WRITER'S NOTE: The following Hey Arnold! fanfiction is a sequel to the episode "New Bully On The Block” written by the master himself, Craig Bartlett. This is the untold story of how Arnold and the gang got Gerald Field back from those two jerks Wolfgang and Ludwig, with the use of some paintball markers, and a little help from...well, you'll see. This fanfic includes parodies of some of my favorite movies: “Star Wars” and “Saving Private Ryan” as well as some tender Arnold and Helga moments later on, of course. -D.R.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold! nor did I create the characters (With only a couple of exceptions) . . . Master Craig Bartlett holds that honor alone.

The Paintball Fight

By DarthRoden (a.k.a. Carl)

Dedicated to the memory of my faithful little buddy, Elvis . . . the best and only Iguana that I ever owned. I miss you little guy...and I finished off the crickets and mealworms you didn’t get to eat. "Mmm . . . slimy, yet satisfying.”

Part One: The Challenge and The Bet

It was a warm, sunny Saturday afternoon in the City of Hillwood. Not too hot despite being both June and early afternoon. It was that special time of the day, right after Saturday morning cartoons, where kids are just gathering for group activities meant for the summer, including basketball, swimming, soccer, bike riding, and a number of other sporting activities.

That particular afternoon, a small crowd of nine year olds were standing in front of “Craig's Discount Sporting Goods Shop.” Arnold, Gerald, Helga, Phoebe, Harold, Curly, Rhonda, Nadine, Eugene and Sheena were all gathered around the large store front window, looking in at the very latest merchandise on display.

The current theme for this season was the increasingly popular sport of paintball and one item in particular caught the eye of both Sid and Gerald.

"There it is, Arnold," Gerald said to his best friend, the amazement clear in his voice as he looked lovingly at the centerpiece of the display, a large red and black painted paintball gun sitting proudly on a rack. It looked so new it actually seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. "The new Paintmaster 2000 XP Series 1 Paintball Marker."

"It's so wicked awesome!" Sid said, his nose was right up against the glass looking as if he wished that his birthday, or Christmas would come earlier.

"Yep, I reckon that there is the best gal dang paintball gun I ever did see," Stinky said with his usual nasal country twang, smiling as he too looked at the red and black gun.

Gerald continued, "Yeah man, it's got a feed of ten paint balls per second, adjusts to fire both semi and full automatic, and effective range of a hundred and twenty yards and comes with a tank that holds up to four hundred paint balls."

"I didn't know that you played paintball, Gerald," Arnold observed of his best friend, a curious expression set on his oblong face.

"Well, I don't man, but you have to admit, this gun is just way too cool," Gerald explained. He was agreed with by all of the boys, who looked at it awestruck.

"Criminey, it's just a stupid gun," Helga said, adding in her two cents grumpily. "We should be out doing something more important that drooling over some dumb toy gun in a store window."

"There isn't much we can do anymore," Eugene said to her. "We lost the last couple of baseballs playing in the street yesterday, remember?"

All of the kids grumbled or sighed a little at that. It hadn't been their best moment when their last baseball was foul tipped into a gutter. Some of them looked at Harold, who immediately went defensive.

"It wasn't my fault we lost the stupid ball," he whined, frowning at them.

Suddenly a couple of tall, thick shadows fell over the nine year olds.

"Well, well, well," Came a mocking voice from behind them that was about as pleasant as nails on a blackboard, and about as welcome too. "If it isn't the little fourth grade losers!"

"Yeah," Came another mocking voice, that was equally as annoying. "How are ya doing, football-face?"

The gang turned to see two people they defiantly didn't want to see today, or any other day for that matter. Two extremely large fifth grade boys and about eight of their gang who stood right behind them in a formidable display of force.

"Wilkers! It's Wolfgang!" Exclaimed Stinky nervously, pointing at the large boy on the right with blonde hair and a sneering face.

"And Ludwig," Scowled Gerald, glaring at the equally large brown-haired boy who was smirking nastily at all of them.

"And – and some other guys!" Added Sid nervously looking at the eight fifth graders behind them.

