Molly adjusted her binoculars, the neon pink bouncy castle looming large in the lenses like a blobfish in a wind tunnel. Beside her, Bill was currently entangled in a surplus cargo net, looking less like a master thief and more like a trout caught in a ceiling fan. The target was a suburban fortress, heavily guarded by a sleepy golden retriever and a balloon arch that defied the laws of physics. The mission objective was simple: infiltrate the perimeter, bypass the piñata defense system, and extract the loot before the sugar crash hit the toddler demographic. Intel suggested the presents were stacked near the cake table, a high-calorie zone of immense risk. Molly checked her watch. They had a ten-minute window between the magic show and the petting zoo arrival. It was a tight squeeze, tighter than the spandex on the clown they’d seen entering the front gate. The sheer volume of wrapping paper indicated high-value assets, or at least a very enthusiastic grandmother with too much free time. "Do we have to steal from a six-year-old?" Bill whispered, finally freeing an arm. "Look at the bow on that box," Molly replied, her eyes gleaming. "That's a professional knot." She signaled the advance. They moved with the silence of cats wearing socks, creeping toward the open window. The stakes were high, the sugar was higher, and failure meant facing the wrath of a birthday boy hopped up on frosting.