Run: 2026-02-16-01KHM5GY5THD4FPNN41M1J7Z86

The stale air of the van was thick with the scent of old coffee and desperation. Molly tapped a crayon-drawn map of the McAllister residence with grim finality. "Target is a seven-year-old named Timmy. The haul is a mountain of brightly coloured boxes currently residing under a 'Happy Birthday' banner in the den." Bill, peering through binoculars at the house, lowered them slowly. "Right. Den. Okay. But Molly, the perimeter is swarming with tiny, sugar-fueled hostiles. And a clown. A very sad-looking clown." "He's the diversion," Molly insisted, circling the clown's position on the lawn. "His name is Bubbles. You create a minor disturbance with the balloon animals—pretend to have a moral crisis—and I slip in through the patio doors." "A moral crisis? Molly, he's a clown. He probably has one every Tuesday." Bill sighed Bill. "And what's the exit strategy?" Molly smiled, holding up a small, foil-wrapped object. "The piñata. We grab the loot, whack the donkey, and escape in the ensuing candy-fueled chaos." Bill stared at the candy-filled donkey, then back at the house where a group of children were now vigorously assaulting it with a plastic bat. "You know," he said, "for a den of thieves, we've hit a new low." "It's not a low, Bill," Molly said, pulling a black beanie over her head. "It's a strategic repositioning in an undervalued market. Now, go upset the clown."