Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKRSFKDG5ER1C7BPR8PNMQC

Molly crouched behind the inflatable castle, its pink tube glowing under the afternoon sun. The backyard was a sea of streamers, balloon animals, and a table piled high with gift wrap that resembled a mountain of crinkly paper. Parents milled about with half smiles while kids darted between the candy buffet and the piñata, oblivious to the silhouettes in the shadows. Bill, perched on a folding chair, adjusted his oversized sunglasses—a heist accessory, but he swore they made him look cooler. He whispered into his earpiece, voice barely audible over a squeaky toy. Molly: “Do you think the clown will notice us?” Bill: “Only if he’s looking for his own missing red nose.” Molly: “The kids are distracted by the magician’s disappearing act—perfect.” Bill: “And the gift table is right under the big oak, easy to grab.” Molly: “We need a distraction. Maybe a fake fire alarm?” Bill: “I have a smoke bomb that smells like cinnamon. Kids love that.” Molly: “Cinnamon? That’ll make the parents think it’s a bakery emergency.” Bill: “Exactly. While they scramble, we’ll load the sack.” Molly: “What about the security camera? It’s on the fence.” Bill: “I’ll jam it with a cheap RF blocker. Two minutes of blind spot.” Molly: “And the door code? The host posted it on a sticky note.” Bill: “I’ll copy it with my phone. No problem.” Molly: “Alright, you handle the smoke, I’ll grab the presents.” Bill: “Meet at the tree in five. No one will see us.” Molly: “If we get caught, I’m blaming the clown.” Bill: “Deal. And if the clown gets blamed, we’ll be legends.” The sun set, casting shadows that made the inflatable castle a beast. Molly slipped black gloves into her pocket, material whispering against the vinyl. Bill checked his cheap watch, beeped every minute, reminding him time was a luxury they didn’t have. He pulled a battered tin from his coat—inside, a compact smoke bomb releasing cinnamon‑scented fog. He tested it on a leaf; the air filled with sweet, bakery‑like aroma, pausing a sparrow. Molly crouched by the gift table, scanning the mountain of boxes. The biggest pile sat under a blue banner reading “Happy Birthday, Timmy!” Its frayed corners offered a perfect rope spot. Bill slipped behind the cake stand, oversized sunglasses crooked, adding ridiculous confidence. He whispered, “Ready when you are.” Molly nodded, grin as wide as the castle’s arch. A child’s balloon popped, startling a parent. Bill tossed the cinnamon bomb onto the grass.