The moon hung low along the roads of Hurricane, Utah. The streets were empty --- mostly. Frederick's Camaro (stolen from his dad) roamed the streets, Mark at the wheel, his Bonnie mask glinting under the moonlight as he maneuvered expertly through the streets.

Your masks were covering your faces snugly, making sure that no one could figure out your identities. The car was moving towards a museum; and not just for a late night visit.

"Right, the museum’s guard rotation changes at 11:30. We’ve got exactly twenty minutes between shifts. If we can get past the west wing’s motion sensors, we’re golden,” Simon spoke up from under his Chica mask.

Michael let out a bark of laughter, fixing his Foxy mask carefully and running a hand through his brown hair, "Oh please, I'll just flash the guards with a wink and they'll be stunned and distracted in no time."

Mark rolled his eyes so hard you could hear it from the backseat whilst he made another aggressive turn on the wheel, "Guys, be serious. This isn't detention, this is---"

Frederick cut the other boy short before he could continue, "---a heist, we know. Besides, there's nothing that brute force can't solve." He flexed his biceps as if to emphasize his point, his Freddy mask slipping slightly.