Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK23AZNNFAQX5SKZN8TG847

The surveillance van smelled faintly of old cheese and desperation. Molly adjusted the night-vision goggles, peering through the one-way glass at the brightly lit suburban house. Streamers danced in the breeze outside the window, mocking their serious expressions. Bill sat in the passenger seat, polishing a lockpick set with a handkerchief that had seen better decades. He looked like a man trying to clean a weapon rather than prepare for a burglary involving clown balloons. "Are you sure about this?" Bill asked, squinting at the target. Molly didn't turn away from the window. She watched a father struggle with a piñata bat. It was pathetic. "The intel says there are high-value items. Tablets. consoles. Cash envelopes." "It is a birthday party, Molly. For six-year-olds." She finally turned, her face illuminated by the green glow of the monitor. "Don't get moral on me. We need the score. The rent is due." Bill sighed, putting the picks back into their velvet case. He weighed the case in his hand, feeling the lightness of their current financial situation. "Okay. But no hurting the clowns. They have unions." "I heard they strike easily." "Not if we pay them off." "With what? Monopoly money?" "Just climb inside the house." "This is undignified for professionals." "Professionals eat food sometimes." "Fine. Pass the crowbar." "We do not need a crowbar." "Then how do I open it?" "Use your picks quietly." "Focus on the gift table. It is near the cake." "What about the parents? They look vigilant." Molly tapped the screen, zooming in on a woman yelling at a caterer. "Distracted. Perfect. We go in through the doggy door." "I am not crawling through a doggy door." "Then you stay here." Bill groaned, shifting his weight in the cramped seat. The leather creaked under his bulk. He looked at the blueprint spread across his knees. The red line marked their exit strategy through the backyard shed. It seemed plausible until one considered the guard dog sleeping on the porch. A golden retriever. Deadly. "Fine. But I get the Lego sets." "Deal. Now move." Molly opened the van door, stepping out into the cool night air. She wore all black, except for the neon yellow sneakers she refused to give up. Bill followed, locking the van with a click that echoed too loudly in the quiet street. They crouched low, moving across the manicured lawn like commandos invading a sandbox. The house loomed ahead, filled with laughter and sugar highs. Molly signaled a halt near a hydrant. She pointed at the small plastic door at the base of the main entrance. Bill shook his head but dropped to his knees anyway. The lock jammed slightly. He cursed under his breath. Molly waited impatiently. He crawled forward, disappearing into the darkness of the hallway. Molly checked her watch. They had ten minutes before the cake cutting. Time to grab the goods and vanish like magic tricksters silently. The air felt cold. Silence reigned supreme. Soon.