Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY9HC0NTQ1195V2C2YVN1B7

The neon glow of the party’s disco ball flickered against the grimy window of the alley, casting jagged shadows across Molly’s face as she adjusted her scarf—*just in case*—while Bill leaned against the dumpster, arms crossed, eyes locked on the front door of the gleaming mansion. “You’re sure this is the right place?” Bill asked, voice dripping with skepticism. “Last time we checked, the security system was a *very* convincing alarm.” Molly rolled her eyes, though she didn’t turn around. “It’s the *same* house. Same address. Same *annual* birthday bash for the kids of the local elite. You think they’re gonna let us in by accident?” Bill exhaled through his nose. “I think they’re gonna let us in *anyway* because we’re wearing masks and carrying a fake police badge.” “And a *very* convincing fake badge,” Molly muttered, tossing him a crumpled ID. “You’re the one who insisted on the ‘emergency’ excuse.” “Emergency? That’s what they call it when you’re *actually* in an emergency,” Bill grumbled, flipping through the fake doc. “‘We need to retrieve the missing birthday presents before the kids realize we’re here.’ Classic.” Molly smirked. “Classic *disaster*.” She grabbed her picklocks and slung them over her shoulder. “Let’s go before the cops start noticing the *lack* of presents.” The front door creaked open before they even reached it, and there stood the party’s host—a woman in a sequined dress who looked like she’d been straight out of a *Barbie* movie. “Oh! You must be the *very* special guests!” she chirped, her voice like a broken kazoo. “Come on in! The kids are already *begging* for your autographs!” Bill groaned. “We’re not here for autographs.” Molly shot him a look. “We’re here for *presents*.” The woman’s eyes widened. “Oh! Right! Well, *come on*—” Before she could finish, Bill lunged, tackling her into the nearest potted plant. It exploded in a shower of soil and confetti, and the partygoers—mostly kids in glittery costumes—screamed and scattered like startled rabbits. “Now *that’s* an emergency!” Molly hissed, grabbing a nearby cake box and shoving it into her bag. “We’re outta here before they call the *real* cops.” Bill was already sprinting toward the alley, but his foot caught on a loose floorboard. He yelped, twisting awkwardly, and the fake badge slipped from his pocket—right into the hands of a very confused security guard who was now standing in the middle of the dance floor, holding a *very* real badge. Molly didn’t hesitate. She grabbed Bill’s arm and *yanked*. “Move it!” They bolted, the sound of sirens blaring in the distance. Behind them, the host of the party—now wearing a very confused expression—shouted, “I *told* you not to wear masks!”