Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXQH2P9HEE3EWHV5CKAQVDB

The back alley behind *Party Palace* smelled like balloon rubber and stale cake frosting. Molly leaned against a dumpster, arms crossed, watching Bill pace in front of her like a caged weasel. “You’re telling me,” Bill said, “that the *best* score we’ve got this month is a bunch of kids’ birthday presents?” Molly shrugged. “Goldmine, Bill. Think about it—no security, no alarms, just a room full of distracted parents and a clown who’s probably three sheets to the wind by now.” “A *clown*?” Bill’s voice cracked. “Molly, I hate clowns. Last time I saw one, he chased me with a balloon animal shaped like a—” “Focus, Bill. We’re talking *toys*. High-end stuff. Remote control cars, gaming consoles, that new *Sparkle Pony* doll every kid’s losing their mind over. We fence those, we’re looking at five grand easy.” Bill stopped pacing. “Five grand? For *toys*?” “Ever seen a parent two days before Christmas with no presents? They’ll pay *anything*.” Bill rubbed his temples. “Okay, fine. But how do we even get in? It’s a *kids’ party*. There’s gonna be, like, *rules*.” Molly pulled a crumpled invitation from her pocket and smoothed it out. “*‘Bring your favorite stuffed animal for the Pet Parade!’*” she read. “We walk in with a teddy bear, we’re golden.” Bill blinked. “You want me to carry a teddy bear.” “It’s *disguise*, Bill. Subterfuge. We blend in, we case the joint, we grab the loot, we vanish before the piñata gets busted open.” “And if someone asks why two adults are there without a kid?” Molly grinned. “We’re the *cool* aunt and uncle. The ones who show up late, smell like cigarettes, and give the worst advice.” Bill groaned. “I *hate* when you’re right.” He hesitated. “What’s the play once we’re inside?” “Simple. You distract the clown—” “*Me?*” “—while I hit the present table. We’ve got, what, twenty minutes before cake time? Plenty of time to stuff a duffel bag full of LEGOs and GTFO.” Bill’s eyes darted toward the party hall’s back door, where the muffled sounds of *“Happy Birthday”* leaked out. “What if there’s a *dog*?” “Then we pet the dog and move on.” “What if the dog *bites* me?” Molly sighed. “Then you sue the parents and we split the settlement.” Bill took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. But if I have to hold a teddy bear, I’m naming it *Mr. Stabby* and it’s getting a knife in its back pocket.” Molly clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit.” She tossed him a floppy-eared bear from her bag. “Now put on your *‘I love children’* face and let’s go make some memories.” Bill stared at the bear. Then at Molly. “I *hate* you.” She grinned. “No, you don’t. You just hate *crime*.” “Fair.” He tucked the bear under his arm. “Let’s do this before I throw up.”