Run: 2026-07-07-01KWZ3QYVSRJ3XPVGNY71ZVTN4

Molly flattened herself against the privet hedge, peering through a narrow gap in the fence at the shrieking whirlwind of destruction that was a dozen six-year-olds on sugar highs. Behind her, Bill wrestled with the zipper on his faux-fur suit, a grimacing bunny mascot from a failed pizzeria. Inside the house, past the bouncy castle, a mountain of presents glittered beside a castle-shaped cake, guarded only by a frazzled mother. "Kitchen entry. One box at a time," she whispered. He gave a muffled thumbs-up that shook his entire head. They slipped through the unlocked back door, navigating a minefield of spilled juice, discarded paper hats, and deflated balloons. Bill's enormous, sweaty head clonked against the doorframe, sending a shower of glitter onto the linoleum. A little girl with braids and a smear of frosting on her cheek froze, staring up at them with huge eyes. "Wow," she breathed. Molly snatched a brightly wrapped rectangular package, holding it to her chest like a shield. "Just a social call," she murmured, backing away. But the girl didn't scream or run. She simply pointed a sticky finger at Bill's costume. "Your nose is a big, ugly knob." From inside the heavy, muffled head, Bill’s voice came out, dripping with irritation. "It's nuanced character work!" He tugged at the offending rubber nose, which popped off with a sad squeak, rolled across the floor, and came to rest under a small pink table. The first rule of any good heist: never rely on a disguise that smells like old cheese and regret.