Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXQJP64QP3684XKEQR76A3V

The rain drummed against the roof of the stolen ice cream truck, a perfect disguise for their latest heist. Molly adjusted her oversized sunglasses, even though it was pouring outside, and leaned over the map spread across the dashboard. Bill, chewing on a stolen candy cane, squinted at the blueprints of the mansion where the children’s party was being held. “You’re telling me we’re breaking into a kid’s birthday party?” Bill said, licking sticky sugar from his fingers. Molly sighed. “Not just any kid’s party, Bill. This is the *Richardsons*. Their kid’s getting a pony. A *pony*. And do you know what else they’re getting? A mountain of presents that’ll make our retirement look like a vacation in the Bahamas.” Bill frowned. “I don’t like kids. They scream.” “They’re distracted. And we’re not here to hurt them. We’re here to *liberate* their gifts from their greedy little hands.” Bill scratched his chin. “What’s the plan?” Molly grinned. “Simple. We crash the party, blend in, and when the cake’s being cut, we hit the present table. You grab the big stuff, I’ll take the small, expensive stuff.” “And the pony?” Molly hesitated. “We don’t take the pony.” “Why not?” “Because it’s a *pony*, Bill. It’s not exactly discreet.” Bill shrugged. “Fair. But what if the kid cries?” Molly rolled her eyes. “Then you distract them with a balloon animal.” “Since when do I know how to make balloon animals?” “Since you watched that tutorial I sent you last week.” Bill groaned. “I thought that was for *fun*.” “Everything’s for the job, Bill.” The rain slowed to a drizzle, and Molly peered out the window. “Alright, let’s move. We’ve got a party to crash.” Bill grabbed his bag of tools. “You know, I never thought I’d say this, but I miss the days when we robbed banks.” Molly smirked. “Where’s the fun in that? Kids’ parties are where the real money is.” They slipped out of the truck, blending into the crowd of parents and nannies milling about the mansion’s grand entrance. The sound of laughter and music spilled out into the garden, and Molly adjusted her fake mustache. “You look ridiculous,” Bill muttered. “And you look like a guy who’s about to steal a lifetime supply of LEGO,” Molly shot back. Bill sighed. “Let’s just get this over with.” They stepped inside, the scent of cake and balloons filling the air. Molly scanned the room, spotting the towering present table in the corner. “There it is. The jackpot.” Bill adjusted his tie. “Alright, let’s do this. And if anyone asks, we’re the clowns.” Molly groaned. “We are *not* the clowns.” “Too late,” Bill said, nodding toward a little girl tugging on his sleeve. “Uh… hi, kid.” The girl blinked up at him. “Are you the magician?” Bill panicked. “No! I mean—yes! I’m the magician. But I’m also… very busy.” Molly grabbed his arm. “We’re here to *work*, Bill. Not perform.” The girl pointed at the present table. “You can make my presents disappear?” Bill and Molly exchanged a glance. “Exactly,” Molly said, grinning. “Now, if you’ll excuse us…” They made their move, weaving through the crowd toward the presents. The cake was being cut, the kids were distracted, and the coast was clear. “This is it,” Molly whispered. “Time to make some magic.” Bill nodded. “For the last time, I am *not* a magician.” Molly rolled her eyes. “Just grab the presents, Bill.” And with that, the heist began.