Disclaimer
(Just so I won't get sued…)
All related characters and settings found below are strictly based on the TV series Hey Arnold! created by Craig Bartlett as seen on Nickelodeon.

3: Arnold's Sacrifice

Arnold put up a good fight wriggling from the husky man Vic's hold. Vic mopped up the sweat from his own brow just trying to contain the boy.

"Quit squirmin', Pataki!"

Pataki, thought Arnold. They really think I'm Helga. Helga was supposed to be their hostage! Now I gotta pretend to be her, or her relative. The moment I spill the beans, I expose her. Be really careful.

Morrie, the gangly one, shut the school door behind them as Vic bound Arnold's wrists behind his back, his arms to his torso, and his ankles together.

Arnold groaned each time he was tied. He felt powerless. I can do this! For Helga. I've already taken her place. I just have to keep up this charade till I get to the other hostages and set them free. "You won't get away with this!"

"Oh, but we did! Didn't we, Pataki?" And the men hoisted Arnold into the backseat of their getaway vehicle.

While Morrie took his seat behind the wheel, Arnold reached for the car door lock and tried pulling it up with his teeth. From the frontal passenger seat, Vic pointed a gun at Arnold's temple.

His mind racing a mile a minute, Arnold arranged his virtually paralyzed body to sit promptly. He accomplished this with great difficulty, though.

"That's a good boy." Morrie eyed his captive from the rearview mirror. "Sit still and answer our questions. We left your mouth alone for a reason."

Arnold met the man's look with a glare at the mirror. "What are your demands?"

Vic, still with his pistol on Arnold, began. "Are you really a Pataki?"

No way! "Yes."

With his free hand Vic dug up a file folder from underneath his chair and flipped through it. "The data says the Beeper King had no son! Whaddya have to say to that?"

Whoa. You had data of Helga's family?

"'Had' is right. He has one now: me."

Helga will kill me for this. Me, a Pataki? I've got to be kidding.

"What's your name?" snapped Morrie.

"Arnold."

"Arnold what?"

Keep the details vague. Arnold's tongue was burning as he gulped. "Arnold… Pataki."

"That left a rotten aftertaste!" Helga's tongue was burning as she spoke to Phoebe.

"Why Helga, there's nothing wrong with subtly proposing that we rescue Arnold…"

Gerald joined them. "Man, two kidnappings in one day! And the real one had to involve Arnold!"

"I wonder what they want from him," said Sid. "He's not that rich or popular. Maybe they want his room, or his advice…"

"If they want his advice, they should've just here approached him and asked!" Said Stinky.

"And they did, in the most inhuman way!" yelled Helga. "Aren't we all just ignorant, wretched buffoons? Football Head was just with us minutes ago and now he's gone!"

"Maybe another classmate of ours kidnapped him." Said Eugene.

"Maybe Curly kidnapped him, just like he did to Rhonda!" said Harold.

They all feasted their eyes on their bespectacled classmate.

"I did NOT 'kidnap' her! I already told all ya blockheads before, kidnapping's too messy! I just took her out for a li'l spin!"

They all planted their hands on their hips.

"And don't you think even think about me taking Arnold as hostage! I had nothing to do with it! He was looking at the door, which by the way, you guys broke down just now! He might have run off to do something about it like he always does!"

They all murmured their agreement.

"Could be, Four Eyes," said Helga gently yet falsely. "Except I was talkin' to him and he didn't answer back!"

They all gasped. Arnold would never diss anyone. Not even Helga.

"If I may have something to say about it, I believe it was him who led the search for me," Rhonda cut in. "And now that he's gone missing, looking for him would be, as he always says, 'the right thing to do'."

Helga pumped her fist into the air. "FIND FOOTBALL HEAD!"

As her classmates rushed past the open (door-less) doorway, the girl with the carnation-pink bow bent down and ogled at three golden threads on the floor. With great care she picked them up and held them at eye level.

"Arnold's hair!"

The others stopped in their tracks and looked at the strands between Helga's pointer and thumb.

"How do you know they're Arnold's?" Asked Rhonda from her chair (as she was still tied). "They could be Nadine's, or Robert's. Or even yours… if your hair falls off all the time."

