Molly fidgeted with her lockpicking kit, shooting a sideways glance at Bill. He was lounging against the side of their van, consumed by a comic book featuring an anthropomorphic crime-fighting beaver. "Bill," she hissed, "Focus on the job, will ya?" He looked up, feigning innocence. "Focus on what? The fact that we're about to crash a kiddie party and make off with a pile of toys?" Molly rolled her eyes. "Exactly. We need to maintain our cover. You can't waltz in here dressed as a rcade bandit while I'm in a full-blown clown costume." Bill's shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. "Hey, I'll have you know, this is an authentic B-string villain costume." "Whatever, just keep it together, alright?" They parked the van near the dubious-looking bounce house, and Molly peered through her binoculars at the target: a pink-festooned mansion, host to "Princess Penelope's Perfect Pony Party." The invitation had fallen into their hands (or rather, their drunk friend's puppy's paws, but that's another story) and they couldn't resist the challenge. The party was in full swing. Squeals of delighted children mingled with the incessant bleating of plastic instruments. Molly shuddered. "This better be worth it," she muttered, slipping on her clown wig. At the entrance, Bill straightened his faux-fur collar, adopting a menacing (