Molly slung her feet onto the faded carpet of the community center, where children's toys and balloons adorned every corner. Bill, perched on a nearby chest, regarded the scene with a grin that could rival the inevitability of a June snowstorm. "Parade night," lamented Bill. "Thieves don't blend in more." Molly, hauling a canvas sack over her shoulder, snorted. "Especially not when the 'toy thief' squad's on lookout. This isn't a strip club; it's charity in human form." "Calm your flame, partner. We're usurpers of joy tonight. Today's a supreme night for 'Jolly Crimes' Mantle and 'Toy Thief' Bill." "Prussian officers of treasure?" Molly chuckled, eyeing Bill's polished black gloves. "Our uniforms aren't crisp—they're creased from a life lived in pockets of darkness, away from 'Jolly' lights. This suit of me?" Bill pulled down his tuxedo, "When I pledge to fraternize with seven-year-olds and return with enough toys bursting our bonds." "So be it," Molly quipped as she checked their gear—a map with a circled X and holographic blueprints shimmering in her glasses. "First rule of 'Toy Thief' Bill and Molly is, always know your 'Jolly' party location's labyrinth. I see two portals marked 'Gate Zero.'" "Portals or gift bags too tight?" Bill played along, and friend laughed at such a paradox since laser alarms were replaced by the wicked intricacy of foil-wrapped menace. "Invisibility cloaks invisible, masks, and laughter-soaked smiles like yours." Advantage: Cover. The night was theirs. The duo approached the party silently, the laughter of innocence a sharp contrast to their calculated ease. Approaching the portals, they exchanged a nod—a shared vigor pulsing between them. Like children in wonder, they'd unravel the adult illusion this night wore. "Alright, partner. I see staircases down here." Molly gestured to the intertwined banners and jungle gyms. "Climbing made of expensive stuff. Sled, I enter down." "Up,” Bill replied, picking up a rubber car. "Should be less 'party-patrol' and more 'party responsibility' tonight." They edged their way through children clutching sticky hands, their fingers playfully avoiding the weight of intent within them. Slipping behind the maze of revelry, the echoes of superhero chases mixed with pop tunes, a ballet of stolen glee awaited. "Time to tango with toy trophies," Bill whispered as he drifted ahead. And too late they realized, it wasn't the presents Molly and Bill sought to steal away the last vestiges of childhood innocence—it was in the shared glint of rebellion, the quiet satisfaction of knowingly subverting expectations tonight, under the guise of child's play.