Molly lowered the high-powered binoculars, a vein throbbing in her temple. Across the street, a bounce house shaped like a dyspeptic dragon wobbled with every shriek of delight. The target was ripe. She tapped a manicured nail on the blueprints spread across the van’s dashboard, a document of shocking professional detail for a suburban four-bedroom. "The window is ninety seconds, Bill." He grunted, his bulk straining the seams of a garish clown suit. He was trying to affix a squeaky red nose, but his sausage-like fingers kept fumbling it. The plans showed the optimal route from the kitchen window, past the living room warzone, to the 'present pile' in the dining room. A masterpiece of tactical infiltration, slightly undermined by the man wrestling with foam rubber. He finally jammed the nose on, slightly askew. "Does this nose look straight to you?" Molly ignored him, her focus absolute. This was it. The Maddington Third-Grade Birthday Heist. She adjusted her own oversized bowtie. "Focus. It’s time to secure the loot." A tiny, evil smile touched her lips as Bill immediately tripped while exiting the van, his giant shoes silent assassins of his own dignity.