"What are you guys doing here?" Arnold asked defiantly as he stood before Wolfgang and Ludwig, two of the worst bullies in the neighborhood.

"Well, if you have to know, were here to buy some more footballs for out games in OUR vacant lot," Ludwig informed him, smiling a cool smile and stressing those last words.

"Hey man, don't you mean 'Gerald Field'?" Gerald asked, scowling at Ludwig.

"We mean, the vacant lot, dweeb," Wolfgang said, shoving Gerald slightly and smirking widely in undisguised glee. "Or maybe you forgot that you losers lost your precious lot to us?"

There was no way any of the fourth graders would soon forget the way that Wolfgang and his new pal, Ludwig bullied them out of Gerald Field, the vacant lot they used to play baseball and other sports in. It had only happened a few weeks ago, but the loss still bothered all of them, Arnold especially, since they were the ones who cleaned it up and turned it into a suitable playground in the first place.

"Humm, now that you mention it, Wolfgang, now that it's OUR vacant lot, maybe we should go ahead and change the name," Ludwig mocked, seeming to enjoy twisting the knife.

"Yeah," said Wolfgang, picking up on his partner's meaning. "Maybe we should call it, 'Wolfgang's Lot' or 'Ludwig Field'? What do you think?"

Gerald's eyes widened at that particular insult.

Arnold had enough with the two older boys taunting at them. He took a bold step forward towards the bullies, giving them a look he rarely ever gave to anyone, a cold as ice angry look. Gerald stood next to him, glaring at the bullies in defiance.

"That's OUR field!" Arnold protested, his half-lidded eyes narrowing. "We were there first! We cleaned it up and turned it into 'Gerald Field'! It's our lot!"

The two bullies looked at one another, smiled and pulled back their fists to punch Arnold. Both Arnold and Gerald flinched back, as did all of the fourth graders wide-eyed, causing the two bullies and their friends to burst into hysterical laughter.

"Oh that's rich, football-head!" Wolfgang said to Arnold through his heaves of laughter.

Helga blinked, then scowled and moved over to a position next to her beloved Arnold, on the opposite side as Gerald. "Hey you big goon, nobody calls him 'football-head' but me! You got that, bucko!"

Arnold was grateful to Gerald and Helga too, though he was worried that the bullies may try to hurt them also if things got out of hand.

"You listen to me and you listen good, you little yellow-haired twerp," Ludwig said, putting a thick finger on Arnold's chest. "It's our vacant lot now and there ain't nuthin' you, or these other losers can do about it!"

"Well, why don't you play us for it then?" Arnold asked, the words coming out of his mouth before he really thought about them.

Both Gerald and Helga were looking at him in surprise. Together they both said, "Huh?"

Arnold, feeling even bolder, continued. "Why don't you two and your gang play all of us for it. The winner gets full claim to 'Gerald Field'."

Now both of the bullies looked down at Arnold as though they thought he were crazy. Then they looked at each other and laughed hard again.

"Why the heck should be play against you little snots?" Wolfgang asked frowning at them.

"Yeah," Ludwig agreed and added with a scornful look in Arnold's direction, "We have the lot anyway, so why should we bother making any kind of bet with you Geeks?"

Again, both bullies and their gang all laughed at the fourth graders.

Now Helga was the one who felt bold. She glared back at the two fifth graders and said, with one of her usual smirks, "What's the matter, you two chuckle-heads scared that a bunch of fourth graders will kick your sorry butts?"

Arnold couldn't help but smile when he saw all traces of amusement fade from Wolfgang and Ludwig's faces. Helga sure has a way with people, he thought to himself.

"Okay, football-face! Your on!" Ludwig said glaring a little at Helga too. "We'll play you for the field. What game did you have in mind?"

Now Arnold was at a loss. What game could him and the gang play with the fifth graders? In almost every sport they were outmatched by the bullies in physical power. The best bet would be to find a sport where they can outsmart them somehow, but what? His eyes moved over to the display window and saw something that caught his eye.

