Run: 2026-03-03-01KJTZP8Z0X93VP9GFRZMMHS3M

Molly adjusted her neon tutu, the fabric scratching against her tactical vest as she peered over the suburban hedge. Bill sat beside her, sweating profusely while struggling to fit his bulk inside a giant plush dog costume. Bill whispered, Is this really necessary? I feel like a fluffy prison target. Molly rolled her eyes and shoved a walkie-talkie into his paw. Stop whining, Bill. The target is sitting on a velvet chair surrounded by gold-wrapped glory. But it is a six-year-old birthday bash, Bill hissed, adjusting his oversized foam ears. We are professional cat burglars, not gift-snatching scavengers. We steal jewels, not glittery plastic art sets. Molly tapped her earbud, silencing his moral uprising. Those gifts are wrapped in premium foil, and that unicorn drone is worth three grand on the black market. Would a scavenger have a laser cutter disguised as a bubble machine? Bill sighed, watching the clown juggle nearby. No, I suppose not. But if I get hit in the face with a cake, I am retiring. Molly checked her watch and gave the signal. Shut up, keep your tail straight, and grab the big boxes first. We have exactly four minutes of clown distraction left.