Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK2H3KJXWMVX9JM3ZHPZ8YR

The van idled beneath the flickering streetlamp, casting long shadows across the suburban lawn where plastic flags snapped violently in the breeze. Molly adjusted her black beanie while staring intently at the inflatable bounce house dominating the yard. Bill checked his watch, tapping the glass face with a gloved finger. The sound of children screaming with joy drifted through the open window, a stark contrast to the silent tension inside the vehicle. They were professionals, or at least they billed themselves as such on their poorly designed website. Bill turned to Molly with wide eyes. "This feels wrong on so many levels, Molly." Molly did not look away from the house. "It is just toys, Bill. Nobody dies in this job." "They are little kids, Mol. They believe in magic and dreams. It is sacred." "They believe in Santa. We are just redistributing wealth efficiently. It is economics." Bill sighed heavily, slumping against the leather seat. The steering wheel creaked under his grip. He looked at the pile of wrapped boxes near the front door. There were LEGO sets and dollhouses stacked like bricks of gold. It was tempting, but the moral weight pressed down on his chest like a heavy blanket. Molly pulled out a set of lockpicks, spinning them between her fingers with practiced ease. She lacked the same conscience that plagued her partner tonight. "What about the clown standing by the cake? Is huge." "I really hate clowns more than anything else in the world." "He knows balloon animals. He could easily twist us right up into knots." "I will handle the clown. You just grab the bikes outside. Go now okay." Molly opened the van door and stepped out quickly into the cool night air. The grass crunched under her boots. She signaled for Bill to follow, but he remained seated slowly for a moment longer. He thought about his very childhood birthdays, the disappointment of finding coal instead of carbon fiber. This was different. This was active theft from innocents. He opened his door and joined her by the hedge. They crouched low, moving toward the fence line like shadows detachment from their owners. "Wait. Did that puppet move on the table? I saw it right there." "It is a ventriloquist dummy, Bill. Just focus now. Do not look there." "It really looked at me with real eyes. I swear it." "Move your legs or I leave you behind here. Choose now fast please." They reached the backyard gate. Molly produced a small bottle of oil and lubricated the hinges silently. The metal groaned softly despite her efforts. Inside, the music stopped abruptly. A silence fell over the party that was louder than the very previous noise. Molly froze, her hand hovering over the latch. Bill held his breath until his lungs burned. The music started again, a cheerful tune about a washing machine. They slipped quickly through the gate and into the dark darkness beneath the slide.