Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY8S1VF5BS06RR465YKVD5T

The neon glow of the party bounces off the rain-slicked pavement as Molly adjusts the diamond-studded tiara she’d "borrowed" from a jewelry store earlier that week. Bill, perched on the fire escape like a disgruntled owl, squints through the foggy glass at the sugar-rush chaos unfolding below. "Alright," Molly whispers, her breath fogging the tiara’s gems, "we’re in. The cake’s already been cut, the kids are hyper, and the parents are too busy texting to notice if we vanish into the crowd." She winks at Bill, who grumbles into his scarf. "You’re just mad because you wanted to go in through the *kitchen*." Bill scoffs, tossing a stolen balloon into the alley. "The kitchen’s where the *security guard* is. And also where the *food* is. I was thinking we could take the piñata first—psychological warfare." He gestures vaguely at the party. "One less thing for them to miss." Molly snorts, rolling her eyes. "You’re terrible at this. We’re not here to *terrorize*, we’re here to *liberate*. And also, the piñata’s got *candy* in it. We’re not animals." She pats her jacket pocket where the master key to the front door now resides. "Besides, I already checked—no cameras. Just a guy in a Santa hat who’s *way* too into his phone." Bill sighs, pulling a tiny inflatable unicorn from his sleeve. "Fine. But if we get caught, I’m blaming you for not letting me bring the *distraction*." He tosses the unicorn onto the roof, where it immediately deflates with a sad *whoosh*. "See? Even my *plans* fail." Molly smirks, grabbing his arm. "Then let’s go steal some presents before the unicorn gets a complex."