Molly slunk into the dank alley behind the noodle bar, casting a furtive glance over her shoulder. "Yo, B," she muttered under her breath as she approached her partner in crime. "Did you scope out the scene like I told you?" Bill adjusted his baseball cap, eyes darting. "Yeah yeah, I did my homework. The birthday bash is in full swing. Brat's got like, a bajillion gifts stacked up in the yard. Sitting ducks, I tell ya." "Nice. And the parental units?" Molly demanded, hands on her pockets. "In another wing of the mansion, heavy schmoozing with the donor types," Bill replied with a chortle. "Security's in the back, posing as the clown. All we gotta do is zoom in, grab the loot, then zoom out." "Brilliant. Let's hit it then, Tarzan," Molly grinned. "I'll take point up top. You swing round back." She slapped his shoulder. "If I say jump, you better have a damn good reason not to say 'how high'." "Copy dat, boss," Bill saluted. "Rendezvous at the junkyard in two hours. Peace out." With a sly wink, the duo melted into the shadows, their casual stroll belying the audacious caper soon to unfold at the fancy kiddie soiree. Just another day in the life of the dynamic duo of juvenile delinquency.