Run: 2026-03-18-01KM07BKTPCVSEA6D5MEEHR6CK

The rain lashed against the windows of the rundown apartment like a disgruntled toddler hurling toys. Molly hunched over a crumpled napkin, scribbling on it with a crayon they’d swiped from a diner. Bill leaned back in his creaking chair, balancing a takeout bag of questionable meatballs on his knee. "You sure about this?" Bill asked, popping a meatball into his mouth. Molly didn’t look up. "Kid’s party. Cake. Balloons. Weeks of presents stacked under a folding table like they’re begging to be liberated." Bill wiped grease off his chin. "That’s a lot of glitter and unicorns between us and ten grand in toys." Molly tossed the crayon onto the napkin. The words *Ski School Security* were written in jagged letters. "Ski School’s a decoy. The real score’s at the *Winter Carnival Party* at the community center. Two security guards, one drunk bouncer, and a room full of exhausted parents who won’t notice us until we’re out the back door." Bill burst into laughter. "Exhausted parents? You make it sound like they’re hibernating." Molly grinned. "They will be by the time the glitter cannon goes off." Bill wiped his fingers on his shirt. "And the presents?" "Stacked in a pyramid. Easy access. Easy stealth." Bill chewed thoughtfully. "And the alarm?" Molly tap-tap-tapped the napkin. "I hacked the admin’s phone. Passcode’s *1234*—because who in their right mind would use that?" Bill snorted. "Someone who doesn’t own a lock or a spine." Molly ignored him. "We go in at 7:58. Cake’s served at 8: sharp. Everyone’s distracted. We sneak under the table, load up the duffels, and exit through the side door. Autocorrect’s already set to ‘storm drain’ on my phone." Bill raised an eyebrow. "Storm drain?" "It’s a ruse. If we gotta run, we pretend we’re fixing a plumbing issue." Bill shook his head. "This plan is terrible." Molly shrugged. "It’s elegant. No cutting wires, no dramatics. Just grinning, grabbing, and gloving up before anyone realizes presents are missing." Bill sighed, took another meatball. "What if the kids start a chant?" Molly smirked. "Then we join in. Distract the crowd. Make it look like we’re just family trying to keep the energy up." Bill wiped his hands on his pants. "We’re not family." Molly grinned. "We will be by the time we leave. Dress warm. It’s January. And wear comfortable shoes."