Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY8M5K04VG2ZAFJJH469EBF

The rain hammered against the corrugated iron roof of the abandoned warehouse, a soundtrack to our increasingly ludicrous plan. Molly traced a finger across the blueprint – a ridiculously detailed schematic of “Princess Sparkle’s Unicorn Extravaganza” held at the community hall. “Right, so the pressure sensors are surprisingly calibrated to the rhythm of a five-year-old’s bouncing,” she said, meticulously highlighting a point with a chewed-up pencil. “We’ll need to time our entry precisely with Little Timmy’s rendition of ‘Happy Birthday.’” Bill, a man built like a slightly deflated rhinoceros, shifted his weight. “And the laser grid? You’re sure it's programmed to register glitter?” “Absolutely. Mrs. Higgins, bless her polyester heart, is obsessed with sparkle. It’s basically a disco for rodents.” Molly tapped the blueprint again. “I’ve factored in the inevitable sugar rush. Everyone anticipates hyperactivity. It's a major variable.” Bill stared at the image of a room brimming with brightly wrapped packages. "Just...a lot of presents, huh?" “A glorious, shimmering mountain of juvenile delight,” Molly confirmed, a disturbing glint in her eye. “Operation Unicorn Loot is a go.”