Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNF7JV7YX248Q40W3SM54E8

The basement of the old pawnshop smelled of stale coffee and cheap perfume. A flickering neon sign outside cast a garish pink glow onto a cracked ceiling. In the middle of the room, a metal table held a crumpled flyer for a children's birthday party. The flyer promised a mountain of presents, a slime station, a bouncy castle, and a live clown. Molly leaned against the wall, tapping her fingers on the paper, while Bill perched on a rickety stool, a half‑eaten donut in his hand. They both stared at the map they had drawn on the back of a pizza box, their eyes gleaming with mischief. It was the perfect target: a party full of presents, a horde of excited kids, and distracted parents who would never notice a couple of extra “helpers” slipping away with the loot. Molly: "The party starts at two. There's a clown, a magician, and a huge pile of presents. We need to get in unnoticed." Bill: "Easy. We'll arrive early wearing matching ‘Party Helpers’ shirts, carrying a box of extra balloons. The parents will think we're the setup crew." Molly: "I'll be the magician's assistant. My top hat is actually a collapsible bag. While he does a trick, I'll swap the gifts." Bill: "I'll handle the cleanup, with a trash bag that's really a duffel. When the cake is cut, the parents will be distracted. That's our window." Molly: "If the clown juggles, I'll distract him with a rubber chicken. You grab the last box of Legos, and we slip out the back door." Bill: "We meet at the van in fifteen minutes. If anything goes wrong, we claim we're part of the entertainment." Molly: "Deal. Let's make this the greatest birthday heist ever." Bill rubbed his hands together, the crumbs from his donut falling onto the floor. 'Alright, let's run through the timeline one more time,' he said, pulling a stained napkin from his pocket. Molly nodded, pointing to the sketched layout of the community hall. 'We enter through the side door at one‑thirty, before the parents start arriving. The balloons will be our cover. I’ll slip the hat onto the table when the magician begins his first card trick. As soon as the cake is cut, the crowd will surge toward the snack table, giving us a clear shot to the gift table. You’ll have the trash bag ready. We grab the outermost boxes first—those are the heaviest, and the parents will think we’re just tidying up. Once the van is loaded, we’ll exit via the alley, blending in with the cleanup crew that’s scheduled to arrive at three‑fifteen.' Bill grinned, tapping his watch. 'Three‑fourteen‑thirty, we’re gone. The kids will be left wondering where their presents went, and the only thing they’ll find is a single rubber chicken perched on the empty table.' The two thieves high‑fived, their laughter echoing off the concrete walls. Outside, the distant thump of a bass from the party’s boombox floated down the street, a rhythmic reminder that the real show was about to begin.