The sun dappled through the amber leaves, casting a golden glow over the park as children's laughter floated through the air. Molly and Bill crouched behind a fallen oak tree, their eyes fixed on the colorful tents and bouncy castle in the distance. "That's the place," Molly whispered, her voice barely audible over the wind. "Benny's birthday bash. All those little brats out there, blissfully unaware of the loot they've got stashed away in those tents." Bill's eyes glinted with excitement as he nodded. "I had my eye on that place for months. You wouldn't believe the haul from last year's party. Three iPads, at least a dozen dolls, and enough candy to open up my own candy store." Molly grinned, her sharp canines glinting. "Well, times three this year. Benny's father is some hotshot lawyer. The kid's friends all have cash to burn." "Alright, here's the plan," Bill began, unfurling a crude hand-drawn map. "Molly, you take the small tent. That's where they'll keep the expensive stuff. I'll hit the big one for the wrapped presents." Molly nodded. "What about the adults? Any guards?" "Two at each entrance, plus three floating around. We'll wait for Benny to do that silly cake song thing before we strike." Bill checked his watch. "That's in about five minutes." Molly stretched, her lithe body unfolding from her crouch. "I'm gonna go around left, through the playground. You take right, through the creche." "Molly," Bill paused, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "Yeah?" "What if... you know, someone gets hurt?" He didn't mean to say it. But lately, Molly had been getting increasingly reckless, pushing their heists just a bit too far. Molly's expression hardened. "Nobody gets hurt. We in and out, slicker than snot on a doorstep. That's our rule." Bill nodded, unable to meet her gaze. He heart ached to see Molly, who had inched over the line so long ago, he couldn't remember the last time she'd been on it. "Alright, sillies. See you in five." Molly rolled her shoulders, the guns hidden beneath her jacket bumping against her ribs. "Showtime." She melted away into the trees, silent as a ghost. Bill watched her go, a tug at his jaw and a feeling of total unease crawling up his spine. Everything had gone wrong last time, but Molly had dragged him out by the scruff of his neck and pulled him back in. He pushed the thoughts away. He'd promised, he had. He crept over to the other end of the playground, climbing over a child-sized gate. The scent of icing and scorched hog CYAN pinged at his nostrils as he ducked behind a bouncy castle. He no0ticed Molly surreptitiously slipping a present into her black duffel. So like her to test the waters. Benny cleared his throat, gawky young voice launching into a muffled Happy Birthday. Bill reached for his binoculars. Molly caught him; one raised eyebrow - a go-get-'em, or was that a guard alert? He tunneled his hand back down and waited. The bouncy castle sagged as a miniature firefighter stepped off. A mom in too-tight jeans walked by, her heel catching on a stray ball. Bill crouched behind the gaudly-tinseled bouncey castle, Molly vanished into the wider pack. More kids poured out as Bill watched. Seven more adults spending too much time on their phones to write commentary on the bouncy castle. Molly str07ped back out, her duffel half-full. She nodded to him as she snatched another present off the table, dropping it in her bag. But Bill was crippled behind the clash of Salmarsh's walkies-talkies and his craft knife leaving gar wraps pricks of pricks on his thigh. He watched in horror as a four-year-old blonde raced around the corner of the tent and took in Molly's hippity-hop as Molly hip-rolled behidn the tent. "Oh my..." Molly purred, scooping up the tot in her arms. "Hi, love! Fancy meeting you. Now what's your name?" The kid smacked away, howling like a moss-back. Molly cringed. This was all wrong. "Showtime," Bill said, bundling the pristine sinks and fishing gear in his bag. Molly etched something he though was gorlbling. There was a hunt in the left tent, raised voices. Squealing tires. The start of sirens. Every kid was looking; Bill watched a tankish pomp son try to edge in front of mom's waist and wollop a findsize sized necklace handing loose near the higher trunc burst etchings. "Fl's?" Molly said. "Stores all..."