Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY9VWPRG8PW81XFFQR6ZFZ0

The neon glow of the party store’s sign flickered like a dying firefly as Molly adjusted her oversized bowtie, the plastic bow wobbling precariously. "You sure this is the place?" she muttered, eyeing the inflatable unicorn bobbing in the breeze outside. "Last time we hit a toy store, we got chased by a guy in a superhero cape. That was *not* fun." Bill, crouched behind a potted palm, didn’t look up from his lockpick kit. "Relax. This isn’t a toy store. It’s a *children’s party supply depot*. Big difference." He tapped the glass door with a gloved finger. "See that? ‘Gifts Under $20’ sign? That’s our jackpot." Molly squinted. "So we’re stealing from kids?" "Technically, we’re stealing from *parents* who spent way too much on glittery nonsense their kids will lose in a week." Bill straightened, adjusting his fake mustache—glued on crookedly, as usual. "Besides, these presents are *already* stolen. From the economy. From sanity. From the poor souls who’ll have to listen to ‘Baby Shark’ on repeat for the next decade." A car door slammed nearby. Molly’s head snapped toward the sound. "Or from *us*, if we get caught." Bill sighed, pulling a lollipop from his pocket and popping it into his mouth. "You’re no fun. Here." He tossed her a matching candy. "Distraction tactic. Walk in like you own the place." Molly caught the lollipop, eyeing it suspiciously. "This is cherry. I hate cherry." "Then you’ll be *extra* convincing." Bill grinned, already pushing open the door. "Smile. Act natural. And whatever you do, don’t mention the word ‘balloons.’" The bell above the door jingled as they stepped inside, the scent of plastic and sugar assaulting their noses. A woman in a pastel tracksuit looked up from behind the counter, her nametag reading *DARLA (PARTY QUEEN)*. "Can I help you?" Molly plastered on her most innocent grin, which was still terrifyingly effective. "Oh, hi! We’re looking for… uh…" She glanced at Bill, who was already browsing the aisles like a man who had never stolen a thing in his life. "Party favors," Bill said smoothly, holding up a bag of confetti. "For my niece’s birthday. She’s *very* particular." Darla’s eyes softened. "Aww, that’s sweet! You know, we just got in a new batch of goodie bags. Want me to show you?" Molly’s stomach dropped. *Goodie bags.* That meant *presents.* That meant— Bill, ever the opportunist, nodded eagerly. "That’d be great! Molly here is *very* picky about her niece’s aesthetic." Molly shot him a look. "I am *not*—" "She’s got *very* strong opinions," Bill pressed, steering Darla toward the back. "Like, if the bags aren’t *just right*, she’ll cry." Molly groaned, but followed, already scanning the shelves for the most valuable-looking loot. A stack of tablets caught her eye. "Oh, *please* tell me those are for kids." Bill smirked. "Darla, do you have any of those… *educational* tablets? You know, the ones that teach kids how to code?" Darla beamed. "Oh, we’ve got those! Right over here!" She led them to a display where a dozen tablets sat, untouched and gleaming. "They’re a huge hit. Parents love them." Molly’s fingers twitched. "They’re *expensive* hits." Bill leaned in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, Molly’s niece *really* wants one. She’s been *dying* for a tablet. It’s her *biggest* wish." Darla clutched her chest. "Aww, that’s so sweet! You know what? I’ll throw one in for free. On the house!" Molly’s eyes widened. "You don’t have to—" Bill cut her off with a pat on the back. "That’s *so* generous! Molly, say thank you." Molly forced a smile. "Thank you. You’re *the* best." As Darla turned to grab the tablet, Bill subtly nudged Molly toward the back door. "We’ll just… take one. For the niece." Molly hesitated. "We can’t just—" "Relax. We’ll leave a note." Bill pulled a pen from his pocket and scribbled on a napkin: *"Sorry, but your kid’s future as a hacker is more important. –The Nice Guys."* He tucked it under the tablet’s box. Darla returned, handing over the tablet. "Here you go! And here’s your receipt." Bill took it, already scanning the room for the exit. "You’re a lifesaver, Darla!" Molly grabbed the tablet, but as they turned to leave, her eye caught a pile of wrapped presents under the counter. "Wait—" Bill yanked her toward the door. "We’re good. We got the *main* prize." Molly hesitated, then sighed. "Fine. But next time, we’re hitting a *toy* store. At least then we can justify it as ‘redistributing joy.’" Bill opened the door, the bell jingling behind them. "Deal. But only if we can blame it on the superhero guy."