Molly leaned back in the rickety kitchen chair, her combat boots propped on the table, spinning a stolen party horn between her fingers. Bill sat across from her, surrounded by blueprints of the suburban birthday party venue. "I'm telling you, this is the most lucrative job we've done all year," Molly said, twirling the horn like a baton. Bill raised an eyebrow. "A children's birthday party? You're joking." "Am I?" She grinned. "Little Timmy Henderson's parents just refinanced their house. The gifts are going to be top-tier. We're talking gaming consoles, collector's LEGO sets, maybe even some crypto-investments from tech-uncle." Bill scratched his beard. "How do you know all this?" "LinkedIn, my friend. Uncle Steve works at a startup. Probably bought the kid something ridiculous." The floor plans spread across the table showed every entrance and exit of the suburban ranch house. Red marker traced potential routes, with sticky notes highlighting security concerns. "The bouncy castle is our tactical advantage," Molly continued. "Maximum chaos, minimum detection." Bill sighed. "We're stealing from children at a birthday party." "Technically, we're redistributing wealth," she winked. "From overprivileed suburban kids to our very important 'retirement fund'." The surveillance photos showed a backyard setup: balloons, a massive cake, and children in various superhero costumes. Molly had already mapped out the gift table location, right next to the DJ booth. "We'll need a distraction," Bill muttered. "Already planned," Molly said, pulling out a remote-controlled drone. "This baby will 'malfunction' right over the punch table. Total pandemonium." Bill stared at her. "You've thought about this way too much." "Professional courtesy," she grinned. "You want in or not?" The drone was modified with a speaker that could play loud, random sound effects. Molly had tested it extensively, capable of producing everything from chicken squawks to air raid sirens. "We're really doing this?" Bill asked, half-horrified, half-impressed. "Absolutely. In and out in seventeen minutes. Maximum loot, minimum drama." Their typical heists involved jewelry stores or corporate offices. This felt different - more chaotic, more absurd. But the potential payout was too good to ignore. Molly started packing their specialized gear: lightweight duffel bags, noise-canceling earpieces, and a collection of zip ties. "One question," Bill said. "What if there are parents?" Molly's smile was pure mischief. "That's what the chicken sounds are for." The plan was ridiculous. Completely insane. But in the world of Molly and Bill, that was usually when things worked out best.