Run: 2026-02-25-01KJBF4GYA99YR130VZ85HBGC1

The night air was cool and smelled of cut grass. Molly crouched behind the hydrangeas, peering through the window where a clown was inflating balloons. The suburban street was quiet, save for the distant wail of a saxophone. She tapped Bill on the shoulder with a crowbar. "Look at that," she whispered. "That's a PlayStation five in a pink box. Pure gold." Bill adjusted his turtleneck, which was tight for a stealth mission. "We can't leave the PlayStations. They're heavy, but the resale value is insane. Grab the big ones and leave the action figures." "The action figures are plastic, Bill. They melt in the heat of the getaway car," Molly argued, checking her watch. "We have twenty minutes before the cake comes out. Once the cake comes out, the parents wake up from their nap." "The parents are napping?" Bill asked, his eyes widening behind his sunglasses. "I thought they were watching the kids." "They're watching the kids, but they're asleep while they're watching them. It's a suburban thing," Molly explained. She pulled a laser cutter from her belt. "I need you to handle the fence. It's decorative, not structural. A little nudge and it falls." "I hate fences," Bill grumbled, stepping over a garden gnome. "They always fall on my foot. Last time, it was a plastic flamingo." "This time it's a picket fence. No flamingos. Just wood and nails," Molly said. She pointed to the sliding glass door. "I'll cut the lock. You create the diversion. Throw a rock at the window?" "I can't throw rocks," Bill said. "I have arthritis in my wrist. Remember the vault job in Jersey?" "That was a safe deposit box, Bill. This is a birthday party," Molly snapped. "Throw a balloon. They love balloons. It'll look like a gift from the sky." "A gift from the sky," Bill repeated, testing the weight of a rock in his hand. "I feel like a gift giver. I hate being a gift giver." "You're not giving, you're stealing," Molly corrected. She stood up and brushed dirt off her knees. "Ready?" "Ready," Bill said. He took a deep breath. "What if there's a piñata?" "If there's a piñata, we hit it first," Molly said. "Sugar is heavy. We need the candy." "Sugar is heavy," Bill agreed. He stepped onto the lawn. "I'm going in. Wish me luck." "Don't get caught," Molly said. "If you get caught, I'm leaving you there." "Fair enough," Bill replied. He kicked the gate. It swung open with a squeak. "I think I broke the hinge." "Just walk," Molly whispered. "Don't run. Running makes you look guilty." "I always look guilty," Bill muttered. He walked slowly toward the sliding door. "Is the clown still in there?" "Yes. He's eating a cupcake," Molly said. "He's distracted." "Perfect," Bill said. He reached for the handle. "Get these toys before the kid blows out the candles." "Exactly," Molly said. "No candles. Just loot." She looked nervous. He nodded slowly. The wind blew hard. They waited in silence. The house was dark. She checked her gear. Molly smiled as the door clicked open silently.