The sun beat down on the rundown house on the outskirts of town, its worn facade a testament to the neighborhood's utter lack of charm. Molly and Bill huddled on the cracked driveway, pouring over the client's blueprint of the target: a gleaming, glass-enclosed function room that catered to the sweet-toothed spawn of the über-wealthy. "Not a bad score for a kiddie party," Bill muttered, eyeing the array of stuffed animals and balloons that decorated the room's interior. "Shh," Molly whispered, "I don't want to give the gig away." She pattered her fingers on the blueprint's creased surface, tracing the layout of the rooms and identifying key security points. "Alright, so we hit the gift table during the cake eating. Kidlets are otherwise occupied and the hired help is preoccupied with sugared-up chaos." "Just what I always wanted: a room full of screaming monkeys and enough tacky gifts to block out the sun," Bill drawled.