Run: 2026-09-01-01M1EM6072H8YE1NF537B5ED00

Bill tugged his ski mask over his eyes and frowned at the glittering yard signs, noting the bounce castle and a silver tray of juice boxes. "Molly, stealing from children violates human decency," he said. Molly slid behind a lawn gnome, consulting a crumpled map covered in cupcake crumbs and glitter. "Bill, it's humanitarian service," she said. "They have too many toys." "We're targeting a birthday bash with a clown named Festus?" Bill asked, adjusting his shoulder bag that read "Party Supplies" in purple marker. "Festus owes me. We enter through the garage, disable juice-box surveillance—" Molly said. "By drinking the juice?" "Exactly. We intercept presents during the cake cutting." Bill glanced through the window at small voices singing off-key near a piñata shaped like a birthday cake. "What if they notice us?" "We say we're inspectors for the Ministry of Sugar," Molly replied. "Hand me the sack. The piñata is in forty-five minutes." "If a child stares at us with innocent eyes, you talk," Bill said. "Deal. If they ask about the bag, it's a magic trick." "We're bad at magic." "Good at regret." Bill muttered, staring at the balloon arch that seemed to guard the door like a festive moat. "I should have been a dentist." Molly smirked, adjusting her sunglasses that seemed too cool for a children's party heist. "Too late. The presents await."