"Monte-en-l'Air!" Multiplice's eyes widened, even as she dropped one foot back into a stronger defensive stance and loosened the jump rope around her waist. The man in front of her wore a simple black shirt and pants – long-sleeved and gloved to hide his hands and arms – though her eye was drawn to an asymmetrical pattern woven into the shirt, not unlike the outline of bricks, that broke up his profile against the building beside him. As he had landed, his shoes had somehow muffled the sound such that she would have missed it if she weren't looking directly at him. A dark blue ski mask covered his face, leaving little in the way of distinguishing features beyond the shape of his jaw and the color of his eyes. His pack rattled slightly as he shifted the weight on his back; on his belt she spotted the outline of a small knife blade. And yet, the stature, build, and voice were unmistakable. "So it's you!"

Beside Multiplice, la Gymnaste sucked in a quick breath, frozen stock-still and staring wide-eyed at the man in front of them.

"Shit," Monte-en-l'Air muttered under his breath again. Drawing himself up slightly, he clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing as he examined her. "I see my reputation precedes me."

Multiplice folded her arms. "Just enough to know you're supposed to still be in prison," she told him, raising an eyebrow.

He smirked under the mask. "Time off for good behavior."

"I hardly think they consider escaping from prison to be good behavior." Multiplice scoffed. It had happened during the Chaos, while she and the rest of the Heroes of Paris had been regrouping in Angola. Dozens of criminals had broken out of the super-criminal wing of La Sante Prison. Max, Turing, Nabatala, and the "New Heroes of Paris" had managed to track down most of them and recapture them, but somehow Monte-en-l'Air had always managed to give them the slip. Pity. But perhaps this was their chance to right that wrong.

Monte-en-l'Air laughed. "Please. They could barely keep the lights on – let alone keep the prison secure. It's like they were asking us to escape. Besides," he added, "with everything else that's been happening lately, it's hardly like they've missed me…"

"It's over," Multiplice told him. She cocked her head, eyes narrowed suspiciously, and fingered the handle of her jump rope. "Are you going to come with us the easy way, or do I need to take you in?" Whipping her jump rope out, she cracked it against the brickwork beside her.

Monte-en-l'Air flinched, his eyes drifting upward toward the bubble of darkness that still covered the top of the apartment building. From the darkness came a yelp of surprise, following by a dull metallic clang. Halfway up the wall, Sk8r Girl had pulled herself onto a balcony and was looking back and forth between the darkness above where the Lancer had vanished, and the standoff on the street below. Monte-en-l'Air met her gaze and his eyes narrowed before he turned back to face Multiplice. Shifting his weight back and forth, he eyed the alleyways to either side of them, a calculating look in his eye. "No, I don't think I will," he replied. "Prison doesn't exactly agree with me."

Sk8r Girl slipped over the railing and started climbing back down the side of the building.

Multiplice gave her head a sharp jerk, and Sk8r Girl paused. Multiplice's eyes narrowed. "It wasn't a request. You're done robbing people's homes and stealing all their stuff."

"I'm not a robber!" he retorted indignantly. "I'm a burglar. I'll sneak into someone's house and take things from them. But I wouldn't ever hurt them." He gave her a look. "And anyways, if they live in these apartment buildings, they're not going to be out on the street if I take a little bit for myself."

Multiplice snorted. "You're a real Robin Hood, I'm sure. That still doesn't make it any better," she pointed out, turning the jump rope handle over and over in her hand. A crash came from overhead. She glanced up to see that the darkness on the roof had ascended further, swirling and flickering around. "How are you doing that?" she demanded.

Monte-en-l'Air smirked. "You're not the only one with friends."

"Is that my cue?" called Sk8r Girl, letting out a howl – immediately answered by barks from the alleyway below her. Sk8r Girl reached back and drew her field hockey stick.

"Help the Lancer," Multiplice told Sk8r Girl. Glancing to her left, she gave a reassuring grin. "Gymnaste and I can handle this guy. Right?"

