Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKRXF3XC3XBTWY1HS3GS01S

The night was thick with the smell of cheap pizza and the distant hum of a backyard grill. Molly crouched behind a hedge, her eyes scanning the flickering fairy lights that draped the McAllister’s cul‑de‑sac. A plastic tablecloth fluttered in the breeze, a banner that read “Happy Birthday, Timmy!” sagged under the weight of balloons. She could already hear the muffled giggles of children inside, the clatter of plastic plates, and the soft thud of a cake being sliced. Bill slipped through the gate, his sneakers barely making a sound on the damp grass. Molly pulled a crumpled flyer from her pocket, its neon ink promising “Free Candy for Kids!” She unfolded it, revealing a crude map of the party layout, arrows pointing to the gift table, the snack bar, and the exit. Bill raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as he imagined the loot. “We’re not just stealing candy, Molly. We’re taking the whole treasure trove,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rustle of leaves. Molly: “First, we need a distraction. I’ll set off the sprinkler system from the side gate.” Bill: “Good idea. The kids will think it’s a water fight and run for the house.” Molly: “Then I’ll slip in through the pet door, the one the neighbor left ajar for the dog.” Bill: “I’ll keep watch on the driveway, flash a flashlight if the parents show up.” Molly: “The gift table is under the blue balloon arch; that’s where the presents are stacked.” Bill: “We have to be quick. The cake will be cut in five minutes, and the parents will start taking photos.” Molly: “I’ve got a set of lock‑picks that can open the garden gate without a sound.” Bill: “And I’ve brought a sack big enough to carry all the toys and gadgets.” Molly: “Let’s meet back at the van in ten minutes, after the last kid leaves.” Bill: “Deal. No one will suspect a thing.” Bill slipped a small flashlight from his belt, its beam weak but enough to outline the garden gnomes that dotted the lawn. He crouched low, listening for the thump of a parent’s car door opening. The distant sound of a pop‑song drifted from a Bluetooth speaker, its cheerful melody clashing with the seriousness of their caper. Molly checked the pocket watch; the hands pointed to twenty‑three minutes before the birthday cake would be revealed. She could already picture the mountain of wrapped boxes, each one a treasure waiting to be lifted into their bag. The children, oblivious to the impending theft, were busy chasing a rogue balloon that had slipped away from the tether. A mother laughed, calling out, “Don’t let the balloon get away!” The moment was perfect: the adults would be distracted, the kids would be scattered, and the house would be of plastic toys, candy bars, and an action figure. Bill whispered, “We move on my signal. When the clown blows the whistle, we’re in.” Molly nodded, her eyes glittering with the promise of a loot that would fund their next big score.