The musty air of the abandoned warehouse hung heavy with the scent of damp cardboard and regret. A single bare bulb cast long, flickering shadows across the floor, revealing a haphazard assortment of repurposed playpens, deflated bouncy castles, and a half-eaten birthday cake, its frosting crusting ominously. Molly surveyed the scene with narrowed eyes. "You sure about this, Bill? This place creeps me out." Bill, perched precariously atop a wobbly stack of plastic building blocks, shrugged, his mask askew. "Relax, Molls. It's just a bunch of leftover party crap. Besides," he held up a crumpled flyer that boasted a glitter-encrusted unicorn, "it's a 'Princess Penelope's Enchanted Extravaganza'. Think of the loot. Diamond tiaras, pony plushies, maybe even a magical wand." Molly snorted. "You're delusional. We're talking six-year-olds, Bill. The only magic wand they'll have is the kind that dispenses sticky lollipops." He hopped down, landing with a thud, sending a shower of misplaced confetti raining down on his head. "Hey, you never know. There's gotta be something valuable in all this, right?" He rummaged through a discarded loot bag, pulling out a deflated balloon and a plastic tiara adorned with a single, sad-looking rhinestone. Molly rolled her eyes. "See? Garbage." She sighed. "But fine. Let's do this. If it's anything less than solid gold, though, we're out of here." Bill grinned, his eyes gleaming with the feverish excitement of a bored kid in a candy store. "This is gonna be epic. We’ll be like modern-day Robin Hoods, except instead of robbing the rich, we're relieving spoiled brats of their childish trinkets." He tugged on a deflated dragon costume left behind from a previous party, the fabric seeming to sigh in protest. "Right, so, the plan?" Molly pointed to a giant, intricately decorated cardboard castle in the corner. "We hit the treasure chest, obviously. Looks like it's stacked high with presents. You distract the guards - those sobbing clowns they hired for entertainment - while I nab the goods." "Perfect! I'll wear this clown nose I found. It's practically begging for a tearful meltdown." Bill held up a grotesquely oversized red nose that looked like it could house a family of squirrels. Molly winced, fighting the urge to laugh. "Don't make me regret this, Bill," she muttered. "And try not to scare the children. Remember, we're Robin Hoods, not the Boogeyman." Bill, already halfway into the dragon costume, gave her a thumbs up, his voice muffled by the feathered neck. "Leave it to me, Molls. I'll have those little rugrats convinced they're witnessing a real-life fire-breathing magical dragon." Molly shook her head and sighed, a smile playing on her lips. "This is going to be a disaster." "Disaster?" Bill yelled, stumbling around in the too-tight costume. "This, my dear Molly, is a masterpiece in the making!"