Pyroclastica whipped around the corner of Bay onto Hyde street, perched on a pair of sleek new rollerblades. Her movements were swift and tight as she grabbed the bumper of a taxi and used it as leverage to swing herself uphill to a minivan, from which she swung again to a luxury car of some sort.

She peaked the hill on the corner of Hyde and Lombard, and used her vantage point to survey the steep hill and straight line of Lombard as it shot west toward Golden Gate Park. Already the lights and sirens of the police cruisers marked the chase, the dark sedan that was their quarry ducking dangerously in and out of the evening traffic.

Pyroclastica tipped herself over the edge, and crouched like a downhill skier as she bladed down the steep street. She dodged expertly in and out of traffic, ignoring the honks and angry yells, intent on reaching the black sedan before it was able to cross over the Golden Gate Bridge into the North Bay.

As Lombard leveled out at Van Ness, she used the amazing momentum she'd gained to springboard over a bus, and grabbed at the electrical cables overhead with her gloved right hand to swing herself out of the way of an RV. She skated over the top of it, dropped down on the other side, and sped down the middle lane west-bound, dodging in between lanes and cars. She passed the police cruisers one by one, and made sure she caught the chief's eye as she moved forward, between them and the black sedan.

They entered Golden Gate Park. The sedan screeched its way around one police barrier, and then used its on-board psionic guns to blast through another. Pyroclastica cut her way through the park, using the paved walkways and winding roads she was growing ever more familiar with. She was able to spit out just behind the sedan as he continued on 101 North, and had to dodge the debris the black sedan left behind.

She was finally able to get a clear patch and burst forward, sliding between the sedan and the concrete medium, and then leaping and grinding on the median as the sedan tried to crush her. From here, she leapt onto the top of the sedan and dropped to her knees, her left hand gripping the corner of the roof as the sedan jimmied in an attempt to throw her.

Holding on tight with her left hand, she pulled her glove off with her teeth and plunged her right hand flat against the roof of the sedan. The shining black roof of the car glowed red beneath her touch, and smoke rose as it gave way in a liquid, gooey mess, her arm plunging in as if she'd pushed through wet tissue paper.

The driver grabbed her elbow, past the lava-touch of her hand, and yanked hard, causing her head to smack against the roof. She lost her grip with her left and and started to slide off, but grabbed onto the roof with her right. It melted away, leaving an open strip, and yielded to her touch instead of giving her the purchase she needed. In a last minute effort to save herself from being spilled onto the street, she grabbed the door handle and held on tight. She dodged one effort to smash her into the barrier, but she noticed the child inside the car pressed against the glass, looking at her desperately, hopefully, and she missed as the car neared the toll plaza; an impressive barricade had been set up, and the bridge had been nearly emptied as they had made their way toward it. The sedan used its psionics to easily blast a hole in the barricade, the police officers guarding it diving aside for their lives, and the car scraped its side against the ragged edge, causing Pyroclasica to let go and tumble away, leaving steaming pock marks in the road each time her right hand hit the pavement.

She stood and watched as it made its way across the bridge. The police gathered behind her, watching, wondering. She was scowling.

"So, that's how you want to play? Fine." She rolled over to the side of the bridge and grabbed onto one of the thick vertical cables with her right hand. It burned through, snapping with a metallic TWANG. Pyroclastica pulled her glove back on and grabbed the cable like a vine, sliding carefully onto the outer catwalk and pausing a moment, and then blading quickly south before leaping off the bridge, swinging around and north on the cable, and let go and somersaulted through the air to land in front of the sedan, rip her glove off, and thrust it deep into the heart of the engine as it came to a screeching halt in front of her.

It died, the hole she had made still glowing incandescent and smoking as she pulled her hand out and put her glove back on. She quirked her head as the driver's side door opened.

"Hot enough for ya, Yori Bekhoff?" She smirked.

The tall, scarred Russian that stepped from the car regarded her as more of an annoyance than anything else, and held a smaller version of the sedan's psionic weapon in one hand. The other hand he had clenched on the arm of the young girl he had kidnapped.

"You think you've won, don't you?" He snarled at her.

"Uh, it would appear that way, yeh. There's a barricade on the other side of the bridge, too, and the police are coming up from the south right now, and sorry about your car, man, looks like the engine died." She gave a non-committal shrug, and then dropped all pretense. "Now hand over the girl and I won't be forced to high-five your face."

"I will never turn my greatest experiment to the likes of you!" He retorted, and suddenly looked up. Pyroclastica had become increasingly aware of a hovering helicopter, but had thought it was one of the news stations. What she saw when she looked up was a black, unmarked helicopter that was dropping a line down to Bekhoff and his quarry. She started toward them, but he got off a shot from his psionic gun, causing Pyroclastica to dodge and stumble.

