Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYA6RJ2RRW293XJFDT3EK3Z

The rain hammered against the corrugated iron roof of the abandoned laundromat, each drop a tiny, insistent drumbeat. Molly, a whirlwind of frantic energy in a leopard-print jumpsuit, was pacing, kicking at a discarded dryer drum. Bill, permanently slumped in a rusty armchair, was meticulously polishing a pair of miniature lock picks with a silk handkerchief. “Okay, okay, let’s go over this one more time,” Molly said, her voice tight with barely suppressed excitement. “Little Timmy’s fifth birthday. Pink and blue streamers, a bouncy castle shaped like a dinosaur…and a frankly obscene amount of poorly wrapped presents.” Bill grunted, not looking up. “Obscene is a strong word, Molly. Let’s stick with ‘significant.’” “Significant is an understatement, Bill! We’re talking a veritable mountain of plastic dinosaurs, sparkly ponies, and enough miniature tool sets to make a small construction worker weep with joy. The target is the entire freaking collection.” “Right. The collection. And the security situation?” He finally glanced up, his expression skeptical. “Little kids and a sugar-fueled birthday party aren’t exactly Fort Knox." “That’s what makes it brilliant! They’re distracted. Mom’s trying to keep the glitter contained, Dad’s wrestling with the dinosaur bouncy castle, and the kids are simultaneously demanding cake and a teacup. It's chaos! Perfect chaos.” Molly punctuated her statement by throwing her hands up in dramatic fashion. “Chaos is a logistical nightmare. I need predictability. Numbers. Patterns.” Bill inserted the pick into a tiny, hidden compartment in the handkerchief case. “How many presents are we estimating?” “Let’s say… fifty? Sixty? Possibly seventy if Mrs. Henderson decided to go all out on the Lego sets. The point is, we grab what we can carry. Lightweight. Shiny. Things kids want.” “You’re prioritizing shiny things. That’s… concerning.” “It’s efficient! Look, we’ve got the inflatable dragon as a distraction. I’m rigging it with a small, silent alarm – just to keep things interesting. And you’re on the locks. Mrs. Henderson’s back door is notoriously tricky. I’ve spent the last three days photographing it.” Molly unfurled a heavily annotated blueprint. “See? Triple Yale lock, reinforced hinges, a motion sensor that probably detects sadness. Not a problem.” “Sadness?” Bill questioned, raising an eyebrow. “That's a new addition.” “Details, details. The alarm will momentarily disable the sensor. It's a fifteen-second window. That's all we need." “Fifteen seconds to wrestle seventy presents out of a party? You’re asking a lot of lock picks, Molly.” “Don't underestimate my lock picks! And don't underestimate my enthusiasm. Just… stay calm. Don't get distracted by the cake. Focus on the locks.” “Cake is a very real and present danger,” Bill mumbled, returning to his polishing. “Listen, are we getting disguises? Because I was thinking a pair of oversized bunny slippers and a pink tutu.” Molly stared at him. “Bill, absolutely not. We’re going in as…friendly relatives. Beige tracksuits. It’s crucial.” “Beige. Right. Beige. Makes perfect sense.” He gave a small, defeated sigh. “Just promise me, no glitter.”