Run: 2026-03-18-01KM09PQYT6XM9NSXBDGGAEX2V

The rain drummed steadily against the parked van as Molly and Bill huddled over a crinkled party invitation in the dim glow of a flashlight. The Bouquet Children’s Extravaganza was tonight, and the invite promised bouncy castles, costumed caricatures, and, most importantly, a treasure trove of unwrapped loot just waiting for the taking. Bill adjusted his acrobat beard, his eyes glinting with mischief. "You sure about this one? Cops’ll be crawling around like ants on a dropped ice cream cone." Molly stuffed the invitation into her pocket, her smirk sharp under the streetlamp’s flicker. "Relax. Adults think kids just bash the presents open. Half those boxes are still in pristine condition. Perfect for the black market, no questions asked." Bill scratched his cheek beneath his fake mustache, wincing as the glue tugged. "Right. Steal from children. How noble." "Nothing noble about it," Molly said, snapping her gloves. "It’s about supply and demand. Ever try reselling a half-deflated Whoopee cushion on eBay? No takers." Bill groaned, slumping against the van seat. "We’re monsters." "Look, we take the good stuff—video game consoles, remote-control cars—and leave the glitter pens and Barbie outfits. Minimal trauma." Bill muttered, "You mean maximum profit." She grinned, tossing him a tiny lockpick set from her pocket. "Now hurry up and pick the lock before the clowns start dancing."