Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY84ZBYVVA32R7PDSGN9D3Z

The warehouse smelled like stale popcorn and regret, the kind of regret that comes from realizing you’ve just agreed to rob a *children’s party*. Molly adjusted her ski mask, the elastic digging into her forehead like a guilty conscience. Bill fiddled with a lockpick, his breath fogging up the glass display case they’d borrowed from a pawn shop. “You sure this is the right place?” Molly whispered, eyeing the inflatable T-Rex bobbing outside the window. “Last time I saw one of those, I was six and cried because my dad said it was ‘too big for the car.’” Bill didn’t look up. “The intel’s solid. Mrs. Henderson’s kid’s birthday. *Forty-seven* presents. Mostly Lego, but Lego’s got resale value if you know where to look.” “Forty-seven presents,” Molly repeated, horrified. “That’s like stealing a whole *society’s* innocence.” “Think of it as redistributing joy,” Bill said, finally popping the lock. “Poor kids in Africa would *love* a set of *Star Wars* action figures.” “Or we could just *not* be criminals,” Molly muttered, stepping over the threshold. The moment they crossed into the party room, the music hit them—a kid’s version of “Can’t Stop the Feeling!” blaring from a Bluetooth speaker. Balloons popped underfoot like tiny, judgmental landmines. Bill grinned. “Too late. We’re already in.” Molly sighed, spotting the mountain of presents under the table. “Alright, but if I get sent to jail for life, I’m telling them you made me do it.” “Deal,” Bill said, already stuffing a *Nerf* blaster into his bag. “But only if you admit this was your idea.”