Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNFGW0HX80GCN21J077S0CD

Molly leaned against the wall,her eyes wide with excitement. "Bill, you won't believe the score tonight. A whole kindergarten party. Balloons, cake, and... presents. Tons of presents." Bill adjusted his glasses, peering through the window. "Presents? Molly, that's... that's not a heist. That's a... a gift grab. And a very small, very noisy one at that." "Small? Bill, it's a *party*! Think of the haul! Those parents drop off bags bigger than their kids!" Molly gestured wildly. "We hit it, we're set for months. No more dumpster diving for us." Bill sighed, tapping his chin. "Months? Molly, we're talking about... plastic toys, cheap books, maybe a broken scooter. The resale value on a three-year-old's 'treasure' is... negligible. And the security? A room full of toddlers? That's not security, that's a tactical nightmare." "Security?" Molly scoffed. "They've got a clown. A *clown*. That's their security detail? Bill, that guy's probably more scared of the kids than the kids are of him. He'll be too busy trying not to trip over his oversized shoes to notice us." Bill frowned. "The clown is a distraction, Molly. A *major* distraction. And the parents? They're... preoccupied. But the presents! They're in a giant, brightly colored piñata. We need a plan." Molly grinned, bouncing on her toes. "Plan? Bill, we don't need a plan. We need a *strategy*. Stealth. Speed. Grab the piñata, run like hell. Simple." "Simple?" Bill ran a hand through his hair. "Simple is what gets you caught, Molly. Or worse, reported to Child Protective Services. We need to consider the exit strategy. The balloon arch is a trip hazard. The cake table... well, that's a sticky situation. And the parents? They're like a pack of wolves protecting their cubs. Especially the mom in the sparkly tutu. She's got eyes like a hawk." Molly rolled her eyes. "Hawk eyes? Bill, she's probably just looking for her kid who ate too much cotton candy. We'll be in and out before she even realizes her 'sparkly' outfit is on backwards." Bill pulled out a tiny, intricate device. "This is a motion sensor. I calibrated it to ignore toddlers. And this..." He held up a small, furry glove. "This is for the piñata. We need to... *disarm* it properly. Don't want it exploding confetti everywhere. That would be... messy." Molly snatched the device. "Disarm it? Bill, it's a piñata! It's supposed to explode! That's the whole point! The kids love it! We're not defusing a bomb here!" Bill looked pained. "Technically, it's a 'confetti dispenser.' But yes, the principle is similar. We need to... carefully... extract the presents without triggering the... dispenser mechanism." Molly laughed, shaking her head. "You're overthinking it, Bill. Just grab the bag. It's probably just a pillowcase full of cheap plastic crap. We'll be heroes! Or at least, we'll have a lot of cheap plastic crap." Bill adjusted his glasses again, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Heroes? Molly, we're thieves. We're not heroes. We're... opportunistic gift redistributors. But yes, we'll have a lot of... redistributed plastic crap. Now, are you ready? The parents are starting the 'freeze dance.' That's our window." Molly nodded, her grin wide. "Ready. Let's redistribute some plastic crap." She took a deep breath, then charged towards the window, the motion sensor clutched in her hand. "On three! One... two... THREE!" She slammed her fist against the glass. "Let's go, Bill! The presents aren't going to steal themselves!"