Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYA9176JZ0V0GEPDNQT3CDS

The backseat of Bill’s rusted-out van smelled like stale coffee and regret, which, honestly, was an improvement over the last job where it had smelled like regret and *also* regret. Molly adjusted her ski mask—black, because subtlety was the name of the game—and leaned back against the headrest, kicking her feet up on the dashboard. “You’re sure this is the right house?” she asked, peeling a gum wrapper off her finger and flicking it at Bill’s shoulder. It stuck. Bill didn’t even flinch. “Positive. Mrs. Henderson’s kid’s birthday. *‘A Magical Unicorn Adventure Party,’* according to the invite. Which, by the way, is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” “Better than last time when we hit the *‘Gentlemen’s Poker Night’* at the country club,” Molly said, nodding. “At least here, the security’s gonna be a bunch of parents too busy herding toddlers to notice us.” Bill grinned, adjusting the fake mustache he’d taped over his upper lip. “Exactly. And the presents? Top-tier loot. Dolls, action figures, *a pony.*” Molly gasped. “A *pony?*” “Not a real one, obviously. But the kid’s gonna cry when we take it.” “Good. Kids are dramatic. Makes our job easier.” Bill pulled out a folded map and smoothed it on his lap. “Alright, here’s the plan. We go in as *‘aunties’*—” “Aunties?” Molly scoffed. “We look like we just robbed a bank.” “We *did* rob a bank,” Bill pointed out. “But we’re gonna play it off like we’re here for the *‘special cupcake delivery.’*” Molly groaned. “There’s no such thing.” “Exactly! So if anyone asks, we’re *very* confused but *very* committed to the bit.” She considered this. “Fine. But if I have to explain why we’re carrying crowbars in our purses, I’m throwing you under the bus.” Bill clapped his hands together. “Perfect. And while the parents are distracted by the *‘pin the tail on the donkey’* game—” “Which, by the way, is a *terrible* security measure,” Molly interrupted. “—we slip into the gift room, grab everything, and make our escape before the piñata gets smashed.” Molly raised an eyebrow. “You’re assuming the piñata *won’t* get smashed.” “Fair. But if it does, we’ll use that as a distraction. Chaos is our friend.” She nodded, then suddenly sat up straight. “Wait. What if the kid’s *allergic to something?*” Bill blinked. “Like what?” “Like, I don’t know, *balloons?*” “Balloons don’t kill people.” “You sure?” “Positive.” Molly sighed. “Fine. But if we accidentally murder a seven-year-old, I’m blaming you.” Bill laughed, revving the engine. “Relax. We’re professionals. This’ll be a walk in the park.” Molly eyed the crowbar in her lap. “Says the guy who once got caught stealing a single cookie from a gas station.” “That was *one time!* And the cookie was *stale!*” She smirked. “Alright, let’s do this. But if I get arrested, I’m telling them you made me.” Bill grinned, pulling the van into the street. “Deal. But if *you* get arrested, I’m telling them you *planned the whole thing.*” Molly groaned as they rolled up to the house, where a rainbow balloon arch stretched over the front door and the sound of children screaming in delight filled the air. “God help us,” she muttered. Bill adjusted his mustache. “No, *God help the presents.*”