Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD7451P7TBPCXR99WW7ZHCA

Molly spread the crayon-drawn map across the stolen getaway tricycle's seat, squinting at the fortress marked BIRTHDAY. Bill wore a hastily taped fake mustache that kept falling into his juice box. The target was little Timmy's backyard bonanza, a mountain of badly wrapped presents guarded by inflatable dinosaurs, hyperactive seven-year-olds hopped on cake, and one terrifying mother with a whistle. Bill's master plan involved dressing as clowns, which Molly hated because last time the shoes squeaked and gave them away during the aquarium job. "We're not clowns again. We're magicians," she whispered. Bill frowned, adjusting his mustache. "Magicians need rabbits. Clowns need nothing?" Molly rolled her eyes and pointed to the side entrance near the trampoline, explaining how they'd crawl through the ball pit to reach present table undetected. Bill nodded seriously, then popped the pit, vanishing under a sea of plastic. Only his mustache floated up like a distress signal. Molly sighed, realizing the heist depended on a man currently drowning in primary colors while children cheered, oblivious to the criminal masterminds infiltrating their sugar-fueled paradise. Then Bill surfaced, gasping. "Molly, help! I found Legos!" She muttered "Retirement starts now" and grabbed his hand before security mom noticed them