Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ95E1GP8MZ34EEYZGVZNNJP

Molly adjusted her night-vision goggles, though it was high noon and the suburban sun glared off the bouncy castle. Beside her, Bill checked the tension on his grappling hook, which was currently hooked to a stationary lawn gnome. They sat in a nondescript minivan filled with juice boxes and tactical blueprints sketched in crayon. The target was formidable: little Timmy’s seventh birthday bash. Security was tight, mostly consisting of a tired clown and an elderly golden retriever. Molly tapped a diagram of the gift table, her face a mask of professional intensity. "Look, the Lego Death Star is definitely our primary objective," she whispered urgently. Bill nodded, sweating under his black wool balaclava despite the eighty-degree heat. "I will distract that magician with my actual pocket sand," he replied, checking his stopwatch with trembling fingers. The stakes were high; if they failed, they would face the ultimate humiliation of being outsmarted by a group of toddlers high on sugar. Molly adjusted her earbud, which was actually a disconnected piece of plastic she found. It was time to move. They checked their watches for the final strike and prepared to breach the perimeter of the suburban backyard where cake-fueled mayhem reigned.