Assault 'n Vinegar

Chemistry major Crystal Czation suffers long hours of tedious drudgery as a night shift maintenance engineer at the the Ye Ol' Block potato chip company to pay for her tuition.
That all changed six months ago when she was inadvertently caught in a freak nucleate meltdown on the plants' salt and vinegar vacuum sealer assembly line which transformed her to...
SUPER SATUMATRON!-atron!-tron!-ron!-on!-n!

While conferring no actual super powers upon her, Crystals' overactive and bored stiff imagination conjures up a way to use the vast chemical resources at her employers' disposal to fight crime in her city.
That very night/morning on her usual walk home, un-costumed and armed with nothing more than a spray bottle of sodium acetate swiped from the store-room and her wits, our heroine fends off a would-be mugger by spraying the solution at his repugnant mug.
She watches his hands quickly crystallize to his face amid screams of, "It burns, it burns!", and as she hoofs'm in the nards she realizes that she need never ever again walk the night/morning in fear.

She begins her experimentations in earnest.

Feverish months pass as formula after formula are discarded until just the right concoction, the mix she dubs thixoferroflacetate, is created which keeps the sodium acetate stable as a solid at room temperature until ejected and contains microscopic suspended ferrous particles.
The main component of her super suit are the two canisters of solution, carried as a back-pack, with tubes running up her inner arms and to the tips of each boot to be released as a coherent stream or ever finer mist.
Custom gloves and boot soles containing tiny rheostat controlled electro-magnets allow her to climb any building with ease as she clings tenaciously to well placed hoarfrost ferro-crystals, and her hastily built instant ice sculptures create portable stairs, inclines, bridges and simple shapes to be constructed as fast as her reflexes allow.
A myriad assortment of weaponry from ice-grenades to tumbler shattering lock-picks complete the ensemble.

The criminal element is unable to find her aciduously hidden base she dyslexically calls her CHaCOON3 and, as tales of her exploits begin to permeate the seedy underbelly of the crime riddled streets, evildoers learn to dread her battle cries of; "Pucker-up scumbag, and Carpe Dium!"
…
which they don't really get...
but it scares them even more for just that very reason!

That's right creep-oids, the city has a new buffer against crime.
A benevolent diacetater if you will.

You can run,
but you can't hydroxide from:

SUPER SATUMATRON!-atron!-tron!-ron!-on!-n!