Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYAWQQ5C41EVDMJHZT628PA

Molly adjusted her ski mask and grinned at Bill, who was already picking the lock on the back door of the community center. "Alright, Bill, you got the lock, I got the distraction. Remember, we’re not here to hurt any kids—just liberate their *future* toys." Bill glanced up, eyebrow raised. "Liberate? Since when do we do noble heists?" "Since I realized we could sell these presents for double on the black market. Kids’ stuff is *gold*, Bill. Unopened, still in boxes, no emotional attachment—perfect." The door clicked open. Bill pushed it ajar, peering inside. "You sure about this? Last time we hit a party, we got chased by a guy in a superhero cape." "Superhero cape?" Molly scoffed. "Please. This is a *children’s birthday party*. The biggest threat is a piñata." A loud crash echoed from the main hall. Bill froze. "Was that—" "Probably just the cake," Molly whispered, already slipping inside. "But if it’s the piñata, we’re *so* stealing it too." Bill followed, muttering, "We are *not* stealing a piñata. That’s a fire hazard." "Everything’s a fire hazard when you’re this good at your job," Molly said, spotting the mountain of presents under the table. "Alright, Bill, grab the bags. And *no* opening any gifts. We are *not* getting into a toy car argument with a six-year-old." Bill sighed. "I *hate* my life."