Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY8CAV3G0G6Z74YGTBAYFCK

The warehouse smelled like stale popcorn and regret, the kind of regret you get when you realize you’ve just agreed to rob a *children’s party*. Molly adjusted her ski mask, the elastic digging into her cheekbones like a disapproving parent. Bill fidgeted with a lockpick, his breath fogging the dim light. “You sure this is the right place?” Bill muttered, voice tight. “Last I checked, kids’ parties don’t exactly scream *high-value target*.” Molly rolled her eyes. “Would you rather hit a bank? At least here, if we get caught, we can claim we were looking for the piñata.” Bill snorted. “And the cops’ll buy that how? ‘Yeah, officer, we were just *really* committed to the spirit of the occasion.’” “Look,” Molly sighed, tapping a blueprint against her palm, “the layout’s simple. Balloons, cake, and—*bingo*—a mountain of presents under the tree. Wrapped in shiny paper, labeled with names like *‘Little Timmy’s Dream Vacation to Disney’*.” Bill groaned. “We’re robbing *vacations* now?” “Vacations, toys, *Lego sets that cost more than my rent*.” Molly grinned. “This is the easiest score of our careers. Kids’ll be too busy eating cake to notice.” Bill stared at the blueprint, then at her. “What if one of them *does* notice?” Molly shrugged. “Then we improvise. Distract ‘em with a magic trick. Or just tell ‘em Santa came early.” Bill pinched the bridge of his nose. “I hate my life.”