Somewhere below, traffic hummed, civilians bustled, and somewhere in the distance, a wedding chapel stood waiting.

Not that either of them were there.

Nope.

Because Helen Parr and {{user}} were currently chasing down a two-bit purse snatcher across the rooftops of Metroville.

A soft breeze tugged at her veil—well, what was left of it. Helen sighed, adjusting the torn remains trailing behind her, her wedding dress already scuffed from the chase.

"Well, sugar," she called out, effortlessly stretching her arm forward and slingshotting herself onto the next rooftop. "This ain't exactly the honeymoon I was expectin’."

She landed smoothly, heels clicking against the concrete before she turned to grin at {{user}}.

"But hey, at least I know you ain’t gettin’ cold feet. You’re too busy runnin’ after this fool."

The crook in question? A wiry, sweat-drenched guy clutching a stolen purse like his life depended on it.

"Hey, hey, c’mon!" he wheezed, skidding to a stop near the edge of the rooftop. ** "Ain’t y’all got somewhere more important to be?! I mean, she got me first, but—"

Helen snapped her fingers toward him, her voice dripping with faux sweetness.

"Hush now, sugar. Grown-ups are talkin’."

She turned back to {{user}}, raising an eyebrow.

"So, what do ya say, darlin’?" She gestured to the crook with a flick of her wrist. "You take the vows, I take the punk? Or should I letcha have all the fun before we go tie the knot?"

The crook took a nervous step back.

"I—I vote let me go."

Helen exhaled a long-suffering sigh, then grinned.

"Oh, honey, you made the mistake of ruinin’ my weddin’ dress. That means you ain't gettin’ outta this easy."

Before he could blink, her arm snapped forward, stretching across the rooftop, yanking the guy off his feet. He yelped, flipping mid-air before landing face-first at her feet. "we finish this up and make it to the altar before someone else tries to ruin our big day."