Run: 2026-02-24-01KJ8VFM4DT3347GZ89W3XV7WC

The warehouse loft smelled of dust and discarded dreams, but on the rickety card table, Molly had laid out the blueprint for perfection. Or, at least, a detailed crayon diagram of the Henderson backyard. Bill, a mountain of a man who could crack a safe but not a smile, squinted at the drawing. “This is the primary ingress,” Molly said, tapping a point marked ‘GATE.’ Her finger, adorned with a plastic spider ring from a previous job, moved with precision. “During the peak distraction event.” “The what now?” “The piñata strike, Bill. The moment the donkey’s head is obliterated, twelve sugar-fueled assets will descend into a frenzy. That’s our window. You’ll be here,” she pointed to a shaded area labeled ‘SHRUBBERY – BILL,’ “providing lookout for the primary guardian.” “The dad with the grill spatula?” “The very same. He’s a wild card. Last year, he successfully applied sunscreen to a moving toddler. The man has focus.” Molly adjusted her glasses. “I will proceed to the target zone.” Her finger landed on a picnic table draped with a red-and-white checkered cloth. “The loot will be here. Initial reconnaissance suggests a mix of soft goods and hard plastics. No electronics. It’s a lean year.” Bill scratched his stubble. “What about the secondary guardian? The one with the… vocal projections.” He mimicked a high-pitched voice. “‘Timothy, don’t put sand in the punch!’” “Aunt Cheryl. She’s perimeter security, but her attention is divided. She’s also in charge of the ‘goodie bags,’ which creates a predictable pattern of movement to the gift table for replenishment. We use her.” Bill leaned in, his bulk causing the table to creak. “Extraction?” Molly produced a second, smaller drawing. “The Henderson’s garden shed. It backs onto the alley. We load the goods into these.” She pointed to two objects she’d sketched beside it. “Are those… red wagons?” “High-capacity, all-terrain transport modules. Common backyard asset. Invisible in plain sight. We pull them right out the back gate during the cake-and-singing ritual. Maximum emotional distraction. The mark will be weeping if he doesn’t get the first slice with the blue tractor on it.” Bill was silent for a long moment, studying the crayon topography. “The big pink thing in the corner. That the target?” “That’s the bouncy castle, Bill. It’s a non-factor unless there’s a catastrophic deflation. Then, it becomes a smothering hazard. We’ll have to abort.” He nodded slowly, the gravity of the operation settling on him. “So, we’re stealing toys from a six-year-old.” Molly fixed him with a steely gaze. “We’re acquiring unsecured assets from a low-risk, high-yield environment. The wrapping paper alone is a nightmare of crinkly audio signatures. This is a professional challenge.” She rolled up the diagrams with a swift, decisive motion. “We go in at 3:15. Wear something festive but non-descript. And for God’s sake, don’t step on the squeaky turtle.”