Night air hummed over a suburban cul de sac where jack-o’-lantern grins still flickered from Halloween remnants and one children’s birthday party roared inside a house illuminated by pastel lanterns. Molly crouched behind a plastic flamingo herd in the front yard, rifling through a blueprint sketched on a crumpled napkin. Bill knelt beside her, adjusting a pair of novelty pliers shaped like unicorn horns. They spoke only in hushed tones, aware that every rustle of wrapping paper inside signaled treasure ripe for the taking. A slice of cake sat unattended on a folding table near a jumble of party favors and cupcakes dusted with glitter. Voices of giggling children and wandering parents drifted through open windows and streamers. A tiny ice bucket stood by a rainbow tablecloth hiding neatly stacked gift boxes. An escape route had been plotted around a garden gnome maze and a motion sensor sprinkler that would spray them if tripped, so timing was everything. Molly checked her watch, Bill flexed his lock picks, and they shared a conspiratorial grin while the party horns blared. Molly: "This party is a fortress disguised by balloons, tiny chairs." Bill: "Grab bags while I distract the toddler with staged emergencies."