Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK1C2DS700FTKYWSZG88BJH

The rain hammered against the corrugated iron roof of the warehouse, drowning out the distant hum of city traffic. Molly adjusted her black balaclava, which was slightly too large and kept slipping over her eyes, while Bill nervously checked his lockpicking set for the third time. They crouched behind a stack of empty cardboard boxes, staring at the brightly lit community hall across the street.streamers fluttered in the wind like colorful flags of surrender. "We are literally about to rob a six-year-old's birthday party," Bill whispered, his voice cracking with moral uncertainty. "This is rock bottom, Mol. Even for us." "Stop whining and look at the loot," Molly hissed, pointing a gloved finger at the towering pyramid of wrapped boxes near the entrance. "Do you see that? That is not just cardboard and tape. That is Lego sets, remote control cars, and enough sugar to kill a horse. It is a goldmine." "It is a nursery school crime scene waiting to happen," Bill argued, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "What if there are clowns? I hate clowns. They know things." "There are no clowns. The invitation said 'Superhero Theme.' Which means the parents will be drunk on punch and the kids will be running around in capes. Perfect cover." "Perfect cover for getting beaten up by a four-year-old with a plastic lightsaber," Bill muttered. "I can see the headlines now. 'Career Criminals Defeated by Toddlers.' Our reputations will be ruined." "Our reputations are already shot, Bill. Remember the petting zoo incident?" "That was different. The alpacas were aggressive." "Focus," Molly commanded, pulling out a crude map drawn on a napkin. "Here is the plan. We go in through the side door during the cake cutting. Everyone sings, everyone closes their eyes to make a wish. That is our window. Thirty seconds max." "Thirty seconds to grab fifty presents? Do the math, Molly. That is less than a second per box." "We don't take them one by one. We take the whole table. Or we bring the sack. The big sack." "The big sack makes us look like Santa Claus if we get caught. Which we will. Because children have no concept of personal space and they will swarm us." "Then we wear the costumes. We blend in. You be Batman, I'll be Wonder Woman." "I am not wearing tights. My legs are pale and hairy." "Stop complaining. Think of the payday. Those limited edition action figures alone are worth a fortune on the black market. Collectors are desperate." "Collectors are weird adults who want toys meant for children. We are weird adults stealing toys meant for children. It is a circle of weirdness." "Are you in or out?" Molly asked, standing up and brushing dust off her knees. "Because if you are out, I am taking the whole haul and you get nothing but the memory of your cowardice." Bill sighed, a long, defeated sound that seemed to deflate his entire body. He stood up and adjusted his utility belt, which held nothing but gum and a spare house key. "Fine. But if a toddler cries, I am leaving. Immediately. No matter how much loot is left." "Deal. Now put on your mask and try to look heroic." "I look like a depressed burglar," Bill grumbled as they sprinted across the wet street toward the flashing lights and the sound of happy children singing off-key. "This is definitely going to end in tears. Probably mine."