Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKB4BV8Y8GCTEGGY8CNC96Z

"Molly, why are there balloons shaped like dinosaurs on the security perimeter?" "Because, Bill, it’s a children’s party. The dinosaurs are the perimeter." "Right. And the bouncy castle?" "Our distraction. You jump, I swipe." "I’m not bouncing; I’m a professional." "A professional who squeaks when he runs." "That was my shoes, not my soul." Molly adjusted her tiny black beanie, which still had a glittery pom‑pom from the last job. Behind the hedge, the backyard blazed with streamers and sugar. A clown patrolled near the gift table like a heavily armed marshmallow. "Clock it: eight minutes until cake." "Eight minutes? That’s barely enough to loot a bicycle and a chemistry set." "Focus. We take the present pile, dump it in the wagon, vanish through the pinata smoke." "There’s pinata smoke?" "I’m improvising. New intel: the dad is grilling." "Grilling? Like… questions?" "No, sausages. But he looks suspiciously competent." Bill peered over the fence and winced as a toddler locked eyes with him. "She saw me." "Smile." "I’m wearing a mask." "Then wave like you’re hired entertainment." Bill waved. The toddler waved back, then screamed, "MAGIC MAN!" "Perfect," Molly whispered. "They’re already cheering our getaway." Bill sighed, tightening the wagon strap.