Molly crouched behind the meticulously trimmed azaleas, adjusting the focus on her binoculars while the sounds of shrieking children pierced the quiet suburban afternoon. The backyard swarmed with tiny, sticky targets, a chaotic sea of primary colors. She lowered the lenses and sighed, checking her watch. "Check the perimeter again," Molly whispered, scanning the fence line. "I count three parents, one terrifying clown, and a dog that looks suspiciously like a mop." Bill nervously chewed his thumbnail, cowering lower into the damp bushes to avoid detection. He adjusted his dark clothing, feeling utterly ridiculous. "Did you account for the piñata defense system?" Bill asked with a tremble. "Because last time, I took a wiffle bat to the shin. Those kids have zero restraint and they bite." Molly checked her utility belt, mentally cataloging her lockpicks and the empty duffel bag strapped to her back. The stakes were high, but the payout was higher. "Focus, Bill. We strike during 'Happy Birthday'. It provides the perfect auditory camouflage," she said. "You take the gift table; I'll handle the loot extraction. We need those Lego sets." Bill stared at his sneakers, guilt weighing heavily on his conscience. He wasn't cut out for this high-pressure environment. "I still feel bad about this," Bill muttered. "Stealing from innocent little monsters. What if Santa puts us on the naughty list permanently?" "Santa isn't real, you idiot, but the fence for these toys is very real," Molly replied. "Now, put on your stupid party hat and let's move."