The messy basement of Bill's dilapidated house was abuzz with scheming and scheming alone. In one corner, heaped with random gadgets, gizmos, and enough high-tech to wonder how the electricity bill was evenlegal, Bill tinkered away. In the other, Molly was hidden behind a mountain of stolen treasure, her summary report on their next target at the ready. "Bill, I've got the blueprints for the heist. Listen up!" Molly called out from her paper-covered cave. "Just a sec, Molly, I'm almost done," Bill grumbled, finagling with a Rolex he'd "acquired" hours prior. Molly groaned exasperatedly, 20% louder this time, "Bill, the children's party is tomorrow!" Finally, with a *cllick*, Bill set down his watch and scurried over,"Alright, alright, let's hear it," he said, dumpster-diving through the mess for a notepad. Molly cleared her throat, "Right, so, we're talking about Timmy Timbers' 7th birthday bash at the swanky Safari-Safe Soiree tomorrow noon." "Another kiddie party? Do they really need this much loot?" Bill interjected, eyeing the floor-to-ceiling presents in the pictures. "Focus, Bill! The Pink Hippo-Potamus plushies alone are worth a fortune on the black—" "No spoilers, Molly, geez!" Bill cut her off, not quite as innocent as he tried to seem. "As