Her suit felt… different, somehow. Was it the added padding around her middle? The slight bump, barely noticeable if you weren't really looking for it? Or maybe there wasn't anything really "different," and she was just building it up in her mind into something more than it really needed to be. Before leaving the apartment, she had checked herself in the mirror a dozen times – everything was in place still. The ears, mask, nose… all of it was there. She still looked the part. But still. Something was different now, and she couldn't pretend otherwise. Standing in the alley just down the street from her apartment building where she had transformed for patrol a dozen times over the months since she and Ivan had moved in together after their wedding in Angola, Multiplice suppressed a frown, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
Mullo had assured her a dozen times that evening that nothing bad would happen to her or to the baby tonight – even if by some miracle they found something dangerous. Dr. Ouazani had told her the same at her last checkup: the real risk would only come near the end of the pregnancy; at this point, the baby had barely started to form. Her own body would provide more than enough protection, even without Mullo's adjustments to the suit.
And yet, regardless of that nervous sensation, Multiplice couldn't deny the tiny thrill that came from transforming and going out to patrol her city, even if this might be the last time for seven months – or even longer.
"Thanks for inviting me for tonight," the Lancer told her, hovering a few centimeters off the ground, just inside the mouth of the alley and rotating slowly to scan the streets in either direction leading away from their meeting point. "It's… it's been far too long since I saw most of my friends."
"Of course!" Multiplice assured her, smiling brightly. Her breathing evened out as she started to relax. "And you don't actually need to wait for me to call; if you want to stop over some evening after work, you're welcome to do it!"
Leaning against her field hockey stick, Sk8r Girl laughed. "Not that long since any of us have seen you, of course, 'Rore," she observed. The Lancer froze mid-rotation. "It's pretty awesome that they've been giving you your own clip on the weather."
With a tinny exhale, the Lancer rotated slightly to face Sk8r Girl before dropping to the ground with a clunk. "I really did get lucky," she admitted, nodding. "I half expected to lose any chance of ever working there again after what happened – I missed over a week without any explanation. But… it all worked out." She hummed humorlessly. "Of course, it didn't exactly hurt matters when the pictures from the Champ de Mars got out…" Shaking her head, she groaned. "Did I tell you that our producer asked me to record a weather clip as the Lancer the week after Lila's arrest?"
Multiplice's eyes widened. "Really? But why?"
The Lancer shrugged. "Something about 'viewership' and 'ratings.' I don't know. I tuned out after he suggested it."
"I mean, knowing that the weather girl is a superhero wouldn't exactly be bad for ratings…" Sk8r Girl mused slowly, cocking her head toward the Lancer.
"I didn't accept this for ratings," the Lancer retorted heatedly, smacking the butt of her lance against the pavement. "I wasn't looking for popularity, or fame, or any of that. I wanted to be a hero so I could help other people – not to help myself. This isn't a toy, or something to use frivolously. It's a weapon, a symbol of something greater than just me." She paused. "Besides, if I'm going to be a TV meteorologist, I'd rather do it so people can see my face."
"Relax," Sk8r Girl interjected, waving a hand dismissively and shaking her head. "Jeez. I get it. You don't see me giving Louvre tours in pads – even when I'm showing people the hall where Jalil's… 'little friend' first came out to play. Still," she added, raising her facemask and arching an eyebrow at the Lancer, "there should be some perks to being a superhero and also being on TV. I mean, how many other weather reporters do you know of who could survive in the middle of a hurricane?"
"All of them." The Lancer snorted. "The eye of the storm is actually the safest spot, since all the wind is rotating out from there."
"Ha, ha," Sk8r Girl drawled, rolling her eyes. "Flying in the middle of a tornado then."
Tapping her chin, the Lancer hummed. "That's true… Not that we get a lot of tornados in Paris!"
Sk8r Girl gave her a deadpan look. "You just had to say that, didn't you?"
