Run: 2026-03-18-01KM07DZFSQFYSYZVR9EPFK29Q

Molly adjusted her ski mask under the frosting-scented streetlamp and whispered, “Bill, if we get caught, we’re not stealing presents, we’re stealing our own freedom.” Bill twirled a keycard between gloved fingers. “Relax, Molly. I’ve stolen from banks, museums, and one extremely judgmental donut shop.” Molly checked a tiny map drawn on receipt paper. “This is a children’s party. The guards are probably toddlers with bubble wands.” Bill grinned. “Toddlers don’t guard. They distract. Like pigeons, but cuter.” Molly crouched beside the hedge. “Okay, plan: you distract the parents, I snag the loot, we leave before someone starts singing ‘Happy Birthday’ like it’s a war anthem.” Bill raised a finger. “Counterpoint: we swap the present tags with blank ones.” Molly blinked. “Why?” Bill shrugged. “So technically we steal nothing, but we still get presents. It’s called loophole pilfering.” Molly sighed. “That’s not a thing.” Bill whispered, “It is tonight.” From inside, muffled laughter rolled through the window. Molly leaned closer. “If one kid cries, I’m blaming you.” Bill pressed a button on his gadget. “If one kid smiles, that’s also on me. Ready?” Molly inhaled. “Ready. But no slapstick. We’re professionals.” Bill replied, “Professionals do slapstick in secret.”