A flyer was posted on the inside of the window. He briefly read the words written on it in red and black ink:

1ST ANNUAL HILLWOOD ALL-CITY TEAM PAINTBALL TOURNAMENT

Hosted by the Tri-State Paintball Alliance
Saturday, June 18th at 10 AM at Tina Park 5 and 10 Person Team Categories.
First Prize: $200.00 Cash Per Team Members And Trophy
Second Prize: $100.00 Cash Third Prize: Free Ice Cream at Slausens
See detail inside for Registration.

Arnold smiled slightly as the idea came to him a moment later. It was perfect. He turned his eyes back towards the two bullies and said, without even thinking, "How about a game of paintball at the All-City Team Paintball Tournament next Saturday?"

The challenge hung in the air between both the fifth grade bullies and the fourth graders, all of whom looked at Arnold in bewilderment and surprise. Gerald and Helga's mouths were hanging open, eyes wide in shock.

Wolfgang and Ludwig looked at one another, then smiled slowly and darkly, as if sharing some deep secret between themselves. They turned back to Arnold, smirking with perverse amusement.

"Okay, runt," Ludwig said, smiling coldly at Arnold. "You got yourself a deal. We'll play you little Geeks at the tournament, our gang against yours in a game of paintball. Winners take the vacant lot."

"You mean, 'Gerald Field' don't you, bubba?" Gerald said, stressing the lot's proper name.

"Yeah, yeah whatever," said Wolfgang impatiently, waving his hand flippantly.

"Okay, here are the rules," Arnold said, thinking now about the tournament set up. "Our teams enter the ten person category. Whoever gets further in the tournament wins."

Ludwig smiled widely and said, "That will work, but if our teams plays against one another during the tournament, whichever of us wins the match wins the bet too, got it?"

Arnold thought about it and said, "It's a deal then. You beat us, we will give up on Gerald Field and if we beat you, you give up the field once and for all. What do you say?"

Ludwig and Wolfgang looked at one another again, both grinning like they just won the game already and nodded. Then Ludwig looked back at Arnold and said nastily, "Done, monkey face. Oh and just to make sure you don't back out of our little deal, we're all going in to sign up for the tournament now."

Arnold nodded, "Okay."

Just then, Gerald grabbed Arnold's arm and whispered to him, "Um, Arnold, can I speak to you a moment?" Arnold nodded and walked over to the fourth graders with Gerald, all of whom were giving Arnold apprensive looks. Gerald was the first to speak.

"Arnold, are you out of your mind? We don't know the first thing about paintball!"

"Yeah, Arnold-o," Helga added, scowling in annoyance. "What are you trying to do, get us clobbered again!" The other nine year olds all muttered in agreement with Gerald and Helga.

"Listen guys," Arnold said to them, hoping to easy their worries. "I thought about this. We can't beat them any other way, they overpower us in every sport. Sure we don't know anything about paintball, but I am also willing to bet that Wolfgang and Ludwig don't either. That gives us an even chance against them."

Gerald still didn't look too convinced. "Oh man, I still don't know about this, Arnold." There was a lot of nervousness in his voice. Looking up, Arnold could see that all of them still looked apprehensive over the idea.

"Trust me guys, I thought about everything and I know we can do this," Arnold said, his voice was full of the bold confidence that all of them were used to whenever he decided that a cause was worth the risks. "They pushed us out of Gerald Field, took away our playground. Do you guys still want to keep losing baseballs playing in the street all day, avoiding cars all the time? I say we can beat them and get Gerald Field back. Now who's with me?"

None of them moved, and there was a long moment of silence, so quiet you could hear the background noises of the city. Finally, Gerald put a supportive hand on Arnold's left shoulder and said, "I've said it before, and I'll say it again...you’re a bold kid, Arnold. A bold kid." He smiled warmly at his best friend. "Okay man, I'm with you."

Helga scowled humorlessly on the outside, but deep inside her heart was beating a mile a minute at the courage of her little football-headed warrior. She stood on the other side of him, frowning and said, "Okay, I'm in too, but this had better work, football-head." She pointed a finger in his chest. Arnold smiled at Gerald then at her, making her knees feel weak thought she didn't show it.

Following the examples of Gerald and Helga, the rest of the fourth graders agreed, slightly heartened by Arnold's words.

