"I'm telling you, Bill, we need to be quiet. We don't want to wake up the parents," Molly whispered, adjusting her gloves as they crept through the alleyway. "Aw, come on, Moll. We're here to make a profit. The kid's family is loaded," Bill snorted, his eyes scanning the street as they turned a corner. "These aren't loaded, Bill. These kids are going to wake up and kill us. Literally, I'm thinking. I've got a bad feeling about this." "Bad feeling or not? We just got the first clue. The party's invitation says it explicitly lists all the presents as 'not for kids'. So that's a good sign, don't you think?" Bill replied, pushing open the screen door and slipping inside. Molly rolled her eyes as she followed him into the house. The party was already in full swing, with sugary-scented balloons and enough noise to be heard from the backyard. Molly's eyes landed on the tree in the corner, where a giant banner reading "Happy Birthday" stretched across it. "This was so last week, Bill." Bill chuckled and handed her a microphone. "Into the mic, Moll. Let's announce our presence." Molly took the microphone, a smirk spreading across her face. "Ooh, nice move, Bill. I'm not going to let you get away with this one." She began to improvise, her voice booming through the air, "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to the most epic party ever! The mastermind behind this operation has assembled yet another crew of highly trained..." As she spoke, she discreetly dropped the microphone and stepped back, her eyes darting to the party room, where a toddler on a sugar high had climbed onto a pile of presents and was waving at them with a chubby little hand. "Oh, focus was key, guys!" Bill raised an eyebrow and whispered "Maybe it's not. Let's retreat and regroup." But Molly just winked at the camera. "We're just getting started. I've got a map of every shelf in this house and I can find the perfect heist location. You're just in time to witness the epic score of the century." Molly snickered as she scanned the room. Her eyes locked onto a particularly well-stocked bookshelf, loaded with cashmere sweaters and high-end toys. "Jackpot."