Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK2MHVMDQKD8GP8MAD9T2W6

The warehouse hummed with the low buzz of faulty fluorescents as Molly unfurled the blueprints across a greasy crate. Bill adjusted his tiny clown nose, the red foam squeaking obscenely in the silence. They were not your average felons; their target was the annual Birthday Bash at the community center, a treasure trove of wrapped plastic and sugary delights. Molly traced a finger along the ventilation shaft leading directly above the ball pit. The sheer volume of gift bags demanded precision, not brute force. Bill nodded solemnly, checking his sack made from a repurposed bouncy castle sheet. It stretched ominously under the weight of nothing yet. The plan required them to descend during the cake cutting, a moment of collective distraction when small eyes widened at flaming candles. No alarms would trigger for stolen action figures or board games missing pieces. The air smelled faintly of stale popcorn and desperate ambition. Molly tapped her watch, signaling the approach of zero hour. Bill took a deep breath, the smell of rubber filling his lungs. This was it. The greatest sugar-fueled caper of the decade awaited two adults dressed as oversized fruit. They moved toward the side door, shadows lengthening behind their ridiculous costumes, ready to liberate an entire room of loot from unsuspecting toddlers.