Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ9588F5H9DEGND4803T0BQ2

The air in the cramped room hung thick with the scent of stale coffee and desperation. Molly jabbed a finger at a crudely drawn floor plan taped precariously to peeling wallpaper, depicting not a vault, but what appeared to be a child's playroom. A half-eaten pizza box teetered on a stack of stolen garden gnomes. Bill, meanwhile, was intently examining a loose thread on his neon yellow shorts, a garment that screamed 'disguise' only if the disguise was 'future embarrassing dad'. "Alright, Bill. Phase one: Infiltration. The target is little Timmy’s seventh birthday party. Standard suburban layout. Access point Alpha is the suspiciously unlocked back patio door." Molly spoke with the crisp efficiency of someone planning a lunar landing, not a petty crime at a toddler's bash. Bill: "The one with the gnome that looks like it’s judging you?" Molly: "It's a garden ornament, Bill, not a sentient sentinel. Once inside, we bypass the 'Fortress of Lego' in the hallway – that’s the main traffic zone. Your objective is the gift-laden table in the dining room." Bill: "So, like, I just... walk in and grab 'em? Do I need a sack?" Molly: "No, Bill! This isn't some smash-and-grab at a pawn shop. This is precision. We need to be invisible. Think 'ninjas, but with better snacks.' You’ll wear the pastel disguise I got you." Bill: "These bright yellow shorts and the shirt with the singing hotdog? I feel less like a ninja and more like a walking cautionary tale." Molly: "It’s camouflage, Bill. For a children’s party. Nobody expects a guest dressed as a fruit salad enthusiast to be a master thief. Now, the primary objective is the main haul – that big pile near the cake. I estimate thirty to forty packages, varying sizes. Some have to be bikes, judging by the volume." Bill: "Ooh, bikes! Can I pick the colour? What if one of them is a robot dog? Or a science kit on nuclear fusion?" Molly: "No checking! We grab, we go. The secondary objective is the ‘consolation prizes’ – those little goodie bags. They usually contain stickers and slightly-too-small bouncy balls. Useful for distraction, or selling on the dark web for chump change." Bill: "The dark web sells goodie bags now? That's… depressing. Do they have those temporary tattoos with the glitter?" Molly: "Focus, Bill! Our exit strategy is crucial. We’ll use the front door, blending back into the flow of departing guests. I’ve programmed the getaway vehicle – Mrs. Henderson’s minivan; she’s asleep after her sherry – to sound its horn precisely at 3:47 PM, signalling the optimal moment for our extraction." Bill: "And the cake? Is there a cake diversion plan? Because that fudge icing looks dangerously appealing. And the sprinkles..." Molly: "There is no 'cake diversion plan,' Bill! You are not to ingest any primary objectives or diversionary snacks. Your mouth is for silence and breathing, not cake." Bill: "But the chocolate fountain! It’s a *fountain*, Molly! It calls to me. It sings a siren song of sugary doom." Molly: "The sugar rush defence system is their greatest weapon. Unpredictable, chaotic. If you taste the chocolate, you’ll start doing the 'funky chicken' and blow our cover. Stick to the plan. Gifts, goodie bags, gone. No hotdogs, no cake. Got it?" Bill: "So... no 'happy birthday' song either? Or blowing out candles? That looks like fun. I like fire." Molly: "Only the ones we plan to steal. Now, let's review the blueprints for the bouncy castle's structural integrity. It's surprisingly complex, apparently powered by three AA batteries."