Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ94GQ2BH4WPBTV4YFYR8D20

A scruffy, nondescript van idles two blocks from a house that’s practically vibrating with the chaotic energy of a child’s birthday party. A luridly coloured bouncing castle inflates rhythmically. A mountain of balloons tied to the mailbox bobs optimistically. Inside, the air is thick with stale coffee and nervous anticipation, punctuated by Bill’s fidgeting. Molly adjusted her comms earpiece, her expression a mask of laser-like concentration as she eyed the distant patio. Sunlight glinted off the plastic wrapping of a veritable Everest of presents, piled high near a sliding glass door. The laughter from inside, a high-pitched symphony of pure, unadulterated joy, felt miles away, both literally and metaphorically. She took a deep breath, the scent of exhaust fumes and desperation a familiar, comforting perfume. The plan was nearly elegant in its surgical simplicity, a testament to her strategic genius, but Bill’s unique brand of enthusiasm always threatened to derail perfection. She pictured the scene inside: the wide-eyed wonder at the cake, the sugary frenzy, the perfect moment of collective inattention she intended to exploit. “You sure this is the right house, Bill?” Molly whispered into her mic, her voice barely audible above the distant party din. Bill, wrestling with a too-tight glove, grinned back. “Positive! Best Christmas EVER!”