The alley was alive with the muted symphony of city cacophony: the distant wail of a siren, the rumble of a passing truck, and the discordant symphony of squawking pigeons. Molly perched precariously on a overflowing dumpster, her flashlight beam slicing through the darkness, studying the building across the way. "You sure about this, Bill?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "Children's birthday party? Seems a bit low even for us." Bill, sprawled on the sidewalk, meticulously cleaning his lockpicks with a miniature chamois cloth, glanced up. "Relax, Moll. It's not just any party. This kid, Jimmy, his dad's a titanium magnate. Lady told me personally, diamonds bigger than my wrist were coming in. Plus, what's more fun than robbing a bunch of sugar-crazed toddlers?" Molly scoffed. "Fun? Don't tell me you're actually looking forward to evading miniature ninjas and dodgeball tantrums." Bill snorted. “Hey, those plastic swords are surprisingly sharp. Been thinking of adding them to our arsenal." He reached into his satchel and pulled out a worn-out comic book. “Look, I’ve scoped out the place. There’s a side entrance, ventilation shaft big enough for us to squeeze through, and the security's a retired chihuahua named Princess. Doesn't look like much of a threat," He said, nonchalantly flipping through the comic. Molly raised an eyebrow. "Princess, huh? What kind of party decorates with Dobermans?" Bill chuckled, snapping the comic shut. "She's a pampered lapdog," he explained. "Attached to her owner 24/7. Says chances are she'll be busy napping during the presents." "Sounds risky," Molly muttered, peering at the house again. "And what about the other guests? Parents will notice a few missing presents, right?" Bill grinned wickedly. "Nah, they won't. We'll be in and out before they notice the babies are swapping genders." He glanced at his watch. "Actually, they're about to cut the cake. Time for our grand entrance." Molly sighed, gathering her tools. "Fine. But if we end up tangled in a jungle gym and covered in glitter, I'm blaming you." Bill whistled cheerfully, tossing a grappling hook onto the fire escape. "Deal. Remember, stay low, stay silent, and most importantly," He paused, leaning close to Molly with a conspiratorial glint in his eye, "don't eat the cake. They use those plastic forks."