Run: 2026-03-11-01KKFC82TJ4G3Y4E4V5A2BT1DH

The neon hum of the projector light cut through the night, cutting a stark tunnel into the home of the well-to-do Jackson. Cold rain pattered against the glass, but Molly smoothed the collar of her tuxedo pants, though from the waist up she was wearing nothing but a silk sash that felt very much like a bruise against the skin. Bill whispered his plan into her left ear while chewing on a loose string of evidence pulled from the evidence bag. He looked like a squirrel in a lab coat. The package was tight. "Right, now," Molly whispered, tapping the window frame gently. "System remains undetected until the projector loads." "Blood is thinner here, Bill," her voice crackled low, though she wouldn't admit it. "This isn't a bank." Bill adjusted his thick glasses, looking at the party pile before him. "It is a fortress of capitalism disguised as celebration. Look at the bait." "Is it a trap?" she asked, eyeing the giant candy bowl on the table. "No trap, just toys," he replied quickly. "Candy corn." "Static clearance?" Molly tapped her wristwatch screen. "Low security," said Bill. "They threw confetti close enough. Convenient." "Why is this so much simpler?" "Because they are distracted by cake," Bill said gravely, leaning forward. "A mistake is theirs, my dear." Molly held her breath as the children quieted down for the song, their voices muffled by the walls. It was a dangerous peace, a lullaby for crime. "Wait. What about the present list?" "I have a clip." "Don't clip anything, unless it is useful." "Okay, okay. Let's move slow." "I heard a birthday song that sounds too loud." "And a cow is bleating outside." "Why is there a cow?" "Don't ask, just grab the loot." Molly crawled through the window, her shadow falling on the plush carpet of the living room. The pile of presents was glorious, a pyramid of colored paper towering high on the coffee table. It smelled heavily of plastic. "Bill, I see the loot!" "Careful," Molly whispered sharply. "They can hear us." "I am careful, I am stealthy," Bill replied. "We do this for the irony." "Yes, the jewelry in the pantry." "There is nothing but trivial objects," Bill said with a nod. Molly reached for a video game box. "Bill, stop!" "Wait! Do not touch the trigger." "What is that control?" "The case of children." Molly pulled back slowly. "Oh, we are done?" "We are padding psalms," Bill said. They stood quiet, the room blinking with light. The clock ticked.