[ WP ] An aging veteran gets dragged to a paintball facility by his grandkids . Another elderly man is there with his grandkids . The two quickly realize they ’ ve faced off on the battlefield before .

The wind had picked up, and the once cool breeze was now icy. Paul and Simon led their grandfather down a planked path to the *Jungle Zone*. The twin's father had called ahead and co-reserved this plot, as someone else also wanted to play in the *Jungle Zone*. Their grandfather's grip on his rifle intensified as they approached the hut. `` Are you getting cold, Grandpa?'' piped Paul. `` No, Darrel, its not the cold that's bothering me. I thought something moved inside the hut.'' muffled Grandpa. Now, there was a long running joke in the family that all boys would be nicknamed `` Darrel'', as Grandpa loved the Bob Newhart show, but Paul did n't like that nickname. `` I'm still Paul.'' he replied, as the trio marched forward, eager as ever to be saturated in the warmth of the hut. 
 
 Grandpa burst through the door and nearly lost his balance. `` God dammit! Why's there a boot here?'' Barked Grandpa. `` That's a dollar in the swear jar!'' chimed Simon. Those words of wisdom never even met Grandpa's ears, as his suspicions were confirmed: someone was in the hut. A small Korean man was hunched over attempting to tie a boy's tiny shoes. The twin's concern intensified as Grandpa started to mumble gibberish and breath heavily. `` Are you okay, Grandpa?!'' cried Paul. 
 
 `` Charlie.'' said Grandpa. `` What? What did you say? I think you should sit down, Grandpa.'' insisted Simon. `` Charlie!'' barked Grandpa, as he raised his paintball rifle to the Korean man's eye-level. The man reacted, and fell back against a stool. He cursed and squalled in his native language, as Grandpa limped closer. `` You son of a bitch. God damn filth. The moment I saw your fucking face, I knew you were the one. It's been over forty fucking years, but you killed John Forrest, and you're gon na pay for it now, gook.'' Grandpa roared. The twins were petrified, as the Korean grandchildren wailed in the corner. Terror filled the small man's eyes, staring down Grandpa's rifle. `` I... I sorry for killing your friend. I no want to.'' the Korean replied, his hands shook violently, covering his face. 
 
 Everyone was in a stage of panic. Sweat seeped from Grandpa's face as he made eye contact with the Korean soldier that had savagely killed his friend... his brother in arms. Grandpa inhaled, coughing up phloem and wheezing. `` This is... for John!'' beckoned the old man, as he squeezed the trigger. *chh-choo chh-choo* Two red splats covered the Korean man's hands, speckles of crimson paint kissing his face. Both men began to weep like infants. `` Its all over now, John. I did it... for... you'' echoed Grandpa, as he fell to the floor. His calloused hand clenched the scruffy shirt above his chest, as he ceased breathing. A game attendant stopped by, some twenty minutes late. He called the authorities, and Grandpa was pronounced dead at the scene. The twins, Paul and Simon, were picked up by their horrified father, and the Korean family was escorted back to their hotel by police.
