Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ9587WSPQYSPQJ1EHYR3MW0

Molly tapped a manicured nail against the laminated blueprints, a map distinctly unsettling in its innocence: a suburban backyard, dominated by an enormous bouncy castle. From the cramped confines of their usual ops room, a dusty attic space above a forgotten bakery, the plan felt particularly surreal. Bill, meanwhile, practically vibrated with excitement, gesturing wildly with a half-eaten jelly doughnut towards various hand-drawn X-marks on the glossy paper. He treated this target with the same gravity usually reserved for state treasuries, a fact Molly found increasingly alarming. "Are you serious, Bill? A bouncy castle party?" Molly deadpanned, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. Bill beamed, crumbs clinging to his chin like tiny, sugary barnacles. "High-value target, Molly! Think of the haul: consoles, pricey LEGO. Barnaby Hastings: the Bezos of pre-school. His parents are loaded. Intelligence suggests a new-gen console already wrapped and stashed near the cake stand, Prime real estate." He pointed with his doughnut, nearly smearing jam across the 'snack station' on the map. Molly sighed, adjusting the elaborate floral scarf masking the intricate array of lock-picking tools strapped to her wrist. Her partner was a master of his craft, but his enthusiasm often outstripped his common sense. "So your genius plan has us infiltrating a toddler dance-off, dressed as a clown and a unicorn, to steal plastic fire trucks?" "Clown and unicorn for infiltration, yes. Total disarming presence. Nobody suspects a unicorn. It's practically invisible! And the 'fire trucks' are merely cover. We're after the console, the big score, the legendary 'PlayStation 6'!" Bill insisted, pulling a shimmering, iridescent unicorn headpiece from a duffel bag and placing it with reverence on the worn wooden table, next to their usual arsenal of night vision goggles and thermal scanners. She stared at the horn, a gleaming plastic menace, then back at the crude drawings. "Nobody suspects a grown woman sweating profusely in a polyester horn helmet trying to pick a lock on a toy chest, either? What about the actual kids? The screaming? The snot?" Bill waved a dismissive hand, nearly knocking over a carefully constructed miniature model of the bouncy castle made from sugar cubes and pipe cleaners. "Minor tactical hazards. We deploy the 'Sleeping Cloud' via ventilation – perfectly safe, non-toxic, strawberry-scented. They’ll just think it’s a lovely afternoon nap. Swift and silent extraction, like a well-oiled machine." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose, fighting the urge to tell him the machine was likely coated in glitter and jam. Of course it was strawberry-scented. This was going to be an operation for the ages, if only for the sheer, unadulterated absurdity of it all. Still, a job was a job, and a new-gen console for their fence certainly paid better than, say, a year's supply of Duplo bricks. She glanced at the garish unicorn headpiece. This would require more gin than usual, and perhaps a highly advanced decontamination shower afterwards.