Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNFR8CCFGRZC8267FW05G0B

Molly leaned againstthe fence, squinting at the backyard party. "Look at that, Bill. Pure gold. Candy mountains, cake castles, and those presents... they're practically begging to be liberated." Bill adjusted his glasses, peering through his binoculars. "Molly, we agreed this was a bad idea. Kids' parties are like walking into a minefield wrapped in glitter. One wrong move and you're covered in cake and tears." "Tears? That's just collateral damage, Bill. Collateral damage we can sell on the black market for... well, maybe not much, but it's the principle!" Molly grinned, her eyes fixed on a large, brightly wrapped box labeled 'BIG TOY.' "That one's mine. I've always wanted a remote-controlled dinosaur." Bill sighed, his voice tight. "Molly, that's a toddler's birthday party. The 'security' is a three-year-old with a temper tantrum and a parent who looks like they could bench-press a minivan. And the 'vault' is a living room filled with hyperactive sugar-rushed children." "Security detail," Molly corrected, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "They're easily distracted. Watch." She pointed. A child, clutching a half-eaten cupcake, ran past the present table, screaming about a lost teddy bear. Parents scrambled after him, creating a perfect diversion. Bill watched the chaos unfold. "Distracted? More like completely oblivious. But Molly, the plan? Breaking into a house while it's occupied? That's not a heist, that's a suicide mission with a side of sugar shock." Molly chuckled, already moving. "Relax, Bill. We're not breaking in. We're... borrowing. Discreetly. Like professional... present retrieval specialists." She gestured towards the open back door. "See that? The parents are all inside. The kids are outside. Perfect cover." Bill hesitated, then lowered his binoculars. "You're insane. What if someone sees us? What if the dog barks? What if the toddler who lost his teddy bear decides to investigate?" Molly winked. "Then we improvise. We're thieves, Bill. We improvise. Now, come on. The dinosaur isn't going to steal itself." She started towards the door. Bill grabbed her arm. "Molly, wait! What about the... the noise? The... the potential for... catastrophic failure?" Molly looked at him, her expression suddenly serious. "Bill, if we don't get that dinosaur, who will? It's a crime against childhood! Now, let's go get it before the parents realize their presents are missing and start asking awkward questions about how we got in." With a deep breath, Bill nodded, though his knuckles were white. "Right. Crime against childhood. Got it. Just... try not to step on any Legos, okay?" Molly grinned, pushing open the back door. "Don't worry. I've got a plan. It involves extreme stealth, a carefully calculated distraction, and absolutely no talking to the children. Unless absolutely necessary. Like if one tries to hug us. Then we... we might need to improvise again." She disappeared into the house, leaving Bill to follow, his heart pounding like a drum solo. The party was about to get a whole lot more interesting.