"Thanks you guys," Arnold said smiling, now filled with absolute confidence. Then he turned back to the two fifth graders and said "Okay, lets go in and sign up."

"After you, shrimp," Wolfgang said, scowling and smirking menacingly.

As they were walking into the shop, Gerald asked his best friend quietly, "Hey Arnold, are you sure you thought this plan through?"

"Trust me, Gerald," Arnold said smiling. "I thought of everything. Nothing can go wrong."

Once inside, the two gangs of fourth and fifth graders walked over to the counter near the display window where a man stood watching them come in, automatically putting on his "sales representative" face. "Hey Wolfgang, what can I get you guys today?"

"We're here to sign these dweebs up for the paintball tournament, dude," Wolfgang said, without any pleasantries at all. He was all business here.

"Oh I see," the proprietor said looking at Arnold and the other fourth graders. He pulled out a clipboard and a pen and handed it out to Wolfgang. "Well here you are, kids. Just sign all of your names on the list." Wolfgang took it from him quickly.

"You first, football-face," Wolfgang said, shoving the clipboard in front of Arnold.

Arnold frowned at the older boy and then boldly, he took the pen and paper and signed his name. Then he handed it to Gerald, who still looked a little concerned about all this. Arnold's nod seemed to reassure him and he too signed it. After him, it was passed to Helga, who raised one side of her unibrow and frowned at the paper. Yet with determination set in her usually annoyed features, she too signed the paper. Very soon, all of the fourth graders signed the paper, the last one being Eugene.

Arnold looked at Wolfgang and Ludwig and said, "Okay, all of us signed our names. Now it's your turn." He handed the clipboard out between the two bullies.

Instead of taking the sign-up sheet and signing, both of the fifth graders looked at one another and began to laugh. Arnold blinked, feeling a bit confused. He looked back at Gerald and Helga, both of whom looked as confused as he was.

Finally, Ludwig said, "You know, I don't think were going to sign up right now after all." He smirked a little at Arnold then winked at Wolfgang.

"What? But we had a deal!" Arnold said, feeling his anger rising now. Behind him, he could hear the other fourth graders talking all at once angrily.

"Keep your shirts on, squirts," Wolfgang said, speaking up just then. "It just so happens we have a good reason we can't sign up right now."

"Oh yeah?" Helga said, taking a step forward and glaring at the two in disgust. "What might that be, lardboy?"

Ludwig smiled and said, "The reason we can't sign up now, is because we already signed up for the tournament last week."

Arnold looked at them and blinked. Behind him, Gerald and Helga both looked at each other in shock and turned to look at the bullies. All them of them said, "Huh!"

Wolfgang smirked and said, "Oh yeah, maybe I forgot to mention this, but me and Ludwig are both professionals at playing paintball. I've been playing since I was in third grade, always been on a winning team."

Ludwig added, twisting the knife in a little, "And I've been playing just as long. Won last year's tournament as a matter of fact." He grinned seeing the floored look all of the fourth graders were giving them and added, "Oh yeah, did I mention that I've never even been marked by a paintball in all the time I've played?"

Right now, Arnold could feel his brilliant plan evaporate before his very eyes. His stomach began to feel empty and his mouth turned dry. 'Wolfgang and Ludwig are both professionals! And I just agreed to play them for Gerald Field!' He looked back at the gang, all of whom were going though several degrees of shock and dismay at the unexpected turn of events. Apparently the full ramifications of Arnold's not-to-thought-out plan hit them like a ton of bricks.

The looks that both of the bullies were giving them said they too knew what Arnold and the fourth graders were thinking and were completely enjoying themselves.

"That's right, shrimp," Ludwig said, grinning at him. "Next Saturday, you little dweebs are going to get your butts painted." He laughed.

Wolfgang added, "Yeah, and don't even think of back out, or we will find you and you'll get worse." He pointed a large finger into Arnold's nose and scowled. "Next Saturday, were going to teach you fourth grade losers some respect. R...E...S...P...er um?" He paused and a blank look crossed his face.

