The basement was a labyrinth of cardboard boxes and dusty shelves, illuminated by a single flickering fluorescent light. Molly traced her finger along a stolen blueprint of the community center's event space, her brow furrowed in concentration. Bill leaned against a rusty shelving unit, twirling a lock pick between his fingers. "Those birthday presents are going to be worth a fortune," he muttered. "Not just about the money," Molly replied, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark. "It's about the challenge." The blueprint showed the layout of the children's party room, with meticulously marked locations of gift tables and security blind spots. Bill chuckled softly, sliding a specialized electronic jamming device across the workbench. The device would disable the center's rudimentary alarm system, giving them precisely twelve minutes to infiltrate, collect, and escape. Molly adjusted her tactical gloves, checking each seam and fastener. Their costumes—realistic party entertainer outfits—were carefully tailored to blend seamlessly with the chaotic energy of a children's birthday celebration. "We'll be in and out before anyone realizes," Bill said, a confident smirk playing across his lips. "Just another day at the office."