Run: 2026-02-25-01KJBDYAWHQXZ4XSTR2TVKPP5X

Molly unfolded the greasy map across the dashboard of the rusted van. The streetlights flickered above the parked vehicle, casting long shadows against the brick wall. “So the target is the living room?” Bill asked, adjusting his beanie tightly against his ears. “Correct,” Molly said, pointing to a red circle drawn in marker. “All presents are stacked near the tree. High visibility, easy access.” Bill frowned deeply, his eyes narrowing as he studied the paper. “It’s a children’s party, Molly. There are parents everywhere watching.” “Parents are predictable,” she replied, tapping the glass with a manicured nail. “They will be distracted by cake and bad punch.” “What about the security?” Bill leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Do they have cameras?” “No cameras,” Molly said, shaking her head slowly. “But they have a dog. A poodle named Mr. Snuffles.” Bill laughed loudly, the sound echoing in the small space. “A poodle? That’s not a security risk.” “Mr. Snuffles is trained,” she insisted, her voice dropping an octave. “He barks at intruders. He is a silent alarm with fur.” “We can’t fight a dog, Molly.” “We won’t fight him. We will bribe him.” She pulled a bag of treats from her pocket and tossed it. “Beef jerky. His favorite.” Bill stared at the bag, catching it with one hand. “You brought dog treats to a heist?” “Preparation is key,” she said, wiping grease from her hands. “You will handle the animal. I will handle the loot.” “What kind of loot?” Bill asked, catching the jerky and inspecting the label. “It’s a seven-year-old’s birthday.” “Video games,” Molly said, turning to face him. “And expensive building blocks. We sell them on the black market.” “The black market for Legos?” Bill shook his head in disbelief. “That sounds ridiculous.” “Everything sounds ridiculous until you have the cash,” she countered, leaning back in the seat. “Then it sounds like genius.” Bill looked out the window at the dark street. “I still think this is a bad idea. What if a parent sees us?” “Then we run,” Molly said simply, gripping the steering wheel. “We are fast. You are fast. The van is fast.” “The van has a broken muffler,” Bill pointed out, looking under the dashboard. “Details,” she dismissed, waving a hand. “Focus on the objective. We enter, we grab, we leave.” “Before the cake?” Bill asked, checking his watch. “Before the cake,” Molly confirmed, starting the engine. “The cake is the distraction. The parents will be eating. We will be stealing.” “And the dog?” “You have the jerky. You are the dog whisperer.” Bill sighed heavily, closing his eyes for a moment. “I am not a dog whisperer. I am a thief.” “Tonight you are both,” Molly said, shifting gears. “Get in the back. We are moving.” Bill climbed into the dark space behind the seats. “I hate this job.” “You love the money,” Molly called over her shoulder. “I love the money,” Bill admitted, zipping his jacket. “But I hate the dog.” “Mr. Snuffles is just doing his job,” Molly said, checking the mirrors. “Like us.” “Exactly,” Bill muttered, pulling the duffel bag closer. “We are the bad guys.” “We are professionals,” she corrected, turning the key. “Now shut up and check the bag.” Bill zipped the duffel bag shut. “It’s empty.” “Good,” Molly said, pulling away from the curb. “Now we fill it.” “With what?” “With presents,” she said, merging into traffic. “Now drive.” “You’re driving,” Bill said, buckling his seatbelt. “I know,” Molly replied, smiling in the dark. “That is why I am driving.”