Molly and Bill sat on a bench a few streets over from the beautiful park where the children's party was taking place. They were tucked in the shadows, hidden behind the bulk of a thick oak tree, and they were finishing up the final details of their plan. Their faces a mask of professionalism and coolness - the kind one would expect from veteran thieves. Bill, sporting a chiseled jawline and a soul patch, was the mastermind of their little operation. He shifted in his seat, folding his arms as he turned to Molly, "So, you have the blueprints of the place, right?" There was an air of excitement in his tone, a sparkle in his blue eyes when he said it. Molly, cheeks freckled, eyes a vibrant green, with an afro that defied gravity, grinned, "Yep, and I have to say, it's like a blueprint version of a maze. But, hey, just what I needed for the day after a puzzle." She patted her pocket, almost like caressing a lover to reassure that the blueprints weren't going anywhere. Bill snorted, "Well, you know my boy's party's always the finest pickings. I heard he's got play-doh, some nerf blasters, and action figures out the wazoo this time." He laid out the map on his lap, tracing his finger along the paths they'd memorized. "Perfect for all the little kids to grow up and—hopefully—never know it's missing," Molly added, spreading her arms wide as if she were embracing their imminent success. "Tick-tock," Bill said, checking his wristwatch before pulling out a walkie-talkie, "We've got thirty minutes until gift time." He clicked on the device to activate the channel, "Sarah, you ready in the van?" A voice crackled through the device, "Roger that, Waz out." "Good, good," Bill said, "I hope they're not serving cake early." Molly gave him a sly grin, "And I hope they aren't serving any 12-layer cakes. We need to go in, grab, and get out before anyone knows what hit 'em." "You got that right, Honey Badger," Bill replied, using her call sign with affection. Molly crossed her legs, drumming her fingers on her knee, "But those eyes, all 30 of 'em. Have to dodge those like mines in a Zombie game." "Well, that's what we rehearsed for. Remember your 'aunt' chops?" Bill chuckled. "Aunt Molly, aunt for the day, right? Kid-magnet with a pair of tits. They'll cling to me like mouse-ear-toting toddlers to Disneyland," she responded, earning her a nod of confirmation from Bill. "We'll split up, meeting back here for the extraction. I'll snag the blasters and the figurines. You get the arts and crafts and the soft toys, yeah?" "Yes, sir. Just like the Red Sea parting, we'll bundle everyone to their side and nab the goods," Molly said, visibly eager. "And let's not forget our alternate plan. Got a smoke bomb, bolo knot, and pepper spray," Bill reminded her. "Already packed, including the mace. You know my style, prepared for any curve balls life throws." Molly grinned, a look of devilish mischief in her eyes. "You ready, your Fenix Rising?" Bill asked, a reference to her own nickname. "My wings are spread, open for take-off," Molly declared, her eyes aflame. Bill nodded, "Wear your watch loud, let's set the timer." "As loud as a freight train, coming through," Molly chirped, looking over the blueprints, memorizing every passage once more. Bill leaned in, conspiratorially low, "And remember, if things go kaboom, Sarah's got a burner phone for backup." Molly whispered back, "You know I got you, Brock the Roadblock." With that, Bill and Molly rose, their gears shifting from idle to max rpm. They left the bench, characters in a stealth ballet, moving like shadows across the park, ready for their big heist.