Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ956MQBWM22EJH51KKBAMDT

Molly adjusted her night-vision goggles, though the afternoon sun was blindingly bright. Beside her, Bill struggled to zip a tactical jumpsuit over his vibrant Hawaiian shirt. They lurked behind a manicured boxwood hedge, watching a bouncy castle inflate with the rhythmic puffing of a dying mechanical lung. The target was a magnificent pile of glitter-wrapped bounty atop a folding table, currently guarded by a lethargic teenager in a stained bunny suit. Molly consulted her master map, which was mostly a series of jagged circles labeled "The Pit of Despair" and "Marshmallow Bog." The air smelled of cheap strawberry icing and impending tactical chaos. "The perimeter is soft, but the target zone is fortified by sticky fingers," Molly whispered. Bill shook his head. "I hate clowns." "Focus, Bill. Move out!" she hissed. The birthday song began, a discordant wall of sound signaling their window of entry. Thousands of calories of pure glucose were about to be consumed, turning the guests into a feral distraction. If they moved now, they could bypass the toddler patrol before the inevitable nap-time crash. Molly signaled the advance, keeping low as a rogue balloon hovered ominously overhead, threatening to reveal their location to the sugar-crazed masses.