Run: 2026-02-25-01KJBJXSD8FGQD1C77DX28DNR3

The van smelled of stale pizza. Molly tapped the blueprint against her knee. Outside, Happy Birthday drifted through the tinted windows. "You realize this is morally bankrupt," Bill said, adjusting his neon green tie. "We're stealing from children." "We're stealing from the parents," Molly corrected. "The kids think the presents vanished. It's magic." "It's larceny." "It's redistribution." She pointed to the photo. "Security is keyed to motion. Kids run like maniacs. We time it with the dance floor." Bill frowned. "Cake cutting? Parents are alert." "They fight over the last slice. They won't notice ninjas." Molly grinned. "We need the distraction." "I'm not wearing a ninja suit. I'm wearing a clown tie." "It blends in." "With what? The balloons?" "Yes." Bill sighed. "If we get caught, I'm telling them you made me do it." "You're the getaway driver. You're compromised." Molly checked her watch. "Five minutes. Grab the duffel. We go in through the doggy door." "The doggy door?" "It's the only way. Back door is locked." "I can't fit." "You're not a dog. You're a professional." Bill stood up. "This is the stupidest heist." "It's the most profitable." Molly grabbed her mask. "Ready?" "No." "Fear keeps you sharp." They opened the van. Sugar rushed in. Molly stepped out, checking the perimeter. Bill followed, clutching the bag. "If the dog bites me," Bill whispered, "I'm suing." "Stick to the plan. Cake time is now." They moved toward the house. Shadows lengthened against the lawn. Molly signaled the stop. She listened to the laughter. "Go," she mouthed. Bill crawled toward the flap. He hesitated. "Go!" she hissed. He shoved his head through. It got stuck. "I'm stuck!" he whispered loudly. "Wiggle it!" "I'm not a contortionist!" "You're a raccoon!" He wiggled free, landing in the grass. He stood, brushing dirt off his knees. "Okay. We're in." "Don't celebrate." They crept toward the living room. Presents stacked like a colorful fortress. "Look at that," Bill breathed. "So much plastic." "Focus. Bag it." They filled the duffel. Music swelled. A child screamed. "Did you hear that?" Bill asked. "Leave it in the van." They zipped the bag. Molly grabbed the handle. "Let's move." They turned to leave, but lights flickered on. A small boy stood in the doorway, holding a plastic sword. Bill stammered a lie about being a relative. The boy shook his head, clearly unconvinced by the clown tie. Bill looked at Molly. Molly looked at Bill. "Run," she said. They sprinted out the back door, leaving the party behind.