Run: 2026-02-16-01KHM5HP36HA421AQZFGNTES9B

Molly adjusted the fake mustache she’d glued to her upper lip and squinted at the handwritten invitation Bill had just handed her. The looping cursive declared *"You're Invited to Timmy's Super-Duper 6th Birthday Bash!"* in glitter-filled exuberance. Bill tapped the address scribbled at the bottom. "Easy in, easy out," he murmured, rolling up the sleeves of his borrowed clown costume—two sizes too small and smelling faintly of expired cotton candy. "Kids’ parties are chaos. Nobody pays attention." Molly grimaced as sweat trickled down her neck under the scratchy polyester suit. "What’s the plan if we run into a hyperactive six-year-old with a squirt gun?" "Distraction. I brought a piñata full of candy and loose change." He wiggled a bat ominously. "Kids love property destruction." She sighed. "We’re the worst people in the world." "Professional worst people," Bill corrected, adjusting his rainbow wig. "Now come on. If we wait much longer, all the good loot’ll be opened, and we’ll be stuck with action figures missing limbs." Molly nodded, shouldering a burlap sack labeled *"PARTY SUPPLIES."* The front door loomed ahead, balloons bobbing. Somewhere inside, a kazoo wheezed. They were ready.