Run: 2026-02-19-01KHVPHX4K8CW1ZA9MMTXE0XP8

The surveillance van smelled strongly of stale potato chips and cheap latex. Molly adjusted her binoculars, staring through the tinted windshield at the sprawling suburban lawn across the street. A gigantic inflatable castle dominated the yard, trembling beneath the weight of a dozen hyperactive children. Bill sat in the passenger seat, sweating profusely in his oversized rented clown suit. He poked at a wildly inaccurate blueprint Molly had drawn on a greasy napkin. Here was the target. Timmy Henderson. Age eight. Heir to a mountain of brightly wrapped boxes sitting defenseless on a patio table. "I still do not understand why I have to wear these ridiculous, oversized, obnoxiously squeaky clown shoes." Bill shifted his weight, causing an agonizing rubbery screech to echo off the metal walls of their getaway vehicle. He scratched at his bright red foam nose and aggressively adjusted his polka dot suspenders. Molly did not lower her binoculars as she violently shushed him. "Because you are the primary distraction. You go in, twist some pink balloons into questionable animals, and keep those frantic, sticky little monsters completely busy." She pointed a flashlight at the greasy napkin, highlighting a blotch of ketchup that represented the gift table. "While you do that, I bypass the slumbering grandfather, infiltrate the wooden gazebo, and secure the package." Bill scoffed, crossing his massive arms and nearly popping a button off his oversized yellow vest. He glared at the suburban fortress, completely baffled by the tactical genius of his partner. "The package is a massive mound of loose Legos and a gigantic remote control monster truck. How are you going to carry all that out naturally?" Molly finally lowered her binoculars and reached into the back of the van. She pulled out an absurdly large, spectacularly garish canvas sack adorned with cartoon ponies. It was a masterpiece of suburban camouflage, guaranteed to blend in perfectly amidst the chaotic debris of a frantic birthday celebration. She patted the monstrous bag with pure professional pride. "I am going to cheerfully walk right out the front gate looking like an exhausted aunt carrying presents to the minivan. It is the perfect crime." A sudden explosion of cheering erupted from across the street. A blindfolded child was ruthlessly beating a paper donkey with a baseball bat, sending a shower of cheap candy raining down upon the manic lawn. The chaos had reached its absolute peak, signaling their window of opportunity. Molly checked her tactical stopwatch. "Clock is ticking. Do you remember the extraction signal?" Bill sighed, honking his foam nose with a look of utter defeat. "I have to scream terribly and pretend to faint directly into the birthday frosting." Molly grinned, slipping a lockpick into her pocket. "Exactly. Now get out there and make them laugh." The heavy van door slid open, spilling a giant sad clown onto the pavement. "Frankly, this is a very terrible idea." Molly ignored him completely, entirely focused on the mountain of stolen loot that awaited beneath the wooden gazebo.