Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY96K7T6WGBAV89J6EJTJE5

Molly hunched over the kitchen table in their cramped hideout, blueprints of the community center sprawled out like a kid's finger-painting disaster. Bill paced behind her, twirling a lockpick like a deranged baton. The target: a birthday bash for rich kid Timothy Worthington III, loaded with gadgets, bikes, and enough toys to fund their next score. "Look at this," Molly whispered, circling the venue's layout. "Back entrance by the bounce house. We slip in during the piñata chaos—kids'll be blindfolded and screaming." Bill snorted, peering over her shoulder. "And the clown? That red-nosed freak's got a squirting flower. One wrong move, we're soaked rejects." She smirked, sketching a quick escape route past the cake table. "We'll dress as party crashers—me as a balloon animal artist, you as the face-painter with bad tattoos. Grab the gift pile while they're singing 'Happy Birthday.' Easy peasy." "But what if the rugrats spot us? Little Timmy's got those beady eyes," Bill grumbled, rubbing his chin. Molly leaned back, eyes gleaming. "Diversion: fake spider in the punch bowl. Total meltdown. We vanish with the loot before the cops crash the confetti." Bill grinned, high-fiving her. The plan was ridiculous, but in their world, absurdity was the ultimate disguise.