Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK2YN1N6NY1T7Z55JDG4XAC

The rain hammered against the corrugated iron roof of the garden shed, creating a rhythm that matched the frantic tapping of Bill's fingers on his tablet. Inside, the air smelled of damp earth and old fertilizer, a far cry from the sugary scent wafting from the house next door. Molly paced the narrow aisle between bags of potting soil, her black turtleneck sticking to her skin despite the chill. She stopped abruptly, turning to face her partner with eyes wide with a mixture of adrenaline and disbelief. "You cannot be serious," Molly whispered, her voice tight. "We are professional thieves. We have bypassed laser grids in Zurich. We have swapped diamond necklaces in Tokyo. And now you want us to hit a six-year-old's birthday party?" Bill didn't look up from his screen, the blue light casting ghoulish shadows on his face. "It's not just any party, Mol. It's the Thompson kid. His uncle is a toy magnate. The gift table is basically a vault of limited edition collectibles. We walk in, grab the loot, and walk out before the clown even finishes his balloon animals." "The clown," Molly repeated, rubbing her temples. "Our cover is a clown? Bill, I don't do balloons. I have a phobia of rubber squeaking." "Then you be the magician," Bill suggested finally, locking his screen and pocketing the device. "Nobody suspects the magician. They're too busy looking for the rabbit. We go in at peak cake consumption. Everyone's sugar-comatose. Security is non-existent because who steals from a toddler?" "Everyone knows toddlers are the most dangerous demographic," Molly countered, stepping over a bag of mulch. "They have no concept of personal space or silence. One wrong move and we're swarmed by a dozen tiny witnesses screaming for their mothers. Our reputations will be destroyed. 'Molly the Magnificent: Busted by a Kindergartner.'" Bill stood up, adjusting his utility belt which currently held lockpicks, a grappling hook, and strangely, a pack of fruit snacks. "Think of the score, Mol. Those aren't just presents. That's pure profit. No serial numbers on stuffed animals. No tracking devices on plastic cars. It's the perfect crime." "It's a nursery heist," Molly groaned, leaning against a shelf that creaked ominously. "We're going to jail for stealing Lego sets. The headlines will write themselves. 'Seasoned Criminals Apprehended After Failed Attempt to Steal Play-Doh.'" "Stop being so dramatic," Bill said, moving toward the shed door and peering through a crack in the wood. "Look at them. They're distracted. The piñata is about to break. That's our window. Chaos is our camouflage." Molly joined him at the door, watching the colorful blur of children screaming as candy rained down. She sighed, the sound lost under the roar of the crowd. "If I get hit with a stick meant for a donkey, I'm leaving you there." "Deal," Bill grinned, pulling a balaclava over his head. "Just remember, grab the big boxes first. Ignore the greeting cards. They weigh nothing and pay less." "This is the lowest point of my career," Molly muttered, pulling her own mask down. "Absolutely the bottom." "Hey," Bill said, opening the door slightly. "At least we don't have to crack a safe. We just have to dodge a game of musical chairs." "Don't remind me," Molly hissed, stepping out into the rain. "If I hear 'Freeze' one time, I'm out." "Ready?" Bill asked, crouching low. "No," Molly replied, following him into the darkness. "But let's get this over with before I change my mind and become a legitimate baker."