Molly and Bill huddled in the back of their dilapidated van, poring over a crude diagram of the Jenkins' family home. The rhythmic pumping of the nearby traffic lights illuminated their faces in an eerie red glow. "We can enter from here," Molly pointed to the left side of the house, "and escape through here." She indicated the right side, her finger leaving a smudge on the paper. "The presents will be in the living room. It's a kid's birthday tomorrow. We can't miss it." Bill whistled. "It's perfect. Another greasy job done. How do you think their security is?" "Not as tight as a diamond shop, that's for sure." Molly chuckled, a mischievous grin spreading across her freckled face. "Probably nothing more than a babysitter and a dog, right?" "A deadly combination," Bill retorted, his spiky hair bobbing as he nodded. "Very dangerous. But we're pros, Molly. Professionals." Molly straightened her oversized jacket, a maternal smile on her lips. "Rightfully so. Practice makes perfect, and we've had enough practice on these little rascals. I can smell the loot from a mile off." Bill shifted, the steel of his unregistered gun glinting in the neon light. "Let's get this over with. Everyone's waiting." Molly peered through the window, bars of another building dimly reflecting her eyeshadow. "Teddy bears and games it is, then." She flashed a grin and they both tumbled out of the van, slamming the doors behind them.