Run: 2026-10-13-01M4TBMAA6Z4ANXF2V8Y9M51T9

Molly crouched behind the hedge outside the Wilson house, binoculars pressed to her eyes, watching a clown wrestle a balloon giraffe while twenty sugar-fuelled children screamed like tiny air raid sirens. Bill lay beside her in the mulch, wearing a ghillie suit he had bought for a bank job in Scotland and refused to ever leave at home without. A garden gnome stared at them judgingly. "Okay, birthday cake is at fourteen hundred hours, presents stacked by the patio, zero security except Brenda." Molly whispered into a headset she did not need because Bill was six inches away. "Brenda is the grandmother with the handbag that knocked out a traffic warden, remember? I respect Brenda." Bill said, scratching mulch from his ear and trying not to sneeze on a daisy. "Focus. You go in as entertainment. I slip round back, grab the loot, meet at the inflatable castle." She unzipped a duffel bag revealing a unicorn costume, a magician's cape, three water pistols, and enough party poppers to stage a small revolution in a bouncy suburb. Bill stared at the unicorn head as if it had personally betrayed him during a previous life. "I am not wearing that. Last time I wore fancy dress, Interpol got photographs and a nickname." The nickname had been Sparklehoof, and it still appeared on two watchlists and one very flattering fan blog run out of Belgium. "Wear it or explain to Big Sal why we retired on a stolen tricycle and six colouring books." Inside the garden, a piñata burst prematurely, scattering sweets and causing a diplomatic incident among the under-sevens. Two dads fought politely over the last sausage roll while the birthday boy, Timmy, declared himself king and annexed the trampoline. Molly checked her watch, her burner phone, and the escape route she had drawn on a napkin in ketchup. "Fine, but if anyone climbs on my back, I am charging them and keeping the deposit this time." Bill pulled the costume over his head, immediately walked into the hedge, reversed, apologised to the gnome, and tried again with what dignity a six-foot unicorn in mulch could reasonably retain on a Saturday afternoon. "Beautiful. You look magical, terrifying, and slightly damp. Now trot in when the clown starts the musical statues." She handed him a wand made from a loo brush and glitter glue. "And if the kids ask for balloon animals, what then? I only know sausage, snake, and smaller sausage." From beyond the fence came the opening bars of musical statues, a song so cheerful it should have been illegal in twelve countries. Children froze mid-scream. The clown froze too, possibly from fear. Molly gave Bill a firm shove between the shoulder blades and watched him canter through the side gate to thunderous applause. "Go steal childhood, Sparklehoof, but leave Timmy the dinosaur book." She slipped toward the shiny presents, sack ready, conscience conveniently quiet, while Bill accidentally started a very joyful conga line of delighted screaming small children behind him.