Molly leaned over the rough wooden table, studying the blueprint of the Williams' house before her. The flickering dim overhead light from the run-down factory shed they were crouched in cast dancing shadows across the grainy photocopy. Her boss and partner in crime, Bill, leaned in beside her, his broad shoulder pressing against her arm as he peered at the drawing with his mismatched glasses. "I've got this," she said, tracing her finger along the layout of the living room where they would make their move after midnight. "We come in through the front, Bill. That window's a cinch to slip through, and the big oak tree is right there to hide us. One report of the cops and we're down that alley to meet up and scoot." "Molly," Bill grumbled, pulling his weathered baseball cap snugly over his head. "You're underestimating the little tykes. Ain't you never been to one of them birthday parties before?" Molly raised an eyebrow at her unlikely friend and strong arm. "Those irksome little tears and scowls are just cover-their-ass excuses, Bill. Anyone tells me differently has to answer to me." She tacked the blueprint onto the wooden frame with a handful of heavy nails. Weak light fell through the gaps, illuminating tiny specks of sawdust floating in the air. "We do this my way, it'll be quick and clean, no muss no fuss. 'Assuming' none of the balloons seems to want to jump up and throttle us when we open that back door, that is." Bill threw his head back on his creaking cough and laughed, hacking into the crook of his elbow. "Look at the two of us, planning a heist. About as likely as the Big Man ain't got nothing better to do with his omnipotence than put beanie babies in a passable size 10 Wrangler Jean though, huh?" The discordant clank of an alarm suddenly blaring through the quiet night air made them instantly still, frozen in motion like prey caught in the headlights off a rural nowhere boulevard. Molly's white knuckles visibly tightened around the blueprint, blueprints fluttering from her now-loosened grip. A sinewy grimace crossed Bill's stubbled face as he slowly, silently mouthed out the words. "This more like hubris than humility." With no more than a soft cuss and a whispered curse, they sprinted to their vehicle, pulling away into the encroaching night to escape pursuit and to hopefully cover their tracks so that they might live to put that particular mad scientist to bed after their present procurement plot took root come thieves' midnight gamble. Whatever fibs and folly might befall 'em.