The night was so quiet that even the crickets seemed to be whispering secrets to the shadows. In the darkest corner of the cul-de-sac, Molly crouched behind a trash bin, peering through a cracked peephole in the fence. Beside her, Bill shuffled nervously, his flashlight darting like a firefly in a jar. "Are you sure about this?" Bill whispered, his breath making little clouds in the chilly air. Molly grinned, the gleam of mischief in her eyes almost lighting up the darkness. "Bill, we've done more dangerous jobs than a bunch of sugar-fueled kids. Besides, think of all the shiny wrapping paper!" Bill rubbed his hands together, a nervous tick he’d acquired after years of dodging security guards and barking dogs. "Yeah, shiny, sure. But kids? They're unpredictable. Last time, remember the birthday clown? I swear I saw him hiding a knife behind those balloons." "Yeah, but that clown was creepy," Molly chuckled. "Today’s party? Totally different vibe. Listen—watch this." She tapped a button on her wrist device, and a quiet, digital lullaby hummed through the air. It was unreal how easily a few tweaks could silence the neighborhood. A small victory; it was going to keep the parents inside and the dogs out. Bill leaned in, squinting at the house. Through the window, he spotted a mass of color—balloons, streamers, and a mountain of gifts piled high in the living room. "Wow," he breathed, "it's like Santa exploded in there." "Exactly," Molly said, brandishing her bag of tools. "Our jackpot." Bill pulled out a scribbled map of the house and backyard. “Okay, so main entrance is a fortress. Security cam, laser tripwire, and that guard dog with the shiny teeth.” Molly nodded, "No way in through the front. But look here," she pointed to a side gate. "Kitchen window. It’s supposed to be open for fresh air." Bill raised an eyebrow. "Do birthday parties have open kitchens? Smells like a trap." Molly smirked. "Good spies think outside the gift box." They moved forward with practiced stealth, weaving between flowerbeds and garden gnomes that looked oddly judgmental under the moonlight. Pausing at the side gate, Molly tapped on the window. "Just a tap here… and,"—she worked with a quiet click—"voilà. Window’s open." Bill exhaled like he was about to land a plane. "You make it sound so easy." Molly grinned, shimmying through the window. "That’s because it’s supposed to be easy. We grab the loot, and out before anyone notices." In the living room, the aroma of cake and frosting made Bill's stomach rumble louder than an engine. The kids were distracted, watching a magician pull scarves from an endless sleeve. "They're busy. Perfect timing," Molly whispered, diving toward the mountain of presents. Bill hesitated, eyeing a tricycle decorated like a mini roller coaster. "You want the bikes too?" Molly gave him a thumb’s up, stuffing a box under her arm. Suddenly, a shriek. “Look! The magician made my teddy bear disappear!” Molly froze. Bill’s eyes darted toward the stairs where a small, furious child appeared, clutching the empty sleeve of his teddy bear. She tugged Bill’s sleeve. “Move. Now.” They snatched gifts, piling into Molly’s bag—action figures, glittery dolls, a box labeled 'Super Pirate Sword.' Bill whispered, "Wait, what if we get caught?" Molly winked. "Then we flash our best puppy eyes and run before anyone notices the missing presents." Outside, as the neighbors slept, the two thieves vanished into the night, their haul heavier than their regrets. At least until the birthday kid’s wails caught up with them on the morning news. “Next time,” Bill muttered, "let’s just stick to robbing banks." Molly laughed, "Where’s the fun in that?"