Molly leaned against the tall brick wall, her eyes scanning the colorful decorations that dangled from the nearby trees. "So, Bill, you sure about this? Stealing from a kiddie birthday party seems like a new low, even for us." Bill's toothy grin spread wide as he adjusted his Union Jack earmuffs. "Come on, Mol. It's not like the little rascals are gonna miss a few plastic toys. Besides, think of the angle. 'Thieves steal gifts from birthday party; children traumatized for life.'" A small child teetered past them on a tricycle, giggling uncontrollably. Molly's eyes softened. "Yeah, that does have a certain charm to it. But what makes you think this party's worth the risk? The loot is probably plastic crap and old socks galore." Bill pulled out a crinkled invitation from his pocket. "That's the best part. It's been themed after that new movie with the CGI dolphins. Presents will be full of stuffed marine life and toy cutlery. Easy pickings." With a sly chuckle, Molly glanced around the park. "Alright, you convinced me. Let's bring in the welcome committee. Where's our recon guy, Rodney, when you need him?" Bill held up his wrist, from which a tiny beeping device dangled. "He's out there, casing the joint. Says the entertainer's a balloon twister and the cake smells like strawberries and cream." Molly rubbed her hands together. "I've tasted both of those things, and I'm pretty sure I'm in." As they moved through the party's perimeter, Molly sussed out security while Bill scoped out potential entry points. "I see an open window. We're in, babe." Making sure no one was watching, Molly crawled through the window, melodically whistling "Happy Birthday." Bill followed, landing gracefully on one knee. Together, they began their operation: the Great Toy Robbery of 2022. The counselors were distracted by clapping for the balloon twister, allowing the thieves to work their magic – a symphony of clean theft and efficient pocketing. "What next, partner?" Molly whispered, a kite in hand. "We steal the show." Bill wiggled his eyebrows. "Time to make some waves." They sprinted toward the prize – an enormous cake marked with a neon dolphin – while the children cheered on, oblivious to the caper unfolding before them. The party, forever tainted by their thieving hands, descended into chaos. Their escape was masterful; they hoisted themselves over the fence, avoiding sprinklers and raucous birthday shouts. As they blended into the night, the children's laughter and Rodney's muted directions brought a new thrill to their already storied careers. "And that, my dear Molly," Bill said, pocketing a stuffed dolphin, "is how we swipe the surprise."