Molly tightened her woolen scarf and adjusted her bright orange wig, a color scheme reminiscent of a traffic cone. Bill grinned at her, his eyes shining with mischief. "Right, we need to get inside. The party's about to start. I've got my target in mind: a Christmas tree with enough junked gift cards to fill an entire warehouse." Molly tilted her head, a wry smile spreading across her raven-black hair. "What makes you think we've chosen a tree?" "Think about it, Molly. It's the obvious choice," Bill replied, his chest puffed out. "I mean, who wouldn't want to steal a bunch of useless junk? The presents will be a goldmine." Their earbuds squealed to life, and they began to walk out the back door like jackrabbits. The mansion's security cameras flickered to life above, their LCD screens burning with an angry red glow. As they approached the front door, Molly yipped a quick hello, her hand resting on the butt of her gun. Bill nodded, a silent accomplice. The coast was clear. It was time to get this party started.