down with juice boxes. "The bouncy castle is our way in. You're going as the clown." "Clowns see everything, Mol. They're cops with worse shoes." "It's a six-year-old's birthday, not Fort Knox." "Fort Knox doesn't have a piñata full of witnesses." She tapped the gift table, circled in red marker and labeled THE SCORE. "Thirty presents, says my source. One's a trampoline." "Who's the source?" "His grandmother. Her knees can't take it." Bill rubbed the mustache he'd grown specifically for criminal occasions. "We're stealing from a child." "We're redistributing joy." "To us." "Capitalism, Bill." He sighed and pulled the clown wig from the duffel bag, holding it at arm's length like a dead animal. "If one balloon animal pops, I'm walking." "The magician's off limits. He's seen things." Bill stared at the bouncy castle swaying in the distance like a pastel fortress. Somewhere inside, a child laughed, and thirty wrapped boxes waited under a folding table. He put on the red nose. He had never felt more ridiculous. "This is the lowest we've ever sunk," he said. "Lower than the aquarium job?" "The aquarium job had dignity."