Molly adjusted her night vision goggles and squinted at the suburban house glowing with fairy lights beyond the manicured hedges. "You're telling me we're robbing a six-year-old's birthday party?" Bill unrolled crayon-stained blueprints across the rusted van's dented hood. "It's perfect. Security's lax, parents distracted by the clown, gift table's right by the sliding door." "What about the children?" Molly asked, checking her titanium lock picks. "They'll be too busy crying over spilled juice to notice." Bill pointed at a pink blob on the crumpled paper. "That's the bouncy castle. It blocks the view from the kitchen." Molly sighed, adjusting her utility belt and black tactical turtleneck. "I can't believe I went to MIT for this." "Fifty gift cards add up fast." Bill handed her a glittering unicorn mask. "Disguise." She stared at the spiraling horn with utter professional disdain. "Absolutely not, Bill." "Fine, wear the clown nose instead." He grinned wildly, applying greasepaint to his cheeks in jagged red stripes. "But remember: if anyone asks, we're just extremely dedicated party crashers." "Or simply the worst magicians ever," Molly muttered, slipping into her seatbelt and double-checking her folded map. "Either way," Bill said, starting the loud engine and revving it twice for dramatic emphasis, "those presents are finally ours."