The dimly lit taco truck parked at the curb of the residential neighborhood was home base for Molly and Bill as they plotted their most audacious heist yet. Inside, the scent of sizzling meat and crispy onions wafted through the air, masking the smell of dirtied socks and stale sweat clinging to their clothes. Molly tapped her fingers impatiently on the greasy counter, her eyes locked on the children's party invitation secured to the wall with a frayed paper clip. "Come on, Bill, we've been over this a dozen times. The presents alone are worth a small fortune," Molly said, her voice low and deliberate. "We can't let the little tykes enjoy their birthday spoils while we're stuck scraping change out of the couch cushions." Bill shrugged, his humongous gut jiggling with the motion. "Yeah, yeah, I know. It's just... stealing from children? It feels wrong, Molly. We're professional criminals, not perverts." Molly rolled her eyes. "Relax, Bill. It's just a birthday party. There's no one under five feet tall at these things. They won't even notice a missing present or two." "I still don't like it," Bill grumbled, while examining his nails, which were caked with a thick patina of dirt and who-knows-what. "Forget the moral dilemma. We need the cash, Bill. Our last job went sour, and the fence is breathing down my neck," Molly said, her voice tinged with desperation. "Trust me, this is going to be smooth as silk. I have the layout memorized; we'll be in and out before the cake was even cut." Bill sighed, stared down at his reflection in the tarnished stainless steel toaster, then shook his head. "Alright, alright. I'll do it. But if we get caught, I'm blaming you." Molly flashed him a wicked grin. "Nah, Bill, it'll be all your idea. I'll just be the one holding the ski mask." As they stepped out into the dimly lit night, the air was thick with the smell of pine needles and bourbon-soaked sagebrush, mingling with the faint scent of giggling children from the nearby festivities. Molly and Bill surveyed the scene, taking note of the easy access points and tying their hacksaw to a loose downspout. Molly pulled a pair of sleek, matte-black BB guns from her purse. "Loaded with pepper spray. We'll merely need to incapacitate the birthday boy or girl; a few harmless shots to thwart a thrilling game of laser tag." Bill glanced around nervously, rubbing the salt-and-pepper stubble on his chin. "Molly, you sure this is a good idea? This is kid's stuff, suspicious things could go wrong." Molly rolled her eyes again, this time with an amused sneer. "Where's your sense of adventure, Bill? Besides, we're professionals. Trust me, I've got a plan – or at least, I think I do." They crept around to the backyard, the sound of children's laughter growing more distinct with each step. Sneaking past the inflatable bounce house, they spotted their target: a modest ranch-style home with twinkling blue lights outlining the windows, and a sea of presents lined up like a rainbow-colored fortress. Molly pulled out a pair of latex gloves. "Alright, let's do this." Bill held up a bulky, hand-held radar detector. "Just one more thing, Molly. Is that thing even going to work on this low-tech cul-de-sac?" Molly snatched it from his grasp. "It's a precaution, Bill. Don't question the genius." With expert precision, they silently breached the entrance and shut the door behind them, plunging the room into darkness. Molly pulled out a BlackBerry, illuminating the otherwise black space with a faint blue glow. The area was still; only the faint hum of conversation from the parents' gathering outside filtered through the window. Bill held up a small flashlight, casting eerie shadows around the room like a menacing Jacob's ladder. "Tick tock, Molly. The clock is ticking," he murmured, assisted by the solid thump-thump of party music growing louder in the distance. Molly's eyes scanned the periphery of the dimly lit party hall. "Ah-ha!" she said, pointing at a stout wooden table teeming with gift-wrapped packages. She shouldered her way through, Bill narrowly avoiding a toppled piñata. "Faster, Bill! We don't have all night!" Molly whispered urgently, head darting from side to side as she snatched gifts and stuffed them into an outsized Doritos bag. Bill's hands trembled, BB gun wavering as he whispered, "This is wrong. I don't belong here. I'm Billy, the number-crunching investment guy, not an intruder in a birthday tableau." The creak of the door flung open shook them both to their core. A towering, red-nosed Santa Claus stood in the doorway, his jelly-like eyes locked onto the intruders. "What the...?" Molly stuttered, a shocked look painted on her face. Bill lunged forward, BB gun raised, pepper spray standing at the ready. "Not today, Santa! This is a heist for the record books." The towering figure didn't flinch, instead giving an omnipotent laugh that shook the room, "Well, I suppose it's about time I joined the party." Molly froze, a priceless vase clutched in her hand. "Oh no, not you too." Bill salivated at the shimmering prizes surrounding them. "Ho ho ho, indeed." He quipped with a sarcastic smile, seizing the opportunity. Slowly, a devilish grin spread across his face. It was clear: Molly and Bill had stumbled upon the most infamously elusive thief the criminal underworld had ever known – and he happened to be playing Santa Claus that evening.