Molly crouched behind the hydrangeas, the vibrations of 'The Hokey Pokey' rattling her teeth. The suburban backyard was a chaotic maze of streamers and abandoned party hats. Her eyes locked onto the prize: a mountain of wrapped gifts stacked precariously beside the ice cream stand. Bill checked his equipment, looking pale as a sheet while the sugared-up screams of six-year-olds echoed off the fence. The sheer intensity of the celebration was overwhelming, a sensory overload of primary colors and crying parents who had lost their minds. "Is the perimeter secure?" Molly whispered, adjusting her black turtleneck. "Negative," Bill replied, ducking a stray balloon. "I spotted a piñata." "Armed?" "Candy-filled. Highly volatile. We need to wait for the candle blow-out." "Agreed. The lights will dim. We have a thirty-second window." "What about the bouncy castle sentries?" "They're just kids, Bill. Jump on their heads if you have to." "I'm not jumping on kids! That's a PR nightmare." "Then use the smoke bombs. Grab the Barbie Dreamhouse and run." "It’s heavy! Can’t we just take the gift cards?" "We are professionals. We take the big score. Now, go time." Bill sighed deeply, pulling a neon party favor from his tactical pocket as they prepared to breach the heavily guarded patio.