Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY8P00BSRVGHEHPD8T2JV69

The neon glow of a flickering "Happy Birthday!" balloon cast long shadows across the living room table where Molly traced a finger along the blueprint of the birthday boy’s mansion. Bill leaned back in his chair, twirling a pencil between his fingers like a conductor’s baton, his grin as sharp as the blade he’d "borrowed" from the butcher earlier. "Alright, *partner*," Bill drawled, "we’re not just stealing presents—we’re stealing *joy*. Imagine the look on that kid’s face when he wakes up to a house full of empty boxes and a single, *very* confused teddy bear." Molly snorted, tossing a handful of candy wrappers into a nearby trash can. "Oh, I *love* the idea of him thinking Santa was a no-show. But we gotta move fast—this place is crawling with *parents* who think they’re the fun police." Bill tapped the blueprint. "No problem. We hit at midnight, right after the cake’s cut but before the parents realize their kids have turned into sugar-fueled tornadoes. We’ll be in and out like a ghost with a *very* nice shopping list." Molly raised an eyebrow. "And the security? I saw cameras everywhere." Bill waved a hand. "Pfft. Cameras? Those things are just for show. Besides, I’ve got my *special* talent." He patted his jacket pocket where a small, very illegal device hummed ominously. "Distraction mode. One press, and those cameras start playing *Baby Shark* on loop. Parents will be screaming at each other before we’ve even grabbed the first present." Molly grinned. "You’re a genius. Just don’t let the kid catch us. Last thing we need is a birthday boy with a *very* sharp knife and a grudge." Bill stood, adjusting his gloves. "Nah, kid’s got no idea what’s coming. But his parents? Oh, they’re gonna *regret* every life choice that led them to this party." He clapped his hands together. "Alright, let’s do this. But first—" He pulled a single, slightly squished cupcake from his pocket. "For morale."