Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ94PQR8VFHZ6F67S7JWK31F

Molly gripped the steering wheel of the rusted transit van. Outside, the target was heavily decorated with multicolored bunting and a perimeter of sticky juice boxes. Did you bring the tactical gear, Bill? We need to be ready for the cake rush. Bill rummaged through a duffel bag filled with neon-green distractions. He pulled out a pair of foam ears and a squeaky hammer. I got the slippers and the diversion device. Do you think the security guard will notice us? He honked the hammer twice. Molly pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled a long, shaky breath. It is a seven-year-old birthday party, Bill. The only security guard is a golden retriever named Barnaby. She pointed at a laminated map of the Robinson backyard. A red X marked the gift table near the patio. The dog is trained in licking. He will be neutralized with these premium organic beef jerky strips. Bill squinted at the map while chewing on a piece of stolen licorice he found in the tray. I heard there is a Mega-Robot 3000 in there. That is worth eighty bucks on the black market. Molly checked her watch. The cake-cutting ceremony was imminent, signaling the start of the chaotic phase. Once the sugar high hits and the screaming starts, we move. It is our only window of chaos. She checked her reflection in the mirror, adjusting her dinosaur-themed camouflage shirt and reflecting on the gravity of the loot. Do I look more like a concerned uncle or a freelance magician hired for the afternoon? Bill leaned over to inspect her. He wiped a smear of leftover chocolate frosting from his chin. Definitely a magician. You have that suspicious look. Are you sure about the back door being unlocked? A scream erupted from the backyard as fifteen toddlers engaged in tactical combat inside the inflatable structure. It is starting. Get the burlap sack. Make sure it is the one without the giant holes. Bill fumbled with the sliding door, nearly tripping over a stack of juice boxes from a previous mission. Are we sure about the exit? The driveway is blocked by a very large pony trailer. Molly shifted the van into gear, eyes fixed on the brightly wrapped boxes sitting on the lawn. We go through the hedge and into the neighbor yard. It is a foolproof escape route. She handed him binoculars. A clown was currently making balloon animals near the white picket fence. The clown is a wild card, Bill. Watch his hands. He might be packing a hidden water flower. Bill peered through the lenses. He gasped at the sight of several pepperoni pizzas being delivered. If we grab the Lego sets, can we take a couple of slices of thin-crust pizza? Molly sighed and shoved a tactical juice box into her pocket while giving the suburban landscape a sideways glance. Focus, Bill. This is the heist of the century. We want the plastic, not the pepperoni. She pulled a silk stocking over her head, though the effect was ruined by her attached cat ears. Let us go. Try not to get distracted by the bounce house like you did in Peoria. They stepped out of the van, disappearing into the shadows of a giant inflatable dragon. The dragon is the signal. When it deflates, we run like the wind. Just check the side pocket for the markers and the extra labels. We must be professionals.