In the quiet of a moonlit alley, Molly and Bill huddled over a weathered map, their faces illuminated by the dim glow of the streetlamp behind them. Molly, the taller of the two, traced a gloved finger along the crisscrossed lines of the map's second dimension. "Alright, Bill," she said quietly, without looking up. "You're sure this is the spot?" Bill grinned around the end of a fat cigar he'd just put in his mouth. "Positive. That's the route we take to get into the party room, where all the little brats will be stuffing their faces with cake and kids' party punch." "Do they still do that?" "Oh yeah," Bill chortled. "It's a real throwback to the old days." He took the cold blunt end of the cigar from his mouth and winked at her. "You ready to rock this? It'll be a hands-down classic." "Well, we have the plan." Molly folded the map and tucked it into her coat. "Here's hoping they'll have some decent swag at this gig, Bill. 'Cause I'm pretty sure I'm an empty seat at a banquet of swag." Bill laughed almost soundlessly. "Depending on the swag," he commiserated. "But if it's turkey and mashed potatoes – sneak, please!" He pointed at her with an imaginary gun, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "We've got less than an hour before all the punch-drunk little guys are out like rocks and we can pull the raid." Molly smirked, grabbing her mask and tying it carefully. "As long as they have the goody bags, we're happy, right?" "Whatever puts little Jimmy or Lisa to sleep, eh?" Bill spread his disreputable-looking wings. "Blue dawns have those weird blue ribbons keeping little boys from turning into bats." "Well, then, let's get those fat plastic bags full."