Run: 2026-02-26-01KJBM4CZ8P3X4095QPHFMVVHD

Molly adjusted the binoculars, squinting at the house across the street. The inflatable bouncy castle glowed pink under the floodlights. Bill sat on the hood of the van, picking at a thread on his jacket. The night air smelled of cut grass and vanilla frosting. Streetlights flickered overhead, casting long shadows. "Do you see that?" Molly whispered. "That is a Lego Star Wars set. Limited edition." "I see a six-year-old named Timmy eating cake," Bill said, wiping frosting off his chin. "Why are we stealing from a kid's birthday?" "Because the insurance payout on unregistered toys is higher than the loot itself," Molly explained, tapping her tablet. "Plus, the parents are distracted by the clown." "The clown is holding a knife," Bill noted, pointing. "That's a balloon animal knife. It's safe," Molly dismissed. "We need to hit the gift table before the piñata breaks." "Piñatas are a security risk," Bill argued. "Kids swing sticks. That's violence." "It's a distraction," Molly corrected. "When the sugar rush hits, we slip in the back door. You take the drones, I take the dolls." "I don't want dolls," Bill said, shuddering. "I want the remote control cars." "You get the cars, I get the action figures," Molly negotiated. "We split the cash from the gift cards." "What about the parents?" Bill asked, looking nervous. "The dad has a beard like a pirate." "He's on the phone," Molly checked her watch. "He's arguing with his wife about the cake budget. Perfect." "And the mom?" "Taking photos for Instagram," Molly grinned. "She won't notice until the box is empty." "This feels wrong," Bill muttered, standing up. "Stealing from children." "It's not stealing," Molly insisted, zipping up her bag. "It's redistribution of wealth. Kids don't need all this plastic anyway." "Timmy needs that train set," Bill countered. "He's been saving for months." "Timmy will get a new one," Molly said coldly. "We need the money for the getaway van." "The van is already paid for," Bill reminded her. "The van needs new tires," Molly lied. "High-performance tires." "You're lying," Bill accused. "I'm optimizing," Molly corrected. "Ready the grappling hook." "For a suburban lawn?" Bill laughed. "I have a ladder in the trunk." "Use the ladder," Molly sighed. "Just don't drop the presents." "What if the clown sees us?" "Then we give him a balloon," Molly said. "He'll be too busy popping it." "You're crazy," Bill said, opening the van door. "Absolutely crazy." "That's why I'm the boss," Molly replied, climbing in after him. "Drive." The engine hummed as the distant party music swelled. Molly checked the rearview mirror one last time. Bill adjusted his seatbelt with a heavy sigh. The van rolled forward silently. Shadows stretched long across the pavement as they moved. The tires crunched softly on gravel. Molly gripped the steering wheel tight.