Molly crouched behind the inflatable bounce house, studying the gymnasium through binoculars. Streamers hung from every corner like colorful nooses, and a mountain of wrapped presents sat unguarded near the punch bowl. "Bill, how many six-year-olds do you think we're dealing with?" she whispered. "At least forty. Maybe fifty if you count the sugar-crazed ones." She nodded grimly. This would require precision. They'd cased the joint for weeks, studying party patterns, pizza delivery schedules, and the critical bathroom break window. Bill adjusted his fake mustache, which was already peeling at the corners from nervous sweating. Molly pulled out their blueprints, marked with X's indicating present locations and danger zones. The clown in the corner presented an unexpected obstacle. She hadn't anticipated a clown. "What about the clown?" Bill asked, reading her mind. "We distract him with balloon animals." Bill squinted at the gymnasium again. A child shrieked with laughter. Another knocked over the punch bowl. The presents sat there, glorious and defenseless, waiting to be liberated by two professional thieves with absolutely no experience handling children's birthday parties.