Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYB676P04WQPP07YWQ5X69X

The warehouse was dim, lit only by the flickering glow of a single bulb dangling from a rusted chain. Molly adjusted her ski mask, her gloved fingers tapping nervously against the velvet pouch at her belt. Bill leaned against a stack of crates, arms crossed, his grin sharp as a switchblade. "You sure about this?" Molly hissed, eyeing the blueprint spread across a grease-stained table. "Kids, candy, *presents*? That’s not exactly our usual gig." Bill chuckled, flipping a lockpick between his fingers. "Relax, Mol. It’s not like we’re robbing a bank. These rich kids’ parents are gonna be *devastated* when they wake up to empty stockings. Tragic, really." Molly groaned, rubbing her temples. "We’re stealing *toys*. *Action figures*. A *pink unicorn* that some kid’s been begging for since Christmas." "Exactly!" Bill clapped his hands. "Imagine the look on their faces. The wails, the tears—*gold*." She shot him a glare. "We’re monsters." "Professional *gift-takers*," he corrected, pulling a toy soldier from his pocket. "And this little guy’s got a *lot* to answer for." Molly sighed, peering at the blueprint again. "Fine. But if we get caught, I’m blaming you for the *SpongeBob*." Bill grinned, tossing the soldier back into his pocket. "Deal. Now let’s go make some kids very, *very* sad."