Molly paced back and forth in the dingy warehouse, her fingers drumming an impatient rhythm against the hilt of her combat knife. Bill sauntered in, a mischievous smirk on his face. "Late, as usual," Molly scoffed. "Hey, traffic's crazy on a Friday night," Bill retorted, shrugging out of his jacket. "I've been thinking, why a children's party of all things? We could've picked easier targets." Molly smirked, hands on her hips. "Listen, Billy boy, only the elite of the elite host parties at the Imperial Banqueting Hall. No basic bozos or ex-cons invited. Nobody would suspect a couple old relics like us. Plus, all those shiny things at the end of the rainbow. They're just too tempting." "But all those kids, aren't they out of our comfort zone?" Bill questioned, leaning against an old wooden crate. "We're thieves, not monsters," Molly responded, giving him a reassuring smile. "We'll be in and out before those munchkins even notice. Low-profile. The parents will think it's some magic trick thrown in by the entertainer." "Alright," Bill said, nodding, his smile matching hers. "So, the mastermind plan?" "You're going to slip in through the secret entrance that leads to the kitchen's ventilation system. I'll go in as a babysitter. Then, we'll both don our clown outfits, blend in, and make our way to the present table. The inside job's key, Bill. It's easy enough to rig the alarm to disarm at a specific time. I'll do it while I accompany the kids to the bathroom. We'll strip them down, hide in the supply closet, and BAM!" "BAM," Bill repeated, eyes widening. "While the party's in distraction mode, we make our grabs." Molly patted him on the shoulder. "Bang on. Then, we'll make our exit with the swag. Quick, quiet, and no trace left behind." "Sounds decent enough," Bill said with a nod. "But what about the staff? I've heard stories about their security." Molly winked. "Don't forget, Bill. In one of the child's gift bags, there's a cyanide, er, 'goodie' for the birthday bear. A sniff will have him ready for his nap. As for the other staff, they'll be occupied with our little friends having a grand old time in the ball pit." They both chuckled. "What about the kids, though? How'll we avoid them diving in like piranhas?" Bill questioned. Molly's eyes shone mischievously. "We'll give 'em each a sucker to keep 'em occupied, and anyone who's not busy smacking sticky hands on candy will either be snoozing or hypnotized by a puppet show I've prepared." "Nice," Bill muttered, amused. "Guess it all depends on timing, huh?" "You got it, Flyboy. You better get to work on that ventilation system. We'll once again become masters of that five-finger discount, and I'll borrow that babysitter's uniform right quick." Molly flashed a salute before rushing out. Bill shook his head and rolled up his sleeves, muttering under his breath, "So much for easy pickings. But I suppose juggling kids might be a good workout for the old nimble fingers." Laughing to himself, he cracked open a crowbar and got to work.