Molly crouched behind the oversized garden gnome, adjusting her tactical earpiece while scanning the perimeter of the suburban fortress. The target was a massive, inflatable castle currently swarming with hostile, sugar-fueled threats. She watched a small child scream with unbridled rage. "I’m telling you, Bill, the security is tighter than the Louvre. I just saw a toddler tackle a clown. It was brutal," she whispered into the microphone. Bill chewed nervously on a licorice rope from the safety of the surveillance van, staring intently at his crayon-drawn schematic of the backyard layout. He tapped the paper with a sticky finger. "Relax, Mol. The parents are too distracted by the sangria to notice us. We go in through the side gate during the magic show," he replied. "The gate is locked. We have to climb the trellis. I’m wearing heels, you idiot." "You’re a professional. Improvise. Think of the payoff. We’re looking at three gaming consoles and a haul of rare LEGOs." "We are literally stealing birthday presents. I hope you can sleep at night." "I’ll sleep on a mattress of cash. Besides, we’re doing them a favor. Materialism rots the soul." "You’re a philosophical monster. If a kid sees me, I’m blaming you." "Just keep your mask on. Nobody questions a rogue princess these days." Molly sighed, checking her reflection in a soup spoon she found in the grass. The mission was a disaster already. "Fine. But if I get icing on my jacket, I’m burning this place down." "Noted. Grab the Transformers and run."