Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY94E2AJDGQX4RKQP6X69BX

The neon glow of the party store’s window cast jagged shadows across the alley as Molly adjusted her ski mask, the elastic biting into her forehead like a disapproving parent. Bill crouched beside her, fingers twitching over the lockpick set in his pocket, his breath fogging in the cold air. They’d scoped the place for three days—easy in, easy out, or so the recon suggested. The only problem was the *kids*. “You sure about this?” Molly whispered, though the question was more for the universe than Bill. “Last time we hit a birthday party, we got chased by a six-year-old with a sparkler.” Bill didn’t look up from the lock. “That was one time. And he tripped.” A giggle drifted from inside, followed by the unmistakable sound of wrapping paper being torn. Molly’s stomach growled—traitor. She’d had a protein bar at noon. “We’re not monsters. We’re just… redistributing wealth.” Bill finally glanced at her, his eyes gleaming behind the mask. “Wealth? Molly, these are *gifts*. A Lego set, a dollhouse, a—” He paused, listening. “—a *fidget spinner*.” She groaned. “Ugh, why’d they even put that in there? It’s not even a real toy.” Bill grinned. “Because some kid’s mom thought it was ‘calming.’” He wiggled the lockpick. “Five minutes. In and out. Unless we get ambushed by the clown.” Molly sighed. “There’s no clown.” “Yet.”