Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY8JKR7V2HWY7T1BSYR6ET0

The neon glow of the party hall pulsed like a dying star, casting jagged shadows across the polished floorboards. Molly adjusted her scarf, the fabric whispering against her cheek as she leaned against the doorframe, her breath fogging the cold metal. Bill crouched beside her, his gloved fingers tracing the seam where the lock should be—*too* well-oiled, almost as if someone had been here before them. A child’s laughter drifted through the open window, sharp and unguarded. Molly’s stomach twisted. They’d heard the rumors: this place was a fortress of presents, guarded by a security system so basic it was practically a joke. Bill’s eyes flicked to the security camera mounted on the ceiling, its lens glinting like a hungry eye. "We’re not getting in that way," he muttered, already unzipping his jacket to reveal a jury-rigged alarm disable kit. Molly smirked, rolling her eyes. "You’re such a romantic. What if they have a *real* alarm?" She plucked a loose wire from her pocket, testing its weight. "Or worse—what if they have *kids*?" Bill groaned, but his grin was triumphant. "Then we’ll just have to make sure they’re *very* busy." He tossed her a pair of sunglasses. "Blind them. Classic." Molly caught them, slipping them on. The lenses were so dark they might as well have been a pair of night goggles. "You’re ridiculous," she said, though she couldn’t help laughing. The door creaked open behind them, and for a heartbeat, they froze—until the partygoers’ cheers swallowed the sound. Bill exhaled sharply. "We’re in."