Run: 2026-02-26-01KJCS34005QTWVYYPGD1HSKZS

The fluorescent lights of the children’s party buzzed overhead as Molly crouched behind a stack of inflatable unicorns, her eyes darting across the room. Balloons bobbed like oversized jellyfish above tables laden with cupcakes and glittery toys. Bill emerged from the shadows, clutching a duffel bag that looked suspiciously like it had been borrowed from a department store’s clearance bin. “Alright,” Bill said, his voice low but urgent, “the plan’s simple. We hit the gift table first. The kids’ll be distracted by the piñata and the magician’s rabbit, so we’ve got maybe ten minutes before anyone notices.” He adjusted his cap, which had a tiny embroidered chicken on it. “Molly, you’re on lookout. I’ll grab the loot.” Molly rolled her eyes but nodded, adjusting her gloves. “You mean ‘grab’ as in ‘steal,’ right? Because last time you ‘borrowed’ my sister’s wedding ring, she still hasn’t forgiven me.” She paused, then smirked. “But fine, let’s pretend this is a noble cause. Presents for everyone except the kid who brought the moldy fruit cake.” Bill snorted. “Speak for yourself. That cake was a masterpiece. A *scent* masterpiece.” He glanced at the gift table, where a towering pyramid of wrapped boxes stood like a festive Jenga tower. “See that one? The red bow? That’s the target. It’s got the most expensive-looking toy inside—some kind of robot dinosaur. Probably worth more than your entire wardrobe.” Molly leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Robots don’t belong at parties. This is a crime scene, not a tech convention.” She tapped her chin. “What if the parents are too busy taking selfies to notice us? Last week, I saw a guy try to sneak a piñata into a Uber. It fell apart mid-air.” Bill chuckled. “You’re overthinking. We’ll move fast. You distract the adults with the ‘magic trick’—tell them you’re a ‘professional illusionist’—while I slip in, grab the robot, and exit through the back door. Easy peasy.” “Easy peasy,” Molly echoed, though her fingers twitched nervously. “Unless someone decides to blow up the piñata early. Then we’re all screwed.” “Then we’ll blame the magician,” Bill said, grinning. “He’s got a history of explosive mishaps. Remember when he turned the rabbit into confetti?” Molly groaned. “That rabbit was *fine*. But fine, let’s say we’re prepared for explosions. What’s the backup plan if the parents show up?” Bill shrugged. “We tell them we’re ‘volunteers’ helping set up. If they ask questions, we say we’re ‘really into party logistics.’ Simple.” A toddler wailed nearby, followed by laughter. Molly checked her watch. “Ten minutes. Let’s move before the magician starts sawing a child in half. Or worse—starting a conga line.” Bill laughed, slinging the duffel over his shoulder. “Ready to rob a birthday?” “Ready to rob a birthday,” Molly agreed, slipping into the crowd. Her heart raced, equal parts thrill and dread. The gifts glinted under the lights, each one a potential trophy. Somewhere, a kid sneezed into a unicorn head. The heist had begun.