Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKA1HNE9AXW40WEBRD8N331

Molly and Bill crouched behind the bouncy-castle rental van tonight. "Breaking into a kids' party feels morally grey, not black," Molly whispered. Streamers flapped in the wind, carrying the distant shriek of sugar-drunk children. "Relax," Bill said, "we're redistributing wealth, just from toddlers with questionable taste." Through the frosting-smeared window, they watched a clown twist balloons into vaguely threatening dogs. "Those gift bags are calling my name," Molly breathed, "probably with tiny plastic microphones and suspiciously educational puzzles." A unicorn cake sagged under the weight of sparklers and existential disappointment. "Listen, the parents are distracted, the kids are hypnotized by sugar, and that magician is clearly losing a fight with a dove," Bill murmured. Somewhere inside, a child wailed, the universal alarm for cake being sliced unevenly. "We go in as lost entertainers," Molly said, "snatch the presents, swap in decoy boxes filled with inspirational pamphlets." Bill adjusted his clown-sized bow tie, which he insisted was crucial camouflage. "Just remember to smile and wave," Bill muttered, "because absolutely nothing says harmless like dimples, jazz hands, mismatched socks, and the honest face of organized crime today." Above them, a balloon slipped free, escaping the party long before the presents would tonight.