La Gymnaste started, her eyes widening with fear. "O–of course, Multiplice!" She nodded, tension evident in her arms and shoulders.

"Sure." Monte-en-l'Air laughed. "You've definitely convinced me."

Sk8r Girl let out a muttered curse.

Multiplice gritted her teeth, her eyes narrowed intensely, and risked taking her eyes off of Monte-en-l'Air for the quickest moment to look at la Gymnaste. "Come on," she urged her. "There's a reason you're here with me. You can do this – I know you can. We'll take care of him together. Okay?"

La Gymnaste swallowed, gritting her teeth. "O–okay."

Turning all her focus back on Monte-en-l'Air, Multiplice tried to put la Gymnaste's fear out of her mind. This wasn't what she had expected for tonight, but maybe it was exactly what la Gymnaste needed. She needed to trust her team to have her back. She needed to focus on the mission at hand. She couldn't let herself be distracted. But as the moment drew out, Multiplice could feel a fluttering in her stomach; she tried to keep the sudden bile down. The baby! This was what Sabrina had warned her about, the reason Marinette didn't want her patrolling. Here she was, out in the middle of the night, facing off against a criminal… and she would never forgive herself if she got her baby hurt in a superhero fight. But at the same time, it was just Monte-en-l'Air. He was a burglar – so far as they knew, he had never hurt anyone. He didn't have superpowers. And she wasn't facing him alone. She had friends.

Still, the sooner she could end this, the better.

Monte-en-l'Air started to open his mouth to speak. Before he could say anything, however, Multiplice flicked out her jump rope at him, aiming to loop it around his torso. Monte-en-l'Air drew in a sharp breath, his eyes widening as the jump rope cut across the distance and swung around his back to cinch back onto itself. Just before the jump rope could pull tight around him, however, he leapt backward, bending around almost in half and raising his hands over his head. The jump rope closed around empty space, and Monte-en-l'Air landed on his hands in a backward cartwheel, pushing off the ground straight toward the brick wall behind him. His heels bumped the edge of the building as he landed, and he slammed his back into the wall, letting out a grunt. He blinked dumbly, shaking his head.

Pulling back her jump rope, Multiplice swung it around her head and lashed at him again, nearly catching the rope around his arm before he could pull it out of the way. "You're coming in with us!" she shouted. "You're outnumbered!"

"Yeah! You won't get away from both of us!" la Gymnaste yelled. Hesitantly, she drew her collapsible staff off her belt and pressed the button to extend it to full length. Giving it a twirl, she moved to her right, toward Monte-en-l'Air's exposed side. At the same time, Multiplice bore down on him from the front, boxing him in against the wall.

Monte-en-l'Air glanced in either direction as Multiplice approached him, before finally moving to dive to his left, straight for la Gymnaste. With a yelp, la Gymnaste stumbled backward, away from Monte-en-l'Air, waving her staff wildly in front of her. Multiplice quickly threw her jump rope in that direction and looped it around a bar connected to the doorway between Monte-en-l'Air and la Gymnaste to block his escape; at that same moment, Monte-en-l'Air pivoted and lunged in the opposite direction, toward the open street.

"Not so fast!" called Multiplice. Her jump rope still looped around the pole, she sidestepped to interpose herself between him and his escape, bracing her legs and holding one arm out defensively. Monte-en-l'Air's eyes widened, and he swung a wild punch at her gut. With a flick of her wrist, Multiplice detached her jump rope and recalled it, knowing that it would be too late to shield herself. She gasped, dropping her other arm lower instinctively to block the blow. Time seemed to slow down as Monte-en-l'Air drew back his punch at the last moment and instead lowered his shoulder. He barreled forward, straight into her, and slammed her to the ground.

Multiplice threw out her jump rope and let out an involuntary yelp, bringing her arms in close to protect herself, trying to roll to one side just before impact.