Molly leaned back in the worn leather chair, her combat boots propped up on the rickety kitchen table. The blueprints of the suburban house were spread out before her, annotated with red marker and coffee stains. Bill sat across from her, meticulously cleaning a set of lock-picking tools. "You really think we can pull this off?" Bill asked, raising an eyebrow. She snorted. "It's a six-year-old's birthday party. How hard can it be?" The house plan showed a classic suburban layout—open-concept living room, kitchen with an island, and a side entrance perfect for their approach. Molly had already determined the exact time of maximum chaos: cake-cutting moment, when parents would be distracted and children would be hopped up on sugar. "The presents are going to be stacked near the gift table," Bill muttered, tracing a finger along the diagram. "Looks like they'll be wrapped in those oversized gift bags. Easy grab." Molly chuckled. "People always underestimate how valuable children's birthday presents can be. Designer toys, limited edition collectibles, electronics. This isn't some dollar store haul." Bill started sorting through a bag of disguises—a clown costume for him, a party photographer's outfit for her. They'd blend right in with the chaos of a child's birthday celebration. "Timing is everything," Molly said, tapping the blueprint. "We've got a twelve-minute window between cake and present-opening. Maximum confusion, minimum suspicion." "You're treating this like a military operation," Bill laughed. "Every heist is a military operation," she retorted. "Just with better costumes." The surveillance photos showed a backyard decorated with superhero banners and inflatable characters. Bouncy castle, multiple children running wild, parents looking exhausted. Perfect cover. Bill checked his watch. "Reconnaissance is complete. We know the layout, the guest list, the schedule." "And the presents," Molly added with a wicked grin. "Don't forget the presents." Their plan was simple: arrive as hired entertainment, blend with the crowd, grab the gifts during peak chaos, and disappear before anyone realizes anything is missing. The estimated take could easily reach five figures—all from unsuspecting children's birthday loot. "One question," Bill said, adjusting his clown nose. "What do we do with a bunch of kids' presents?" Molly's smile was razor-sharp. "There's always a black market for limited edition toys. collectors pay top dollar for sealed, mint-condition items." The kitchen fell silent. They both knew the risks, the potential complications. But the potential reward was too good to pass up. "Ready?" Bill asked. "Always," Molly responded, zipping up her photographer's vest and checking her fake press badge. Another day, another heist. Another birthday party about to become very interesting.