Waldo twisted tight the final screw in his apparatus and wasted no time. He took aim straight up and fired.
The chain unspooled, the hook snagged a ledge, and Waldo was yanked up into the air, over the heads of the shrieking mob. He landed, hung to the ledge and wound up the chain, carefully keeping one eye on the flying tarantula. Then he fired again, launching himself up the side of the very spire itself. Anyone who peered out their window to see the monstrous flying spider was doubly shocked to see its pursuer, the little boy propelling himself up the spire from balcony to rooftop to catwalk.
About halfway to the top of the spire, the tarantula flew through an open window into a house, and Waldo followed close behind. A local family screamed and leapt up from their dinner table as Waldo came shooting through their home on his spring-powered line, scattering dishes and books and bowls of discarded pistachio-bug shells. The tarantula zoomed out, up, and back into another house above, weaving a dizzy path through the tunnels, always two steps ahead of Waldo and leaving behind a trail of paralyzed victims for him to follow.
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