Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYAD68VJKW0WA4TA5TF0JR8

The neon glow of the party hall pulsed like a bioluminescent warning sign, casting jagged shadows across the polished floor. Molly adjusted her gloves—too tight, but better than nothing—and peered through the window, her breath fogging the glass. "Bill, you’re *not* wearing a mask," she muttered, though she knew he’d already forgotten. Bill grinned, his teeth too white, his eyes too bright. "Relax, Molly. I’m the *face* of this operation. The kids will love me." He flexed his fingers, already unzipping his jacket. "Besides, if they see a masked guy, they’ll start screaming. We need *charisma*." Molly rolled her eyes. "You’re a disaster. What if they ask for your name?" "Then I’ll say, ‘Bill the Brave.’" He clapped his hands together. "And if they ask for my age? ‘Oh, I’m *very* old.’" Molly groaned. "You’re impossible." "Nah, I’m *perfect*." Bill pulled out his phone, scrolling through a list of partygoers. "First target: the guy with the gold watch. He’s got a safe. Probably full of candy bars." Molly scoffed. "You’re *not* counting on that." "Counting on what?" Bill asked, already mid-stride toward the door. "On you getting caught." She grabbed his arm. "We’re not just stealing presents. We’re *stealing* the *experience* of childhood. The joy. The *sugar rush*." Bill laughed, a sound like a wind chime in a hurricane. "Oh, Molly, you’re *so* dramatic." He yanked her along. "Come on, or I’ll have to *kidnap* you first." The door creaked open, and they slipped inside, the scent of cotton candy and laughter thick in the air. Molly’s stomach twisted. "We’re *doomed*." Bill grinned. "Nah. We’re *legendary*." He pointed at a table laden with wrapped gifts. "First move: distract the parents. Then we *steal*." Molly hesitated. "What if someone sees us?" "Then we’ll say we’re *volunteers*." Bill’s eyes gleamed. "We’ll have a *story*." Molly sighed. "You’re *insane*." "Nah, I’m *brilliant*." He grabbed a nearby chair, flipping it over with a dramatic flourish. "Let’s go, *thieves*." The partygoers turned, confused, as the chair crashed to the floor. Molly’s heart pounded. "We’re *not* doing this." Bill winked. "Too late." He grabbed a gift bag, already yanking it open. "First present—*guaranteed* to be a *hit*." Molly lunged, but it was too late. The bag was already in his pocket. "Bill!" "Shhh!" He pressed a finger to his lips. "We’re *in*." And just like that, the greatest heist of all time began—one that would leave the kids with nothing but empty boxes and a very confused teacher.