Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY9AYP477JY5XWXFP6YGYWR

**Title: *The Great Toy Heist*** The neon glow of the party hall pulsed like a dying star outside the window of Molly’s hideout—a cramped basement with a flickering fluorescent light and a single half-empty coffee cup. Bill leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her adjust her gloves. “You’re doing it again,” he said, voice dripping with fake sympathy. “You’re *overthinking* the whole thing.” Molly rolled her eyes, tossing a stolen keyring onto the table. “I’m not overthinking. I’m *planning*.” “Yeah, well, planning’s overrated. We just need to get in, grab the presents, and *run*.” “And how do we *run*?” Molly asked, plucking a lockpick from her pocket. “This place is bigger than a goddamn airport.” Bill groaned. “You’re *terrible* at this.” “Shut up and help me with the window.” Five minutes later, the window was open—just enough for a quick escape. Molly grinned. “We’re in.” Bill groaned again. “We’re *not* in. We’re *almost* in.” A loud *BANG* echoed from the party hall. Molly froze. Bill’s eyes widened. “They *heard* us,” he whispered. Molly’s grin vanished. “Then we better move fast.” She yanked the window shut with a *thud*, and Bill grabbed the ladder. “Okay, new plan—we *disappear*.” Molly adjusted her mask. “We don’t have time for disappearing. We have to *blend*.” Bill groaned. “You’re *insane*.” “And you’re *useless*,” Molly shot back, already sprinting toward the party. The door burst open, and a group of giggling kids spilled into the hallway. Bill froze. “Oh, *come on*,” Molly muttered, grabbing a nearby trash can. “We’re *not* getting caught.” She hurled the can—*CRASH*—right into the faces of the kids. Chaos erupted. Bill grabbed her arm. “That was *brilliant*,” he said, breathless. “We’re *gold*.” Molly grinned. “We’re *not* getting caught.” And with that, they vanished into the crowd, leaving the kids to wonder if they’d just been robbed—or if they’d been *imagined*.