Run: 2026-02-25-01KJBJMMW6FDYVKQV96TC8Z8S2

The van hummed softly, a low vibration that matched the nervous energy radiating from Bill’s hands. He adjusted his tie for the third time, staring out the tinted window at the suburban house glowing with fairy lights. Inside, the sounds of laughter and plastic clattering drifted through the open window like a siren song. Molly leaned back against the driver’s seat, checking the thermal imaging tablet. She didn’t look up at the flashing lights of the party. "The perimeter is clear," she said, her voice dry as dust. "But there are three parents in the kitchen. One is holding a cake." Bill muttered something about distractions and tapped his pen against his chin. He needed the loot, not the frosting. Molly finally looked at him, her eyes sharp in the dashboard glow. "It’s the principle, Molly. Unregulated commerce." Bill stood up, knocking his knee against the dashboard. "I’m going in through the window. You handle the extraction." "Treats." Bill pulled a bag of jerky from his pocket. "I bribed it earlier. It’s a golden retriever named Buster. He loves snacks." Molly sighed, closing the tablet. The absurdity of the situation weighed heavy on her shoulders. They were criminals of some repute, not scavengers of wrapping paper. But the thrill was there, the absurdity of it all. She gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white. "You bribed a dog with beef jerky to steal birthday presents? That’s your master plan?" "It’s a solid plan. Dogs love jerky. Humans love presents. We love the resale value." Bill opened the van door, the hinges creaking loudly in the quiet night. "Stay here. If the cake guy comes out, run." "I’m not running. I’m driving." Molly grabbed the keys. "And if you get caught, I’m leaving you there." "Fair enough." Bill stepped out into the garden, his boots sinking into the soft grass. He checked his watch. "Five minutes. We need to be gone before the piñata drops." He moved toward the side of the house, creeping past a sprinkler system that misted the air with cold water. The window was unlocked, a rookie mistake by the homeowners. He pried it open, the glass sliding up with a satisfying groan. Inside, the air smelled of frosting and cheap perfume. The tree was a forest of shiny paper and ribbons. Molly watched through the rearview mirror as Bill slipped inside. She waited, counting the seconds until the engine roared back to life. The silence stretched long and thin between them, filled only by the hum of the idling engine and the distant wail of a child crying over a broken toy. The streetlights flickered overhead as they merged onto the main road. "Bill," she whispered into the comms. "You’re in." "Affirmative. The loot is substantial. Mostly toys and a lot of socks." "Socks are liquid assets." "I’ll take them." Bill’s voice crackled. "I’m heading back. Don’t start the engine yet." Bill emerged from the house, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He hopped into the passenger seat, slamming the door. Molly put the van in gear. They sped away, leaving the party behind them in a cloud of exhaust and confusion. Bill opened the bag, revealing a mountain of cotton and wool. Molly checked her rearview mirror one last time.