Helga glowered at Rhonda. "'Cause they—"

It was a good thing that she was able to stop herself from divulging her deadly secret. She could tell that they were his from their distinct cornflower hue and fineness. She was certain—she was an avid collector of them for her Arnold Shrines. On the other hand, just to make sure…

The blond girl disgustedly sniffed the locks twice. "'Cause they smell of Football Head's yucky shampoo, and 'cause I say so! Got that, Princess?"

Helga had delivered yet another of her smooth, snappy comebacks. Rhonda sighed. The others shrugged and concurred, all convinced.

"I found 'em here…" Helga pointed to the space to the left of the open doorway. "…So Arnuldo must've gone that way!"

The others started running towards the direction she pointed. Harold and Stinky, however, were going the other way.

Helga folded her arms across her chest and pointed again. "I meant that way…"

The two boys whirled and tiptoed their way around her. "W-we knew that. Didn't we, Harold?"

"O-of course we did! Whaddya take us for, sissy idiots?"

"Whaddya take us for, sissy idiots? Full name!"

"Arnold G. Pataki." I'd rather have my mouth gagged than say this.

"Your G.! We need it for the data!"

"Geraldine—" Arnold's two captors raised their brows. "—Gerald!"

"Hmm…" Vic glanced at his papers. "Arnold Gerald Pataki, eh?"

A bead of sweat trickled down Arnold's forehead. Buy it. PLEASE buy it.

The gunned Vic took an empty sugar sack and held it above Arnold's head. "Get in the bag, blondie."

"No!"

With one hand at the wheel, Morrie brought out a knife and pinned its razor-sharp edge through the sack. "Do it."

Vic dumped the sack on Arnold, shrouding him entirely. "Think of it this way, kid. With that on, the coppers and the others can't tell who you are."

Play innocent. Play dumb. "'The others'?"

"Did we give ya the right to ask questions?" Howled Morrie. "You're not the first one we got, y' know that."

"Yeah, yer our thirteenth catch," added Vic with a smirk. "And if all goes well and yer king father kicks it in and trades his kingdom for ya, you'll be our luckiest catch yet."

"Kingdom"? Arnold's eyes widened. Oh, now I understand! They were after Helga to ask for Big Bob's Beeper Emporium as ransom! Well, since they got the wrong girl—guy!—they'll never get it.

And I don't believe in this, but I'll make sure their thirteenth catch is their unluckiest… and their last.

"That's the whole story, Mr. Simmons." Concluded Phoebe, looking down at her shoes. "Rhonda, the janitor's closet door, and Arnold."

The fourth grade teacher was not his usual smiling self upon hearing the news. "I understand, Phoebe. Thank you for sharing with me this… this tragedy that chanced upon us. And, as much as the class deems it unnecessary, I better go contact Arnold's parents."

"Grandparents."

"Oh. Right."

"Kidnapped! Ha-ha! Kidnapped, you say!" Guffawed Arnold's grandfather through the receiver.

Mr. Simmons gripped the dangling telephone cord. "I'm afraid I'm serious, sir. The students reported him missing this lunchtime."

"But he's a martial arts expert!" Grandpa Phil pointed out. "Taught him myself. He earned a black belt in a week!"

Mr. Simmons felt incredulous. "For some reason, Arnold was somehow unable to defend himself from the kidnappers. They have already made victims out of a dozen or so other children, and so perhaps Arnold—"

"Didn't want to defend himself from the 'nappers!" cried Phil. "Y' see mister, uh…"

"Simmons."

"Cinnamons! Short Man has his tendencies, y' know. Tries to help people out all the time, even at his expense. He probably let himself get abducted to save the others. Got it from his father. The poor fool."

"Yes, mister… Arnold's grandpa, sir." The schoolteacher was at a loss for words. "I'm sure this terrifying news must have gotten to you…"

The old man clapped a hand over his growling stomach. "Oh yes, it sure has. Sorry, gotta go! Gotta answer another call!"

He hung up.

Mr. Simmons freed the line as well. "I didn't hear another call trying to get in…"

Back in the Sunset Arms Boardinghouse, Philip scuttled off to his "office", the W.C., and locked the door behind him. "Never ignore the call of nature!"

End of 3: Arnold's Sacrifice

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Three independent crime-busting groups are born, each with a stratagem of its own in chapter 4: The Arnold Rescue Teams.