Run: 2026-05-27-01KSMED54PJNZYCJJW1WNK5SF7

"Bill, are you sure about this?" Molly asked, her green eyes darting nervously. "Stealing presents from a kid's party? That's gotta be the cringiest job we've ever done." Bill grinned, adjusting his fake mustache. "Relax, Mol. The boss said these presents are essential to the next step of the plan. Besides, think of it as rope-a-dope capitalism: stealing back the mass-produced crap we forced into their tiny hands in the first place." Molly sighed, checking her pocket for the lockpicks. "Fine, but if I've gotta wear this stupid sparkly tutu, I'm snacksing on the finger sandwiches afterwards." "Deal. Now, when the clown drops the piñata, that's our cue to sweep in, fast and clean." They ducked down the alley, heading for the backyard where the party was in full swing. A mariachi band blared lending fateful soul to the occasion. "This kid must have connections, Molina!" Bill whispered, jerking his thumb. Molly just groaned. At this point, treating the entire afghani operation like some kind of badly-written children's card game was looking more and more appealing. "Go, tap the keggers, trip the candles, spark the obscurity! Just get me into this party." Bill burst out laughing. "You know what, Mol? After this heist, we deserve those finger sandwiches. I was thinking about those tiny, exquisite little bites all damn day." Molly rolled her eyes, but couldn't help but smile a little. Heist or highway, torte or torture, at least she had Bill by her side, fingers crossed inside her gloves.