Curse of Arachnaman by Hayden Thorne Page B

careful, okay?"
    I promised. After saying goodbye, which always took us around five more minutes before actually hanging up the phone, I decided to get a little more involved in superhero work, even if only as a “casual observer” of the unusual. Maybe I could recruit Freddie, seeing as how his chameleon powers could work pretty darned well for my purpose.
    Too bad I didn't exactly know the first thing about detective work, but, hey, I was open to on-the-job training. Or whatever.
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Chapter 8
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    You know, there's a special place in hell for bullies of all stripes. I mean, Gorilla Grip Cohen has reserved seating waiting for him when the time comes, and I'm sure it'll be at Satan's right hand. Hopefully inside his Latrine of Fire. For other jerks, though...
    I was on my way home from my tutorial with Dr. Dibbs, when I spotted a kid who looked about my age or slightly younger being taunted by a couple of older ones. He wasn't really responding to them, and I guess that was a good sign that he was smart enough not to lower himself to their level, but it still pissed me off. I mean, I'd been there before.
    The kid was overweight. Not obese, but overweight enough to be picked on. He also had tons of freckles along with curly red hair, which made him an even bigger target for stupid jokes. He didn't look poor or anything. He was actually dressed up pretty nice, a backpack slung over his shoulder, but that didn't stop those morons. They looked like total punks who also might have been jocks at the same time. I mean, they were pretty built for their age, dressed in tattered jackets and denim. I wouldn't have been surprised if they'd carried those little switchblades in their pockets. Seriously, I couldn't get any better in describing a couple of cliches.
    "Hey, have you seen pigs fly?” one of them asked as they trotted behind the kid, every once in a while reaching out to tug at his backpack or give him a “playful” shove.
    "Nope, but maybe ol’ Big Bird here might want to show us how it's done,” his buddy replied. “Hey, Biggie, how about jumping off a roof and showing us how it's done, huh?"
    They went on for a couple more moments, poking and laughing, calling the kid names, and I saw that among those who were walking around the general area, no one seemed to be aware of what was going on. Then again, maybe they'd grown pretty indifferent to other people's misery. We were at a small side street that didn't have a lot of pedestrians since rundown tenements surrounded us, not shops. I kind of figured that those idiots hung around the area and just decided to have fun at this poor guy's expense. Since I was at the cross-street, waiting for the light to change when they appeared, I decided to jump in.
    "Hey! Leave him alone!” I called out.
    "Huh? What? Leave who alone, faggot?” one of them yelled back, and his friend laughed, giving me the middle finger. “Oh, you mean Baby Huey over here?” He gave the kid another quick shove. The boy stumbled forward a couple of steps, but he just set his mouth in a grim line and adjusted his backpack. He didn't break his stride, otherwise. I felt really bad; I was sure he was used to crap like this.
    "It's all fun and games,” his friend added. “Speaking of fun and games, how about giving us some fun, huh? It's been a while since I got to blow off steam."
    "Dude, seriously? That's lame,” his buddy said. I thought that was lame, too, but funny as hell. I mean, who'd want to get it on with that loser? I wouldn't be surprised if his hands had already filed a restraining order against the rest of his body.
    "Shut up. So how about it, huh, princess? You look a little anemic and skinny, but I'm sure you're used to kneeling down, and I'm not talking about praying, either.” Neanderthal Number One walked up to me and draped an arm around my shoulder. He looked me up and down before pointing at my legs. “You think he's got some pretty strong