Ludwig rolled his eyes at him, "Dude, it's R...E...P...E...um?" Now he too looked lost.

Finally, Wolfgang just said, "We're going to kick your tails!"

"Yeah!" Ludwig said, shaking his head. Then he added one last thing, "And if you don't show up, then the vacant lot is all ours, forever. See you Geeks on the field. Oh and don't forget to ." He laughed loudly and so did Wolfgang and they headed to the door, followed by their gang, all of whom join in at mocking Arnold and the others.

"He, he, that was a good one guys," Lenny said to Wolfgang and Ludwig as they went out the door.

"Shut up," they both said, annoyed.

"Um, right," Lenny added, as he too passed thought the doorway and exited the shop.

Now all of the fourth graders turned and glared at Arnold, who suddenly wished he was somewhere, anywhere other than right here.

"Trust me guys, I thought about everything and I know we can do this," Helga said, crossing her eyes and sarcastically imitating Arnold's words from before. Then she scowled at him and said, "Oh yeah, brilliant plan to get us all clobbered, Arnold-o!"

"Yeah Arnold," Sid said, frowning and pointing at him and frowning. "This is all your fault!"

"We're going to be killed next Saturday," Sheena said, looking very scared just then.

"This plan really bites," Stinky said, looking both angry at Arnold and very worried.

The rest spoke up echoing those sentiments, with Harold adding the words, "I outta pound you!"

Gerald turned and looked at Arnold, "They're right man, were going to get our buns handed to us next Saturday." He was more scared than angry.

Arnold looked at them, "Look guys, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean for this to happen."

Helga snorted, "Well, you better find a way of getting us out of this mess, football-head!" She raised Old Betsy and waved it right in front of his large nose. Arnold looked at the fist a little nervously.

"Yeah Arnold," Rhonda said, crossing her arms and frowning at him. "You got us into this mess, you better get us out of it!" Everyone else said the same thing.

"Just let me think a moment," Arnold said, trying to calm everyone. "Okay, let's look at the situation. We wanted to win Gerald Field back and we just agreed to play a game of paintball in a tournament next Saturday against the fifth graders, all of whom are professionals. We don't know anything about playing paintball, and we have one week to learn."

"In other words, were up a creek without a paddle, Arnold," Gerald told him, sighing.

"What we need is someone to coach us on how to play paintball," Arnold said, and then he looked up. "Maybe Coach Wittenberg can help us?"

"Oh no, man, not that guy!" Gerald said, shaking his head.

"Him and Trish went out of town for a few weeks anyhow," Helga said, speaking up just then. "Something about spending some quality time together."

"Besides man, we would need a professional paintball player to get us out of this mess anyhow," Gerald added.

Arnold sighed and looked very glum now, "I'm sorry, everyone. I just don't have any answers right now."

From over by the counter, the proprietor of the store coughed and said, "Hey kids, I couldn't help overhearing your little problem. You say you need an expert to help you learn how to play paintball in a week? I think I might be able to help you."

Arnold looked over at him and said, "Huh? You mean you can teach us how to play paintball?"

The man laughed and said, "Oh no, I'm not very good at the sport, but it just so happens that I do know a fellow who is. Although, I should warn you, the guy is a little bit...oh what's the word...a nut."

Gerald looked at him and said, "Man, right now were are totally desperate. Who is he and where can we find him?"

"I have his card right here," the man said, going through a set of cards in a box on his desk. Then he handed a small, white one out to Arnold, "Here you go, kid. Good luck, you'll need it."

"Thanks," Arnold said, smiling a little, seeing a small glimmer of hope.

He took the card and read the words written in black letters:

Death Star Hobby Shop
Darth C. Roden: Dark Lord Of The Paintballs
Owner And Proprietor
42 Pryor Street

To Be Continued . . .

Uh oh! Ever notice that whenever someone says the words "nothing can go wrong" that's almost always the prelude to disaster? Hey, Arnold, have you ever heard of "Murphy's Law"? I hope the "football-head" knows what he's doing, don't you? Be sure to check out the next chapter and find out. In the next chapter, Arnold and the gang get very some desperately needed help. Read and Review! -Carl