Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK1P6YQVRNHNNWJZ0PS1YMC

The rain hammered against the tin roof of the abandoned laundromat, drowning out the distant wail of a siren. Molly paced back and forth across the sticky floor, her boots leaving wet prints that vanished almost instantly in the grime. She stopped abruptly and turned to face Bill, who was currently trying to fix a zip tie onto a plastic spork. "Stop playing with the cutlery, Bill, we have a job to do," Molly snapped, her voice tight with the kind of stress that only comes from planning a felony against toddlers. Bill looked up, blinking slowly behind his thick glasses. "It is not just cutlery, Molls. It is a prototype. A silent entry tool for cake consumption." "We are not eating the cake," she said, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "We are stealing the loot. The presents. The gold mine wrapped in cartoon paper." "But the cake is right there," Bill argued, pointing at a blurry photo taped to the wall. "And the piñata. Think of the candy density." Molly walked over and ripped the photo off the wall, waving it in his face. "Focus! Look at the target. It is a six-year-old's birthday bash at the community center. Security is tight, but the perimeter is weak. They will have a clown, Bill. A literal clown." "I hate clowns," Bill muttered, going back to his spork. "Their shoes are too big. It is unnatural." "Exactly," Molly said, her eyes gleaming with a manic intensity. "While everyone is distracted by the balloon animals and the terrifying face paint, we slip in through the ventilation shaft above the bounce house." "The bounce house?" Bill asked, finally looking interested. "Is it structural? Can we bounce?" "No bouncing!" Molly shouted, her voice cracking slightly. "We are ghosts. Silent, invisible ghosts who take wrapped boxes and leave nothing but confusion and crying children." "That sounds mean," Bill said softly, frowning. "They are just little humans. Maybe we should only take half?" Molly grabbed Bill by the shoulders and shook him gently. "Listen to me. We need the money. The rent is due, the getaway van needs new tires, and I really want that espresso machine. We take everything. We take the stuffed animals, the LEGOs, the gift cards, and yes, even the weird sock puppets." "What about the card from Grandma?" Bill asked, his voice trembling slightly. "That has sentimental value." "Grandma does not need that twenty dollars more than we do," Molly declared, releasing him. "Now, do you have the map?" Bill reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled napkin with crayon drawings on it. "I drew it during lunch. The red line is the path, and the blue squiggles are the juice boxes." Molly stared at the napkin for a long moment, then took a deep breath. "Fine. The blue squiggles are avoidable. We go in at 1400 hours, right when the magic show starts. The magician will distract them with a rabbit, and we will distract them by becoming the richest thieves in the city." "And if we get caught?" Bill asked, tucking the napkin away carefully. "Then we say we are the entertainment," Molly said with a straight face. "We will tell them we are the surprise gift. Now grab your gear. We leave in ten." "Do I bring the spork?" "Yes, Bill. Bring the spork."