Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ94T4BFYP7WZHK3V3GQRS3E

Molly’s polished finger tapped a crayon-scribbled diagram, a faint sheen of grease from a forgotten doughnut still clinging to her nail. The blueprints for "Sir Reginald's Magical Medieval Extravaganza" were spread across the dented metal table. Bill, slouched opposite her, chewed on a suspiciously clean pen. "Are you absolutely serious about this, Bill?" Molly asked, her voice a low growl of incredulity. "A bouncy castle perimeter? For a nine-year-old's birthday?" "It's a tactical nightmare, Molly, I know. Think of the shrieking children. But the intel is clear: 'Princess Sparklehoof and her Enchanted Carriage' is the prime present location." Molly rubbed her temples, a familiar headache brewing. This wasn't exactly their usual high-stakes art gallery job. "We're stealing from a child with a pony, Bill. A pony named Princess Sparklehoof, no less." "The pony isn’t the target," Bill insisted, "the presents are. High-value plastic, collectible action figures, the works. And the challenge! That bouncy castle will be legendary." A cold gust of wind rattled their grimy window, making the absurd blueprint flutter. The diagram showed cartoon castles and a "lava pit" near the "loot cavern." "And the parents? Our primary security is a swarm of highly protective, potentially wine-spiked adults. Plus Sir Reginald’s 'Dragon Flyer' drone has thermal imaging. We need a diversion that grounds that thing." "A smoke bomb," Bill suggested, his eyes brightening. "Disguised as a cake explosion. Blinds the drone, confuses the parents." "No glitter bombs, Bill. We’re thieves, not party poopers. What about the 'Dragon' mascot? The teenager in the costume?" "Gary? He's in. Fifty quid, and he won't sing 'Happy Birthday' again. Says it crushes his soul." Molly sighed, marking the 'Dragon' with a check. It was always the simple-minded muscle that kept things moving. She moved her finger to a crudely drawn figure labeled 'Aunt Hilda'. "Aunt Hilda, present-guarding duty?" Molly inquired. "The fuchsia-hatted knitting enthusiast?" "The very same. Obsessed with competitive crochet. We send a rare yarn swatch of 'The Weaver's Anguish'. Timed delivery. That’ll tie her up. Literally." "Excellent. Access point? Kitchen window, still unlocked for 'wizard duels'?" "Confirmed. They take their pretend very seriously. And egress? Not the treehouse zip line, please." "No drama. Quiet out the kitchen window, with sacks of high-value plastic. And Bill, packaging for the unboxing videos. These kids are merciless critics." Molly leaned back, a predatory grin growing. For a children’s party, this was proving to be a surprisingly intricate, and deeply silly, operation. "Details, Molly. Details make the difference." "Right. So, summary: smoke bomb to distract, bribe Gary, yarn-bomb Aunt Hilda, secure presents, egress quietly." "And avoid the glitter, Molly. Always, always avoid the glitter." Bill nodded, a wide, enthusiastic grin on his face. Molly just shook her head.