Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY8YYZR311AFYRQMNBPNRAT

The neon glow of a flickering "Happy Birthday!" balloon cast long shadows across the living room table where Molly adjusted the strap of her satchel, her fingers tapping impatiently against the edge. Bill leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, a half-eaten candy bar wrapper crumpled in his hand. "You sure about this?" Bill asked, swirling the last drop of soda in his cup. "Kid parties are like Fort Knox, but with more glitter and less security." Molly shot him a look. "I’m not stealing from kids, Bill. I’m stealing *for* kids. Ever seen a kid’s birthday present list? It’s like a treasure map to the best toys on Earth. And half of ‘em are just sitting there, untouched, like they’re waiting for us." Bill snorted. "Or like they’re waiting for the parents to realize they forgot to wrap the new LEGO set in bubble wrap." "Details." Molly waved a hand. "The point is, we’re not just thieves—we’re *gift liberators*. We’re giving these presents to kids who *actually* want them. The ones whose parents say, ‘Oh, you like that? Cool, here’s a $200 drone you’ll break in two days.’" Bill grinned. "You’re selling it hard. I like it. But how do we get in? The place is crawling with parents and cousins and—" "—And cake," Molly interrupted, holding up a finger. "The cake is our in. See, most parents are too busy stuffing their faces to notice a shadowy figure slipping past the dessert table." Bill raised an eyebrow. "You’ve done this before." "Once. It went… *interestingly*." Molly’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "I got caught by the birthday boy’s uncle. He thought I was a ghost. Turns out, I was just wearing a hoodie that said ‘Spooky Season’ and had *way* too much coffee." Bill laughed. "Okay, new plan. We go in as *cake inspectors*. We’ll just… sample the dessert. See if it’s up to snuff." Molly’s eyes lit up. "I *love* it. We’ll say we’re from the ‘Culinary Crime Prevention Bureau.’ We’ll take a bite, nod solemnly, and then—*poof*—we’re gone with the presents." Bill paused, then pointed at her. "You’re evil." "Efficient," Molly corrected. "And besides, if we’re caught, we’ll just blame it on the cake. ‘Oh, it was *definitely* the frosting. It made us do it.’" Bill shook his head, but he was smiling. "Alright, but we’re doing this *my* way. You’re wearing the disguise. I’m handling the distraction." Molly groaned. "You’re going to *yell* at the cake?" "Worse. I’m going to *sing* at the cake. Something loud. Something *off-key*." Molly groaned again. "Bill, I *hate* you." "Good. That means you’ll remember to bring the duct tape." He stood up, stretching. "Meet at the van in twenty. And Molly?" "Yeah?" "Bring snacks. For the kids. Just in case." Molly rolled her eyes, but she was already pulling out her phone. "I’m texting the list of presents we’re hitting. The *Good* presents. The ones with batteries that don’t die after five minutes." Bill clapped her on the back. "You’re a menace." "And you love me." She grinned. "Now go practice your off-key serenade. We’ve got a party to rob."