Molly and Bill crept across the moonlit garden, their eyes fixed on the brightly lit house across the street. The Smith kids were busy pouring punch and passing out red cups. "You ready to make some real cash, partner?" Bill whispered, his mustache twitching with excitement. "I am," Molly signed, a thrill of adrenaline coursing through her veins. "Now let's see who's going to be the one who grabs the gift bag." Bill nodded, his eyes darting around the shadows. "I've got yours." Without another word, they dropped down into the crime, weaving through the scattered partygoers with ease. Molly expertly snatched a kid's prize, but Bill was slower, his fingers stumbling over the slippery floor. Molly winced as he flailed, dropping a cup of punch. "No! Ah!" he shrieked, frantically scrambling to regain his footing. "We'll get it now, Molly!" As they hurtled toward the stairs, Molly gave a sly grin and kicked the runner kid aside, grabbing the gift bag with her teeth and scurrying up the banister.