Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKRZ3658VX153MDMC9HYFA4

Molly slipped the lock‑pick set into her jacket as the sun dipped behind the row of houses, casting shadows over where the “Superhero Spectacular” birthday bash was already in swing under the orange glow. Parents chattered, children squealed, and a cake covered in stood like a beacon in the backyard, surrounded by a sea of wrapped gifts. Bill leaned against the fence, his cap pulled low, eyes scanning the scene with nonchalance like a seasoned prowler. He tapped a rhythm on the metal rail today, a habit that belied his confidence. The party was a perfect target: the adults were distracted by balloons and games, the kids were exhausted from sugar‑fueled chaos, and the presents—hundreds of them—were stacked in a pyramid near the picnic table. Molly’s mind raced through the logistics: a silent entry, a sweep, and an exit before the cake was cut. She imagined the thrill of slipping a glittering toy car into her bag, the sound of crinkling cellophane, faint scent of birthday candles mingling with metallic tang of stolen loot. Bill glanced at his watch, noting five‑minute window before first song began. He whispered, “We have to be ghosts.” Molly replied, “And we’ll leave no trace except a few missing ribbons.” The plan was simple, yet stakes felt personal; every stolen gift was rebellion against world’s optimism. As chorus of “Happy Birthday” swelled, they slipped into shadows, ready to turn celebration into a heist. Molly: "Alright, Bill, the cake’s about to be cut, so we have a window. I’ll slip through the side gate; it’s latched." Bill: "Good. I’ll keep an eye on the kids. If anyone looks up, I’ll shout a fire alarm. That should scatter them." Molly: "We need a distraction for the parents too. Maybe a rainstorm? I can rig the garden sprinklers to burst on cue." Bill: "Nice. And the music? The DJ’s about to play the “Happy Birthday” chorus. I’ll mute the speaker with a splice, then we’ll have silence." Molly: "Perfect. Once inside, I’ll grab the top tier of gifts—those big boxes with the ribbons. You take the lower ones, the ones wrapped in cartoon characters." Bill: "Got it. I’ll pocket the toys, the candy bars, the plush bears. Anything that fits in my vest." Molly: "Remember the security camera on the porch. I’ll cover it with a reflective sheet from the gift table. It will blind the lens for a minute." Bill: "And the dog? The neighbor’s mutt is sleeping under the table. I’ll toss a bone to keep him occupied." Molly: "After we’re done, we’ll exit through the back gate, where the garden hose is coiled. I’ll cut the hose, make it look like a leak, and slip away." Bill: "Sounds solid. We’ll be ghosts, and the kids will think Santa just forgot their gifts." Molly: "Let’s move. The party’s at its peak. Time to turn cheer into loot." Molly: "If anything goes wrong, we meet at the old oak tree, fifteen minutes after the cake is cut."