The blueprints were spread across the hood of the van, though they were less a technical schematic and more a crayon-scrawled menu from a pizza place. Molly tapped a greasy finger against a drawing of a pepperoni slice. "Entry point is the side gate near the hedge maze," Molly whispered, her eyes scanning the suburban street. "We wait for the magician to arrive. That’s our window." Bill shifted in the driver’s seat, adjusting his balaclava so it didn't squish his nose. "A magician? Seriously? I thought we were doing banks now. High stakes." "Banks have cameras, Bill. Six-year-olds have sugar rushes and zero attention spans," Molly snapped. "We go in low, we grab the haul, we get out. The payload is significant." "Payload? It’s a bunch of wrapped plastic." "It's not just plastic. I saw the registry. There’s a limited-edition cyber-droid in that pile. Retail value? Three hundred bucks. Plus the batteries." "We’re risking felony charges for a robot doll?" "Not just one. There’s twenty kids, Bill. That’s twenty gift bags. We’re talking a diversified portfolio of assets. Legos, board games, maybe a gaming console if the birthday boy’s an only child." "I just feel weird stealing from a kid named Timmy." "Timmy is a capitalist oppressor, Bill. He has everything. We’re just redistributing the wealth to the... financially challenged." She pointed a gloved hand at a colorful banner flapping in the wind. "See that?" "The 'Happy Birthday' banner?" "That’s the target. The presents are stacked right under the food table. It’s a classic honey trap." "How do we blend in? I didn't bring my 'cool uncle' costume." "You’re going in as the entertainment. I put in a call. The regular clown cancelled. Food poisoning." Bill’s eyes went wide behind the mask. "You want me to be a clown? I don't know how to make balloon animals." "You don't need to make them. You just need to distract them. Make a balloon poodle, throw it into the bouncy castle, and cause chaos. While the kids are diving for cover, I swipe the bags." "And what if the parents ask questions?" "Tell them you’re from the union. The Clown Union Local 402. They won't argue with bureaucracy." "This is the worst heist we’ve ever planned." "It’s the most efficient, Bill. Look at the security. It’s a golden retriever and a grandma in a lawn chair. Minimal risk, maximum reward." "I still don't like the shoes." Bill looked down at his oversized red sneakers. "I feel ridiculous." "Confidence, Bill. You’re a criminal mastermind disguised as a buffoon. Act natural." "I hate you." "Focus. The magician is late. You’re up in thirty seconds. Remember the signal." "Which signal?" "I honk the horn, you drop the balloons, and we run like hell." "Fine. But I’m keeping the cyber-droid." "We sell it, Bill. We sell it all." "Maybe I keep the Legos." "Just go make a poodle."