Run: 2026-03-18-01KM08N5AT8234G2QM148DJM55

The rain hammered against the roof of the parked van, turning the windows into a warped mirror of the empty playground outside. Molly adjusted her ski mask in the rearview, her breath fogging the plastic lenses of her sunglasses. Bill, hunched over a ratty notebook, traced the blueprint of the community center with a grimy finger. The presents inside the multipurpose room were lined up neatly—plastic dinosaurs, glittery wands, a Remote Control car that looked suspiciously expensive. "You sure about the vent?" Bill muttered, tapping the notebook. "Last week’s ‘Toddler Terrors’ fiasco had us prying open a goddamn clown cake instead of the—" "Relax," Molly interrupted, already tossing a grappling hook toward the downspout. "This one’s not rigged. Unlike that thing." She jerked her chin toward the vent Bill had nearly face-planted through three months ago. Bill grumbled but secured the other end of the rope to the van’s tow hitch. "If I get stuck in another restricted airflow maze, I’m blaming you. And also quitting the life of crime." Molly smirked, already halfway up the side of the building. The presents glittered under the flickering fluorescent light like stolen treasure in an elementary school Indiana Jones. She wriggled her way through the vent with the practiced ease of someone who’d practiced wriggling through vents a lot. Somewhere beneath her, Bill’s heavy breathing echoed through the school corridors like a disapproving Yeti.