The dim glow of streetlights cast shadows on Molly and Bill as they crouched behind a bush, peering at the brightly lit McMansion across the lawn. Paper banners reading "HAPPY BIRTHDAY JENNY!" in glittery lettering fluttered in the breeze from the open windows. Molly checked her lock picks for what felt like the hundredth time, her eyes never leaving the house. “You've got the lay of the land?” Bill craned his neck, using his occasional contacts to get up close footage of the party via drone feed. “Two guards at the front. The house is a situation, but I think I see a vulnerability in the kitchen vent. We can pop through that skylight.” Molly nodded silently, her mind in problem-solving mode. The mission was about to go down. “You ready for this?” Molly asked. “We get in, pop the vault, grab the loot, and out. Less the cake.” “Oh, we’re nailing this.” Bill gave her a brotherly punch to the shoulder. “We’re in and out before they notice, or I quit the mob.” Molly rolled her eyes as they scrambled towards the house. They had to wrap this up before 9pm, or the FBI would be crawling up everyone’s butts. Her eye was twitching, but her other senses were sharp. By this time tomorrow, they’d be the slightly richer parents of children who’d barely even miss 100 toys. Bill held out a toy rifle. “Alright, mask up.” “Oh fuck, I knew it.” Molly stroked a stand-in Barbie at Molly as she accepted the toy rifle, trading it for her real one. “Did not you bring real guns? Walk it off? Where are our-- ” “Real ones are banned in kiddie land, you’d get thrown out of the union.” Molly glared at the plastic rifle that filled her hand. “We’ve got to trust each other here.”