Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ95W4BGPB93406VWPJN63JY

Molly adjusted her tactical goggles, which were currently resting on top of her purple tutu. They were parked in a stolen ice cream truck two blocks away from the suburban birthday massacre. She unfurled a blueprint drawn in scented markers. Bill was struggling to fit his massive frame into a tiny clown suit, his face paint already smearing into a terrifying grimace. The objective was the stack of bright boxes currently guarded by a hyperactive golden retriever and a dozen manic toddlers. It was a perilous operation involving bouncy castle acoustics and the strategic deployment of glitter bombs. Molly tapped the sunroom. "The cake is a distraction, so we enter via the ball pit." Molly whispered, checking her tactical stopwatch. Bill grunted, yanking a squeaky red nose over his nostrils. He checked the magazine of his bubble gun, ensuring it was fully loaded with thick solution. "I hate these clowns; this wig is very itchy." Bill muttered, his voice muffled by latex. They shared a grim nod. The mission parameters were clear: infiltrate the playroom, bypass the juice box barricades, and extract the premium LEGO sets before the magician finished. It was their biggest score since the preschool snack job.