Molly and Bill crouched in the alley, their faces hidden behind the shadows of trash cans. The neon glow of a convenience store reflected off the wet asphalt as they exchanged a nod. "I check the map," Molly whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the city. "It looks like the address is correct." Bill grinned, his eyes scanning the blueprint on the ground. "I'm downloading the schematics for the display cases. The whole thing's gone quiet enough to avoid the guards." Molly nodded, her long blonde ponytail bobbing as she rummaged for a hairpin and stuck it behind her ear. "Time to make the move. The parents are distracted by the snow," she muttered. Bill chuckled, his rugged features creasing into a smooth, crooked line. "I'll cover with the kid's mom. She's the one who sent us the invite." Molly squealed as Bill caught her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers. "Come on, let's get moving. We've got a kid to distract," he whispered, giving her a playful nip on the shoulder. They sprinted down the alley, dodging the trash cans like it was a obstacle course. As they hit the street, Bill tossed a radio on the ground. "We've got signal, Molly. We can make it work." Molly flipped her wrist, channeling a loud burst of static. The radio crackled to life, and the kids' squeals of delight carried through the streets like a promise of impending chaos. Bill and Molly darted across the sidewalk, weaving between shoppers and their strollers. Their target was a small boutique gift shop, the kind that catered to area middle-school kids. The display cases were labeled with cartoon characters and glittery stickers – oblivious to the intruders' sneaky nature. Inside, the store was quiet, with a few parents sweeping the toy section. Molly surveyed her territory, her fingers on the lockpick hidden in her sleeve. Bill switched to more serious face, scanning the crowded store for the chief guard, an obnoxious toddler with a paint-smeared face paint and a squeal of excitement radiating from his lips. The guard was the first to spot them, snapping a megaphone into workland. "Stop! You're not taking care of those toys!" Molly flashed a quick, wolfish grin as the guard's eyes scanned the room. Bill discreetly pressed the 'pause' button on the security monitor. "Who's the nut with the beard?" Bill asked innocently, as if the guard hadn't already spotted them. "What's the magic question, Bill?" "A man with a beard tries to wrestle a talking goldfish, and I'm pretty sure he's not exactly non-enthusiastic about being taken hostages." The guard's confusion turned to alarm as the guard tried to reason with Molly, who let out a whoop and handed a candy cane through the window, offering Bill a pointed wiggle. As they filled the coast, Bill grinned mischievously, handing Molly a bag stuffed with the very toys they were after. "Well, this is fun," Molly leaned into Bill's grasp, the cold nylon bag squeezed tight to her hips. "For our own little kid's birthday party?" he asked, his voice low and conspiratorial. Molly glanced at the door through the display. "We'd like to create some history." "I'm keeping it to myself, friend." Without a word, one arm cradling the gifts and the other making the slide into action.