Molly crouched behind a stack of helium balloons, her eyes glinting with mischief. The living room smelled faintly of frosting and birthday candles, and a pastel rainbow of gift bags lined a low table. Bill tiptoed in through the slightly cracked back door, balancing a rubber chicken he had liberated from an earlier stakeout. They shared a conspiratorial grin before Molly checked her watch. The music downstairs thumped bass lines that rattled the windows, masking any footsteps. Molly whispered, "Tonight we hit this party. I want every toy, ribbon." Bill grinned and hissed, "Kids scream, we swoop in, snag everything, vanish before cake." A sudden cheer drifted up from the crowd, breaking their freeze frame. They peeled apart a strand of falling streamers, revealing a sea of seven year olds clustered around a chocolate volcano cake. Bill tapped a finger on the table edge. Molly flexed her gloves and cracked her knuckles. It was time. With a nimble leap they were across the open floor, their shadows stretching toward the glittering pile of presents. In one synchronized swoop they would be gone like sneaky birthday ghosts leaving only empty boxes and stunned parents behind. They vanished into the rainy night.