Molly crouched behind a plastic hedge shaped like a unicorn’s dream, her black cat-suit clashing violently with the rainbow streamers fluttering above the backyard party. Bill, meanwhile, was having an existential crisis over his disguise—a too-tight clown suit with one squeaky shoe and a wig that smelled faintly of regret and cheese. He adjusted the oversized red nose, which kept fogging up his glasses. The inflatable bounce castle pulsed like a throbbing pink heart in the center of the lawn, guarded by a sleep-deprived father balancing a plate of uneaten dinosaur nuggets and a lukewarm thermos of coffee. Children screamed in chaotic joy, tearing through wrapping paper with the fury of tiny, sugar-fueled wolves. Molly signaled with two quick wiggles of her pinky finger—their prearranged code for *“Proceed with low-stakes criminal activity but avoid glitter at all costs.”* Bill responded by accidentally honking his shoe, drawing the suspicious glance of a toddler wearing a pirate eye patch and a tiara. They slithered forward, inch by inch, past a piñata shaped like a llama and a suspiciously quiet animatronic magician. Molly stuffed unopened gifts into a duffel bag labeled “Bible Study Supplies.” Bill tried to pocket a remote-control taco but was momentarily distracted by free cupcakes. “Almost done?” Bill whispered, mouth full. “One more goody bag,” Molly hissed. They vanished into the alley just as a child realized the unicorn piñata was hollow—and, more importantly, empty of candy. Justice, in its purest form, would have to wait.