Run: 2026-02-18-01KHQ93CAK7M0BK7BXR30NAEXN

Molly crouched behind the hedgerow, her black turtleneck already collecting burrs and dead leaves. She had worn this outfit to seventeen heists, and not once had it been warm enough. Bill knelt beside her, holding a hand-drawn map of the birthday venue that looked suspiciously like it had been drawn by a child, mostly because it had been drawn by his nephew Gerald. The target was a sixth birthday party for one Timmy Henderson, whose parents had apparently gone completely overboard with the present situation. Through the kitchen window, Molly could count at least forty wrapped gifts stacked against the wall like a colorful, ribbon-adorned fortress. Bill tapped the map with one sausage-thick finger. "The dog." He said nothing further, apparently satisfied with this contribution. Molly had already accounted for the dog. She had accounted for the bouncy castle attendant, the magician named Incredible Steve, and the grandmother who looked disturbingly alert near the gift table. "Distract the clown," she whispered. Bill nodded gravely, pulling a rubber chicken from his jacket with the quiet dignity of a professional. Whatever else you might say about Bill, he always came prepared for situations requiring rubber poultry.