Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ95EWPPGJZ9145TB06DM8GM

Molly flattened herself against the side of a decidedly unglamorous garden shed, peering through a crack in the rotten wood. Inside the brightly decorated marquee, the shrieks of sugar-crazed children were reaching a fever pitch, a symphony of impending disappointment. Presents, a veritable blizzard of bows and ribbons, were piled high on a trestle table, practically vibrating with their inherent promise of toys. This was the Big One. Bill, currently hiding behind a frankly terrifying clown statue whose painted smile had morphed into a sinister leer, adjusted his ill-fitting tweed jacket. Their reputation as connoisseurs of inconveniently acquired goods depended on this. "See the loot?" Bill whispered. "Affirmative. And the guards?" "Just a very tired nanny, currently contemplating retirement." Molly smiled, a predatory flash. "Perfect. Let's move." The plan was simple: a quick distraction, a silent snatch, and an even swifter escape, leaving only the faint echo of shattered dreams and perhaps a solitary, misplaced squeaky toy. They were professionals, after all, just extremely ethically flexible ones, operating under the cover of excessive pastel primary colours.