Molly pressed her face against the chain-link fence, watching dozens of screaming children demolish a superhero-themed piñata. She pulled out a small notepad and began sketching the backyard layout. Bill appeared beside her, holding two ice cream cones. "Reconnaissance is easier when you blend in," he said, offering her the strawberry one. "We're forty-year-olds lurking outside a kid's birthday party. Ice cream makes it worse." "Does it though?" Bill licked his cone thoughtfully. "I'm thinking we go in through the side gate around three-thirty. That's when they'll be doing cake." "Too obvious. Everyone's still outside during cake. We need maximum distraction." Molly pointed toward the garage. "See that door? Ten bucks says it's unlocked. These suburban parents never lock anything." "You want to go through the garage during the party?" "No, genius. We wait until present time. They all go inside, form that little circle, the kid starts ripping paper. That's our window." Bill nodded slowly. "The parents will be filming. Eyes on the birthday boy." "Exactly. We slip in, grab the haul, and exit through the front door. They've probably got two dozen cars parked on the street. We'll disappear in the chaos." "What about the present table? Those things are usually right in the main area." Molly grinned. "That's why we're disguised as the entertainment." "The entertainment?" "I booked us as backup balloon artists. Apparently the original guy just cancelled." Bill stopped mid-lick. "You didn't." "Check your phone. You're now William Twisty, and I'm Magnificent Molly. We've got a whole website." "You made a website?" "Relax, I used a template. Cost me twelve dollars." Bill scrolled through his phone, his expression shifting from panic to admiration. "These balloon animals are terrible." "That's the beauty of it. We're backup balloon artists. Nobody expects excellence. We show up, make some dogs that look like snakes, and position ourselves near the presents." "And then what, just walk out with armfuls of wrapped boxes?" "We bring a donation bin. Tell them we're collecting for charity after every gig. It's literally our thing." Molly showed him the website again. "See? William Twisty Gives Back." "That's actually kind of brilliant." "Thank you." "Morally bankrupt, but brilliant." "Says the man literally robbing children." Bill finished his cone and wiped his hands. "To be fair, kids today get too much stuff anyway. We're teaching them about loss and disappointment. Building character." "That's the spirit." Molly checked her watch. "We've got forty-five minutes. There's a Party City two blocks over. You need a vest or a bow tie or something." "What are you wearing?" "Already got it. Rainbow suspenders and a top hat. I look ridiculous." "Perfect. Let's go ruin some kid's birthday." They walked toward the car as another wave of screams erupted from the backyard.