"Sorry I'm late!" La Gymnaste raced up to the trio from the direction of their apartment building and nearly ran into Multiplice, who caught her easily with a hand on her shoulder. Leaning against the brick wall next to her, la Gymnaste bent over nearly double, her hands on her thighs, panting for breath. "I had some trouble finding my new staff – it was in my closet, but I forgot I'd collapsed it when I put it there."
"That's fine!" Multiplice assured her, squeezing her shoulder and smiling. "I'm glad you made it. Now that we're all here, we can get going!"
La Gymnaste looked up at the Lancer and Sk8r Girl in surprise before letting out a relieved sigh and straightening up. "I'm glad I'm not the only one coming with you," she observed.
Multiplice nodded, glancing around the small group. "I thought it might be good to bring a couple more friends along, just in case," she agreed. "The four of us should be more than enough for a burglar – if we even spot them."
The Lancer cocked her head to one side. "Speaking of, you never specified exactly what the mission is for tonight."
"There have been a handful of break-ins around this neighborhood over the past few weeks," Multiplice explained. "Jewelry, money, electronics… But no clues to who might be responsible. The police haven't been able to figure out who it is, so I figured we could take a look around – we might be able to spot something tonight and stop them."
La Gymnaste's eyes widened slightly. "Has anyone been hurt in these break-ins?"
Multiplice shook her head. "Not that I've heard about, at least. From the reports, no one has ever been home when the break-ins occurred."
"I wonder if that's intentional…" mused the Lancer. "Burglar who doesn't want innocent people getting hurt – or just doesn't want witnesses."
"Probably don't want to draw any attention to themselves," Sk8r Girl observed slowly before letting out a piercing shriek – answered moments later from somewhere above them. "Now let's see if they've spotted anything lately…" she murmured, eyeing the sky carefully.
The Lancer folded her arms around the lance. "We should be more than a match for them – whoever they are."
"That's the idea!" Multiplice agreed, as the four heroes set off down the block, moving away from Multiplice's apartment building. With a muttered word, the Lancer rose a half-meter into the air and drifted a little down the block ahead of them, roughly level with the streetlights; Sk8r Girl dropped back to jog next to Multiplice, who raised an eyebrow at her expectantly.
"Why don't you keep an eye ahead of us with 'Rore," Sk8r Girl suggested to la Gymnaste.
"O–okay," agreed la Gymnaste hesitantly, putting on a burst of speed to catch up to the Lancer.
Multiplice pursed her lips. "Don't tell her what to do," she chided Sk8r Girl. "She has a hard enough time standing up for herself since Lila got done with her, without us bossing her around, too."
Sk8r Girl gave her a deadpan look. "She'll get over it. Besides, I'd rather talk to you in private, as opposed to in front of 'Rore and Nadine."
Multiplice raised an eyebrow in invitation. "Well?"
"Does Ivan know about this?" demanded Sk8r Girl, her voice laced with doubt. Her helmet inclined slightly toward Multiplice's belly. "I'm not even gonna ask about Mar; there's no way she would approve of this."
Multiplice stifled a giggle. "What Marinette doesn't know won't hurt her."
"It's not Marinette I would be worried about…" Sk8r Girl muttered under her breath.
"Either way." Multiplice rolled her shoulders. "We're going to be fine tonight. Nadine just needs a chance to feel like a valued member of the Heroes of Paris for once – since we rescued her from Lila, she's been… drifting. This way she can feel like she's really a part of the Heroes of Paris. The thing Lila promised but never delivered."
Sk8r Girl hummed. "I coulda sworn she already was part of the Heroes of Paris. She did help us put Lila away. In Lyon and in court."
"She did," Multiplice agreed. "But does she see it that way?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Fair," Sk8r Girl conceded.
"And as for Ivan," Multiplice continued, "of course he knows we're going out tonight. I'm not going to hide something like this from him. He knows we're doing this, and where we're going to be. he would have come, but he has rehearsal tonight. But he did say he might check in on us after rehearsal is over, if we're still out here."
"Good."
Multiplice folded her arms, fixing Sk8r Girl with an annoyed look. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, you know."
Sk8r Girl scoffed. "Sure."