Run: 2026-02-19-01KHVPHJPWEQAVCGEYZE2RWEM8

Bill adjusted his tactical binoculars and peered through the windshield of the rusted surveillance van. Across the street, a massive green dragon dominated a manicured suburban lawn. A terrible shrieking noise pierced the tranquil neighborhood air as twenty kids chased a depressed teenager trapped inside a sweating dog costume. Molly slammed a large blueprint onto the dashboard, scattering several stale french fries across the steering wheel. She adjusted her dark leather gloves and tapped a red circle drawn over a patio table. "What is the current status of the asset?" Bill lowered the binoculars and wiped an onion ring crumb from his chin. He tapped a finger against the greasy window glass. "The mountain of wrapping paper is behind the punch bowl. We have a path if we bypass the candy station." Molly nodded slowly, her expression as serious as a heart attack. She unzipped a duffel bag to reveal ropes, grappling hooks, and a very large canvas sack with a dollar sign painted onto the thick fabric. "And the secondary security detail?" Bill squinted through the lenses again. He watched a man in oversized yellow shoes trip over a lawn hose. "You mean the tired clown making balloon animals?" Molly grabbed the collar of his stealth turtleneck. Her eyes burned with intense professionalism. "Do not underestimate him. I saw him swallow a sword at the county fair last year. He has completely neutralized his gag reflex. He is basically a lethal weapon." Swallowing nervously, Bill checked the heavy black utility belt strapped tightly around his waist. It currently held three miniature smoke bombs, a professional set of tungsten lock picks, two spare carabiners, and a partially flattened fruit juice box for emergency hydration. "I will keep an eye on the clown. But how do we transport the stolen loot past the parents?" Molly pulled a silver dart from her pocket. The tip gleamed dangerously in the sunlight filtering through the dirty windshield. "We utilize the classic distraction protocol." Bill looked at the yard, then back at the sharp object in her hand. "You want me to pop the huge inflatable dragon?" Molly flashed a predatory grin that sent a shiver down his spine. She twirled the dart effortlessly between her fingers. "Exactly. While they mourn the deflated beast, we slide in, secure the little blocks, bag the figures, and vanish into the afternoon." He sighed heavily, mentally questioning every life choice that had led him to an elaborate stakeout of a noisy seventh birthday party. "Stealing from children feels slightly beneath our usual standard." She opened the van door with a quiet squeak. The sounds of childish laughter drifted toward them like a challenge. "A job is a job. I heard the boy got a new video game console." Hearing that compelling piece of information, Bill immediately set aside his doubts. He reached into the backseat, grabbed his ski mask, and prepared to commence the most ruthless playground operation of his entire criminal career. The heist was officially on.