"You idiot!" She seethed through clenched teeth as she rose. He had dropped the gun, probably a one time use, and had hoisted the girl to him before grabbing onto the ladder.

"Send my regards too your mother!" He called as the helicopter rose, taking him up and out of the cage of suspension cables and west towards the open ocean.

Pyroclastica, going more on impulse than anyhting else, bladed to the edge, ripping off her glove and discarding it on the roadway, and then grabbed another cable, and swung out over the water. She let go and reached for the runners of the helicopter, thinking she had enough momentum, but she fell short and it tacked away at the last minute. She had one glimpse of it retreating, the heavy throbbing of the rotary blades fading, and then she turned her attention to the rapidly approaching water.

"Oh, *****."

She held her right hand in front of her and cringed. She hit the surface in a big boiling steaming ball, white rising and wisping up towards the bridge where the police had gathered to watch in anticipation

Beneath the water, she had curled up into a fetal position, holding her breath. Her hand continued to glow in the cracks between the hardening black
pieces of lava cooled by the bay water. Still, it was hot enough to steam and boil the water around it, causing a constant stream of bubbles to emit from it and wiggle their way to the surface. After a moment, Pyroclastica followed, pausing only to discard her troublesome Rollerblades, burning through the laces and part of the blades with her right hand, and then she kicked to the surface. A tugboat was coming around to collect her as two police choppers were seen in the distance, pursuing the escaped kidnapper.

Once on the tugboat, her glove in place and a blanket thrown over her shoulders, she sat down with the police chief.

He handed her a cup of tea.

"Ah, you remembered." She said, taking a sip.

"Everyone drinks coffee." he said. "You stick out like an ice pick at a balloon-animal convention for your predilection for tea."

"Oh, so its not just the hair and costume?"

The police chief sighed heavily as he sat beside her. "Bekhoff has really crossed the line, this time."

"Where is he taking her?"

"Oh, who knows? We're still trying to unencrypt those files you were able to steal last month."

"Still?!"

"His encryptions are strong stuff, Py! Ive got my best men working on it, and heaven knows there's plenty for them to do besides!"

Pyroclastica sipped thoughtfully at her tea. "He was headed west, right?"

"Nearly due. I've got my men on him, but he's given us the slip before. Why, do you know something?"

Pyroclastica gave a small shrug. "Not really, but I've known other villains who have taken a liking to volcanic lairs and empty-magma-chamber hideouts, and he was headed very nearly in the direction of Hawaii."

"So you think he's going there?"

She smiled. "Not only do I think so, but I desperately hope so; that would completely be my element!"

"I see what you mean ..."

"But I'd better get some different transportation; I don't care how good the maneuverability is with those roller blades, they hung me down in the end. Isn't there something I could put on and remove at will? Or how about a fancy car, can I have a fancy car?"

"Well, I've been working with our finances department, and I was able to get you something. It's not much, and it's not quite fancy, but I think it'll do the trick."

"Great, that's awesome! I can tweak it out later, show me!"

Once they got back to The City, the police chief took her to the main garages. "We've already had it painted to match your costume, although we hesitated at putting your logo on it; didn't want to make it too noticeable."

"Understandable."

"We'll be sending it with you when you continue on to Hawaii. Pyroclastica, meet the Pyromobile;"

They rounded the corner with a flourish and Pyroclastica stopped dead in her tracks. At first she couldn't respond, thinking it was a joke and waiting for the punchline, but the silence that stretched on into awkwardness confirmed her fears that he was actually serious. Her hand pulsed.

"You mean to say ..." She said evenly, through clenched teeth, "that my superhero car ... my vehicle to aid justice ... is a SMART CAR?! Any villain could sneeze that thing into smithereens!"

"What? Oh, come on now, be reasonable! It's been a hard year ..."

"Fine. I'll take it, but I want to be assured that you and your department will do whatever it takes to kill any snickering, okay? I don't want to end up the laughing stock of the hero world because my superhero car is the size of a peanut."

The Police Chief sighed. "Why don't you just ... take it out for a spin, okay? Nab some small time crooks, get a feel for it. I think you'll be amazed by the maneuverability and tight spots it can fit into ..."

"Fine. Fine fine fine! I can't believe this ..." She climbed into the not-quite-big-enoug-to-be-a-car-car and started the engine, then drove off into the night filled with nothing but disappointment at not being able to nab Bekhoff and save the young girl, and embarrassment at now having to patrol the City in a glorified scooter.