Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK12NYQCGGXWB27005AS2R1

Molly adjusted the heavy night-vision goggles while Bill chewed slowly on a stale crust of bread. Outside, the suburban house glowed warmly with colorful string lights. The moon was hidden behind thick clouds above the roof. Streetlights flickered above the parked vehicle silently. Shadows danced across the dashboard instruments slowly. Are you absolutely sure about this specific target? Bill asked, letting crumbs fall onto his hairy chest. It is absolutely perfect. Look closely at those wraps. Gold foil. Thick ribbons. High value items. We sell them online. They are specifically for six-year-olds, Molly. We are professionally stealing from toddlers. They won't remember anything tomorrow. They are unsecured assets, she corrected sharply. Unsecured assets sitting directly under a plastic tree. It is a fortress of solitude. Bill sighed loudly and wiped his greasy hands on his faded jeans. He looked out the dirty window at the bouncing castle inflating slowly in the yard. Bill wiped sweat from his forehead nervously. The security is surprisingly tight. That clown is watching everything very closely. The red shoes were oversized and squeaked on the pavement. Clowns are distracted very easily, Molly replied. Give him a complex balloon animal. He will chase it blindly. Then we slip past quietly. This feels morally wrong. Like stealing candy from a baby, but physically harder. Risk versus reward calculations are necessary. Molly rolled her eyes and unfolded a detailed map of the living room floor plan. She traced a red line from the window to the gift table. Molly checked the lock on the side door twice. We go in through the small doggy door, she instructed. The dog is a golden retriever. Friendly. Easily bribed with high quality bacon. Imported bacon. Bacon? Bill asked. Yes. High quality bacon. Not the cheap synthetic stuff. It costs more money. She threw a package of smoked streaky bacon onto the dash. That smells like money, Bill noted. Bill leaned back in the driver seat and rubbed his tired temples. Silence filled the parked vehicle completely. What if the parents wake up suddenly? he asked nervously. They will be exhausted from hosting, Molly said confidently. Sugar crashes are real. They will be out cold by nine. Perfect timing. And the loot? We just grab the bags? We grab the bags. We leave the cards. Cash is too hot to move. Clean and quick. We need a clean exit strategy, Molly stated firmly. She tapped the map twice for emphasis. What about the remote control cars? Bill asked. Too bulky. Stick to the boxes, she said. Understood. I have the getaway car ready, Bill replied. Do not crash this time, she warned him. I promise no crashes today, Bill swore oath. Bill looked at the house again. A child screamed with joy inside. He felt a pang of guilt in his stomach. Just do it. We are monsters, he whispered sadly. We are professionals, Molly said, checking her expensive watch. Now eat your crust. We move in ten. Ready. Good. Drive fast, Molly ordered loudly. Bill took a bite and watched the clown trip over a hose. Okay. But I get the Lego sets. he said finally. I want the big one. Deal. Molly said, starting the engine. Go. The van rolled forward into the darkness. The engine hummed quietly as they disappeared into the night.