Molly meticulously polished her already spotless brass knuckles, the glint catching the last sliver of twilight through Bill’s grime-streaked window. Bill, meanwhile, was attempting to dissect a particularly stubborn jelly doughnut, a fine mist of powdered sugar now decorating his beard. “So,” Molly began, her voice a low purr, “the target is a bouncy castle, a clown, and enough sugar to induce a national coma.” “Don’t forget the pony,” Bill mumbled, finally wrestling the doughnut into two unequal halves. “They always have a pony.” Molly sighed dramatically, adjusting her tight black beanie. “Right, the pony. And the presents. All of them.” Bill nodded, his eyes wide with the glorious possibility of a mound of brightly wrapped boxes. “Every last one. What’s the ingress plan?” “Simple, genius,” Molly smirked, a mischievous glint in her eye. “We’re going to blend in. We’re going to *be* the entertainment.” Bill choked on a mouthful of doughnut. “But… I don’t sing.” “Thankfully,” Molly deadpanned. “No, you’re the magician. I’m the balloon artist. And the look on little Timmy’s face when his brand new remote control monster truck vanishes… priceless.” Bill considered this, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face, revealing a speck of raspberry jam. “And then we vanish too, with the goods.”