Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK2CQZKVTG6W9XHAV0PR7V9

The rain hammered against the corrugated铁皮 roof of the shed, creating a rhythm that matched the frantic tapping of Bill's fingers on his tablet. Inside, the air smelled of wet dog and stale croissants, a fitting atmosphere for twocareer criminals plotting the theft of glitter-covered trinkets. Molly paced the small space, her boots squeaking on the concrete, while Bill squinted at the blueprints of the community center next door. "This is it," Bill whispered, tracing a red line on the screen. "The Golden Birthday. Seven-year-old Timothy's big day. The loot is stacked in the side room, unguarded until the cake cutting." Molly stopped pacing and stared at him. "You want us to rob a kindergarten party? We hit banks, Bill. We hit armored cars. Not places with bounce houses." "The security is nonexistent," Bill insisted, his eyes gleaming with a manic light. "One tired clown, a grandmother blowing up balloons, and a room full of sugar-crazed toddlers. It's the perfect storm." "It's a moral nightmare," Molly countered, crossing her arms. "We are professionals. We have reputations." "Our reputation is that we haven't eaten in two days because the bank job went south," Bill snapped. "Do you know how much those limited edition superhero action figures go for on the black market? Plus the cash envelopes. It's a goldmine wrapped in colorful paper." Molly sighed, rubbing her temples. "Fine. But if I get caught stealing a My Little Pony, I'm blaming you entirely." They moved to the window, peering through the grime at the brightly lit community center across the alley. Laughter drifted over, mixed with the shrill whistle of a referee. "See?" Bill pointed. "The clown is doing balloon animals. That's our window. Everyone will be distracted by the twisting of latex into dog shapes." "And the escape route?" Molly asked, her professional instincts kicking in despite the absurdity. "Through the ball pit," Bill said confidently. "It's deep, it's chaotic, and no one looks twice at someone rolling around in plastic spheres. We dump the gifts in the oversized duffel bags, dive in, and crawl out the maintenance hatch behind the play structure." Molly looked at him with pure disbelief. "You want us to crawl through a ball pit filled with snot and crumbs?" "It's the only way," Bill shrugged. "Unless you want to walk past the piñata guard." "The what?" "He hired a security guard dressed as a giant donkey to watch the piñata," Bill explained. "It's a whole thing. Very thematic." Molly groaned, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. "A donkey guard. Great. Just great." "Think of the money, Mol," Bill coaxed, crouching beside her. "Think of never having to eat gas station sushi again." She looked at the rain, then back at the festive lights of the party. "If we do this, I'm keeping the cash. You can have the toys." "Deal," Bill grinned, extending a hand. "Now, put on your disguise. We need to look like exhausted parents." Molly pulled a stained baseball cap over her eyes. "I hate my life." "You love the thrill," Bill corrected, opening the shed door. "Let's go steal some birthday joy." They stepped out into the rain, two silhouettes moving toward the glow of childish happiness, ready to commit the most ridiculous crime of their careers.