Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYB5CBT0YZ7XK2K5SVQ5FF9

The back alley behind the community center smelled like burnt hot dogs and regret, the kind of regret that comes from realizing you’ve just agreed to rob a children’s birthday party. Molly adjusted her ski mask, the elastic digging into her forehead like a guilty conscience, and lit a cigarette with a shaking hand. Bill leaned against the dumpster, arms crossed, his breath fogging in the cold air. “You sure this is the right place?” Molly exhaled a stream of smoke, watching it curl toward the sky like a surrender flag. “Last I checked, kids’ parties don’t exactly scream *high-stakes heist material*.” Bill pushed off the dumpster and stepped into her personal space, close enough that she could smell the cheap cologne he’d sprayed on to mask the fact that he’d been living in a cardboard box for three weeks. “Listen, Molly, I’ve done my research. This isn’t just any party. This is *The Birthday Bash Extravaganza*, hosted by some rich asshole named Gary who’s got a vault full of uncut diamonds hidden under the piñata table.” Molly blinked. “You’re telling me we’re breaking into a kids’ party to steal *diamonds*?” “No, I’m telling you we’re breaking into a kids’ party to steal *presents*.” Bill pulled out a crumpled flyer from his pocket and smoothed it out with dramatic flair. “See? ‘Gary’s 40th Birthday Bash—Kids Welcome!’ Classic diversion. While the parents are distracted by cake and balloon animals, we hit the gift table like vultures at a buffet.” Molly stared at the flyer, then at Bill, then back at the flyer. “Gary’s *forty*?” “Yeah, and he’s got more money than sense. The guy’s got a *piñata shaped like a safe*.” Molly groaned, rubbing her temples. “We are *so* getting arrested.” “Nah, we’re getting *rich*.” Bill grinned, pulling out a pair of latex gloves and snapping them on like he was about to perform surgery. “I’ve got the layout. The presents are under the table, wrapped in shiny paper like they’re already begging to be stolen. We go in, we grab, we go out—” “Before the kids realize we’re not the clown?” “Exactly.” Bill nodded sagely. “And if we get caught, we’ll just tell them we’re *undercover detectives* investigating *present theft*. Kids love that shit.” Molly took another drag off her cigarette, the nicotine doing little to calm her nerves. “You realize if we get caught, we’re gonna have to explain why two adults in ski masks are running out of a kids’ party with a duffel bag full of Barbie dolls and Lego sets.” “Details.” Bill waved a hand dismissively. “We’ll say we’re *collectors*. Rare toys, high demand on the black market.” Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. “Bill, I don’t think Barbie dolls are exactly black market currency.” “Not yet, but they will be.” Bill’s eyes gleamed with the kind of madness that only comes from too much caffeine and not enough sleep. “Trust me, Molly. This is the easiest score we’ve ever done. Kids, parents, clowns—everyone’s too busy having fun to notice two suspicious-looking adults lurking near the punch bowl.” Molly exhaled sharply, the last of her cigarette smoke dissolving into the night air. “Fine. But if I get fingerprinted for grand larceny because some five-year-old recognized me from the DMV, I’m haunting you.” Bill clapped her on the back, nearly knocking her over. “You got it, partner. Now let’s go case the joint before the cake gets eaten.” Molly glared at him as they crept toward the back door, the sound of laughter and music spilling out into the alley. “If this goes south, I’m blaming you.” “Deal.” Bill pulled out a lockpick set with the enthusiasm of a kid on Christmas morning. “But if it goes *north*, we’re splitting that piñata safe into *four* equal parts.” Molly sighed, watching as Bill jiggled the lock with the focus of a man who had never once in his life considered the possibility of failure. “You’re insane.” “And you love me.” Bill grinned, the lock clicking open with a sound that was almost as loud as Molly’s groan. “Now let’s rob this party.”