The nondescript sedan felt out of place across from a house that screamed childlike joy. A kaleidoscope of primary colors, balloons, and a giant inflatable unicorn adorned the lawn. Inside, muffled music thumped a terrible pop beat. Molly adjusted her balaclava, which was slightly excessive for a Saturday afternoon in the suburbs. “Recon is complete,” she whispered, her voice low and serious. “The payload is in the living room, stacked by the fireplace. Our window for asset extraction is during the ‘Happy Birthday’ singalong. Minimal adult supervision.” Bill squinted through the binoculars. “A six-year-old’s party, Molls. The risk-reward seems off. They’re probably all LEGOs and cheap plastic.” He pointed a gloved finger at the bouncy castle. It was a jiggling, shrieking mass of pure chaos. “And what about that? It’s an unpredictable environment.” Molly scoffed. “It’s a kinetic deterrent, Bill, not a security system. We go in low, we move fast. The only real threat is the kid in the dinosaur costume. He’s a sugar-high lookout. He sees everything.”