Run: 2026-02-25-01KJBJAKAZRS8SCS59X4VVYW5R

Molly adjusted her balaclava, squinting at the laminated blueprints spread across the dusty van dashboard. The fluorescent light flickered ominously above them. "It's a birthday party," she said, tapping the paper. "For a six-year-old." Bill polished his lockpick set, ignoring the stale crumbs on the seat. "The presents are unguarded. Just balloons and cake." He looked up, eyes gleaming with greed. "We're stealing from children?" Molly asked, raising an eyebrow. "Technically, parents," Bill corrected, sliding a tool away. "Parents bought them." He checked the watch on his wrist. "The clown arrives at three." "What if the clown is a cop?" Molly whispered, leaning closer. Bill laughed softly. "It's a clown, Molly. They're all undercover." He tossed her a grappling hook. "We go in during the piñata. Chaos is our friend." "I hate piñatas," she muttered, catching the metal. "Sugar rush makes people unpredictable." Bill grinned wickedly. "Exactly. Grab the Lego set. I'll take the bike." "That's a tricycle," she noted, frowning. "It's a hybrid," he insisted. "Goal is loot, not logistics." Molly sighed, checking her leather gloves. "Fine. But if we get caught, I'm blaming the clown." "Deal," Bill said. They stood ready. The heist was on.