Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK1448KFM40X5N81VNWR9QK

Molly adjusted her turtleneck, squinting through binoculars at the house. Bill sat in the stolen ice cream truck, eating a melting popsicle dripping onto his vest. He cared less about security. The plan was ridiculous, intel suggested high yield. Switches and LEGO sets lay wrapped in thin paper. Molly lowered the binoculars. Stealing from toddlers weighed on her, rent was due. "Security is light," Bill said quietly, wiping juice from his chin. "It is a clown," Molly replied sharply. "Exactly. Clowns are naturally distracting figures in society." "There are also parents watching," she noted calmly. "Sleeping parents," Bill corrected firmly. "After cake?" "The sugar crash is inevitable and swift." "What about the dogs?" "I have treats." "You planned for canine interference?" "Always plan for the variable." "Is the alarm disabled?" Molly asked urgently. "I jammed the signal," Bill stated casually. "Perfectly?" "Mostly." Molly considered the logic. It was very flawed. She checked her watch. Adults were distracted by wine. Children occupied by screens. This was the window. Bill opened the truck back. He brought a net and a sack marked with a dollar sign. It was cartoonish. Molly sighed and grabbed the sack. The fabric felt cheap. They moved toward the fence, crouching to avoid the watch, an elderly woman walking a pug. "Did you just bribe the dog?" Molly asked quickly. "It is a necessary reconnaissance expense," Bill replied flatly. "We are stealing birthday gifts from children," Molly argued. "Semantics, Molly. Do not overthink the morality," Bill dismissed. "Just get the gate open," Molly ordered. "On it. Quietly," Bill agreed. Bill slipped the latch open. They crept across grass, avoiding sprinklers. The house loomed, vibrating with loud music. Molly felt guilt seeing a tricycle. She pushed it aside. This was business. Bill signaled near the gift table. The pile was magnificent. A mountain of desires. Molly opened the sack. Bill swept boxes into the void. Paper sounded like gunfire. They worked in silence. The table was bare. Molly tied the sack. It was heavy. They retreated. The pug watched. The truck engine softly roared. "This one is heavy," Bill whispered. "It is probably a console," Molly replied. "Do not drop it," Bill warned. "My hands are steady," Molly assured. "We need more cash envelopes," Bill requested. "Check the green wrapping," Molly directed. "Got one," Bill confirmed. "Put it in the sack," Molly ordered. "We are running out of time," Bill noted. "Hear that noise?" Molly asked. "Just the fridge," Bill dismissed. "Move faster," Bill urged. "Last one," Molly stated. "Let us go," Bill agreed. "Did you get the big box?" Bill asked. "Yes," Molly confirmed. "Please." "Now."