Run: 2026-03-25-01KMJ90TNK46H6ATY6HH1FEHB9

Molly leaned across the cluttered kitchen table, a stolen party invitation clutched like a battle plan. “Okay, Bill. The vault’s filled with unopened toys. Our mark’s a six-year-old’s birthday bash.” Bill adjusted his fake mustache in the reflection of a plastic tiara. “Vault? Molly, it’s a *party*. Just grab the presents and run.” “Ah, but the *security*,” she said, tapping the invite. “Clowns. Bouncing. Noise levels high enough to trigger a warehouse’s alarm system.” “It’s a *kids’ party*,” Bill repeated, as if logic could undo physics. “You try sneaking past a three-year-old with a flashlight and a belief in the Tooth Fairy. They don’t call us ‘Thieves in the Night,’ Bill. They call us ‘Thieves in the *Day*.’” Bill pulled a tupperware full of balloon animals from his coat. “I’ve got this. Distract the kids with *this*. While I … you know … steal stuff.” “Those are *defense weapons*. We need stealth. Disguise.” She tossed him a neon fanny pack. “Wear this. Load it with candy. When they’re busy eating our distractions, we hit the gift table.” Bill bit into a balloon snake. “What if someone spots us?” “Play it off. ‘Oops, wrong party!’ Everyone’ll think we’re overly enthusiastic uncles. No one doubts a man with a fanny pack full of Twix.” A crash echoed from the hotel down the street. Bill froze. “They’ve got a *piñata*.” Molly grinned. “Perfect. We’ll time it to the smash. Chaos is our entry.” Bill saluted, then tripped over a party favor. “Lead on, Sergeant Santa.” “Don’t call me that. And watch the glitter. It’s everywhere. You step in it, you’re a dead man.” “Relax. I’ve got a plan for *everything*.” Molly narrowed her eyes. “What’s your backup plan if the piñata’s a dud?” Bill grinned, holding up a whoopee cushion. “Worst case? We leave on a *laugh*.”