Run: 2026-02-25-01KJBEP5D1NHZ1JS6GCE8EM8PM

Molly adjusted the heavy binoculars that were duct-taped securely to the end of a wooden broom handle, peering through the scratched lenses at the brightly lit backyard. The van smelled of stale coffee and old grease. "Is the target acquired?" Bill asked, nervously chewing on the plastic cap of his pen. "Target acquired," Molly said, her voice low. "But the security is insane. There are balloons everywhere." "Balloons are a security measure?" "Pop one, the whole room knows you're there. It's acoustic warfare, Bill." Bill nodded slowly, shifting his weight on the uncomfortable van seat. "So we need silent entry. No squeaky shoes." "I brought the socks," Molly said, holding up fuzzy gray slippers. "But the cake is in the way." "The cake?" "It's a three-tier fortress. Chocolate. They'll smell us coming." "We can't steal the cake. It's sticky." "Not the cake, the presents. Under the tree. It's a tactical nightmare." "How many gifts?" "Twelve. Maybe fifteen. One is a bicycle." "A bicycle?" "Yeah, wrapped in paper. It's bulky." "We can't fit a bike in the van." "We deflate the tires. Or we steal the bike and leave the box." "That's messy." "It's a heist, Bill, not a craft show." "What about the parents?" "They're in the kitchen. Drinking wine. Screaming about the piñata." "The piñata is the distraction?" "The piñata is the trap. It's filled with candy, not clues." "Good. I hate clues." "We go in when the music stops." "When the music stops?" "When the DJ cuts the track for the cake cutting. Silence is golden." "Or when the lights go out." "No lights. We need to see the wrapping paper." "What if the lights go out anyway?" "Then we're in the dark with a bunch of screaming toddlers." "That's a hazard." "It's a perk. They scream, we run." "What about the dog?" "The dog?" "There's a dog in the backyard." "Is it a guard dog?" "It's a poodle named Mr. Snuggles." "Mr. Snuggles is not a threat." "He barks at butterflies." "We'll bring treats." "Treats for the dog, treats for the kids?" "We aren't feeding the kids, Bill. We're robbing them." "It feels wrong." "It's insurance fraud. The parents will claim it." "They won't claim it." "They'll say the presents were stolen. They get the insurance money." "We're helping them?" "We're facilitating a payout." "That's... technically true." "Grab the bag. We move in ten." "Ten minutes?" "The music is starting." "I hate the music." "It's a remix of a nursery rhyme." "It's terrifying." "Just stick to the plan." "No stealing the cake." "And no petting the poodle." "Even if he looks cute?" "Especially if he looks cute." "Understood." Molly lowered the binoculars slowly, the metal frame clinking softly against the dashboard. She wiped sweat from her forehead. "Let's get this money." "For the kids?" "For us." "Right."