Molly hauled the last of the equipment from the van, her gloved hands gripping the ropes. She glanced up at the festive lights twinkling from the windows of the sprawling mansion. "L motifs. How predictably sentimental." Bill slammed the van door shut and join her at the oversized wrought iron gate. "Sentiment's ripe for plundering." She rolled her eyes. "Such a poet." Roasted hog and candied yams wafted from somewhere inside, mixing with the pungent scent of her black leather getup. This many well-to-do parents in one place, their presents stacked high - it was like a treasure trove just begging to be hauled away in the night. Molly licked her lips. Bill took a deep breath, blowing it out in a plume of fog in the chilly October air. "Alright, run through the plan again." "Their kid's a little magician, right? Spent all day doing tricks in the front yard, hyping the party. They put all the presents for the other tykes under the big gazebo out back." "Yeah, I dunno, seems like a lot of work for an overpriced shindig where we'll just end up with a lapful of do-it-yourself science kits and reject toys." She flashed him a wicked grin. "You're just sour because we had to ditch our prancing ponies." "Aww, come on, kids love ponies." "Oh, but not when you're prancing them down the drive all 'giddy-up, git along lil' dogies' while old man Molotov's got a baseball bat chasing us screaming about his prize-winning wontons." Bill chuckled and adjusted his mask, purple wool integrated where the mouth would be so as not to make breathing too difficult. It was too risky trying anything like this without stealth gear. "Anytime we can make people clutch their stomachs while crying, 'Please no, it burns!', we're doing it right." Molly fastened on her own mask, a flamboyant assemblage of feathers and sequins that clung to her face like a lurid skin. "Right, so we're in and out, no muss no fuss. Haul all this swag, and if we're feeling real immigrant, maybe tip over some... "Meredith? Oh my god, is that you?" A woman's voice cut across the yard like a cannonball. Molly whirled, black hair nearly unraveling from her hasty braid. There, approaching them swiftly across the driveway, was a woman in a silver sequined cocktail dress, a party hat askew on her head. One hand clutched something black and fluttery to her chest. "Your dress! It's gorgeous! And Meredith never did tell me - where in the world did you get that mask?" Molly flashed to full alert. Before Bill could so much as sputter, she stepped forward and tripped the woman, knocking her backward onto her rear with a startled "oof!" "Shut it, lady!" Molly spat as she knelt, grabbing at the woman's hands. "Give me that invitation!" "Whaaaa?" The woman shrieked, still sitting there utterly nonplussed. Bill rounded on them, crouching down. "Hey! HEY!" He grabbed the invitation, waving it manically before the woman's face. "Next time an conspicuously dressed pair asks you for something, just give it to them! Okay? And don't stare, for christ's sake!" With deft fingers, Molly snatched the invitation and the woman's purse. "Nobody move a muscle," she said, standing and backing up, half-dragging the woman by the arm with her. To her credit, the latter didn't so much as whimper. They bolted for the gazebo, hitting the back yard at a dead sprint. "Grab all the boxes and bags! puppet kids, bill!" Molly yelled as they went. Heart hammering, Bill piled armloads of presents, cascades of crepe paper and bows tumbling off as he went. Glancing back, he saw Molly struggling to zip up the woman's handbag. The woman just stood there, blinking and shaking her head in utter disbelief. The woman's eyes cut to Bill and she yelled, voice perforating the night with utterly venomous glee. "I know who you are! You disgusting, unappreciated, talentless noobs! "You two are the foulest bit of include-up. I know you're the ones who, in horrible space adventure, pretended to stack gazebos." Bill froze, a life-sized teddy bear slumping out of his arms. "Gazebo stacking?" he said faintly. "Every year," the woman spat, advancing with her arms crossed. "Every single year on Hallow’Een you steel those new clothes and gifts meant for other kids, and distribute them to other children in need. This is a barbarian ritual!" Bill shook his head wildly and glanced to Molly but she just gaped back. This appeared to have concluded for the night."Oh my god, lady, we're out of here, you're insane! Molly, leg it!" But before they could make a run for it again, a small battalion of tiny figures clad entirely in banana costumes rounded the gazebo and began to shriek. "Arrest those staunch churls! Seize thief!" Molly groaned, glancing to Bill as her shoulders sagged. "I hate my job sometimes." She turned back to the woman, holding up a hand and forcing the most conciliatory expression she could muster. "I'm never watching this show again," Molly declared weakly. "It's always just ramblers and talking animals." The woman scoffed, throwing up her hands. "Of course you would be. You sign up for "the morning show" and think you won the whole thing!" Bill glanced to Molly again, a pained grimace contorting his face. "Okay, this is getting way too real." Molly sighed heavily and reached for the door. "You know what? I'm canceling the subscription. You can take your ramblers and your high budget costume, bill." They climbed into the van and slammed the doors shut behind them, the hollow thumping audible even over the clamor of shrieking banana-costumed children and the electronic wail of a car horn blaring as it backed up at high speed. Bullets pinged off the stretch of the van's exterior, leaving bullet holes an expectedly shredded layers of silk and lace. Molly ripped off her mask with an aggravated grunt, stuffing it in the glove compartment. "I'm getting too old for this shite," she growled. Bill started the engine and peeled out down the street. "I hate 'HallowEen,' I hate stage magicians, and I hate children's parties. I think that covers it." Molly snorted. "Same. Though the part about not watching that movie? That's sound life advice." She glanced out the window as the van rumbled down the quiet street. "Guess we're thieves at the end of the day." Bill just huffed out a laugh, his gloved hands gripping the steering wheel. "The good news is, even though it went sideways, we did meet our stealth objective - nobody died. And now all the kids in the hospital get to open presents tonight instead of tomorrow." Molly allowed herself a small smile. "Works for me." They drove off into the night, armed with heists completed and musing over the existential perils of gaslight costumes. "I'm keeping my preferred of a murderous knife fight," declared Molly. "There's still room to work in a crucial gap somewhere." Bill grinned. "Absolutely, I'm with you. Knock on any frantically ironic door." "Adieu, old friend." Molly lifted her glass. The tinkle of water trickled from her nostrils as she brought the vessel near her mask. It hovered, wrinkled from the long night of frantic preparation. Abruptly, she patted the glass on the table between them and then sipped from her own. "Watch out for rotten eggs, Bill." She winked. "You don't want any on your neck. It's more trouble than it's worth." "Sage advice," Bill said, fondling his glass. "Like sharing tampons. Though I hear if you sing loudly it helps to boost morale." "Oh, I think we've done our part for the young ones already," Molly said. "We have so much to look after in here." She patted her chest. "You're not wrong." He smiled. "Scavenge on." "Until next time." She raised her glass once more. "Here's to keeping our gullet free of horse meat." "To the end of the day," Bill agreed with a wag of his glass, clinking it against Molly's. "And yet, until the next. There's always another round of just desserts."|