Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKRKKWTVAR5DCR33CS12RT4

Molly crouched behind the inflatable castle, her flashlight flickering across the pastel balloons that swayed like a nervous audience. The garden was a maze of streamers, plastic tablecloths, and a towering cake that threatened to melt under the summer sun. Bill slipped a candy‑colored mask over his face, his eyes scanning the crowd of giggling children and distracted parents. “Do you think they’ll notice a missing clown?” Bill whispered, his voice barely louder than the squeak of a squeaky toy on the grass. Molly glanced at the open gift table, the pile of brightly wrapped parcels stacked like a mountain of opportunity. “If we move fast enough, the kids will think the presents are just part of the magic show,” she replied, tapping a finger against the edge of a glittery bow. “Magic show, huh?” Bill chuckled, and the burst of a whooping balloon. “I’m more worried about the parents. One of them might have a selfie stick and start livestreaming our grand entrance.” Molly smiled, pulling a small set of lock‑picks from her pocket. “I’ve already disabled the security camera. The only thing left is the door that leads to the party room. It’s a simple latch—no alarm, just a squeaky hinge.” “Great,” Bill said, his tone a mix of excitement and caution. “What’s the plan for the exit? We can’t just vanish into a pile of confetti.” Molly glanced at the map she had sketched on a napkin, the route marked with arrows and a tiny X where the gift table sat. “We’ll use the service door behind the kitchen. It’s a back‑door that the caterers use to bring in the cake. Once we’re out, we’ll blend with the crowd of parents leaving with their children.” Bill nodded, adjusting his mask. “And the presents? We can’t just dump them in a trash can. We need a stash.” Molly pulled a large tote bag from under her jacket, the seams reinforced with duct tape. “I’ve got a van parked two blocks away. We’ll load everything up, drive to the warehouse, and rewrap them as ‘donations.’ No one will suspect a thing.” “Donations, huh?” Bill smirked. “I always wanted to be a Santa for a day, just without the moral baggage.” Molly laughed, the sound barely audible over the music from a speaker. “Exactly. And the kids will think the presents vanished because the magician was too good. We’ll be the real magicians.” Bill’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Alright, let’s do it. You take the left side of the table, I’ll handle the right. On three, we grab everything and make a run for the service door.” Molly counted on her fingers, the rhythm matching the beat of a children’s song playing nearby. “One… two… three.” They moved in perfect sync, their gloved hands slipping under the ribbons, pulling out toys, gadgets, and plush animals. The rustle of wrapping paper sounded like applause in the silent night. As the last gift was lifted, a child’s giggle echoed from the garden, a reminder that the world was still full of innocence. Bill slipped the tote bag under his arm, his grin widening. “We’ve got the loot, Molly. Now let’s disappear before anyone notices the missing cake.” Molly glanced at the service door, the latch already loosened. “Ready when you are. Let’s make this the most unforgettable party ever—just not for the kids.”