Pit-Trap: I do not own these characters, TF2, etc.

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"I think I'm losing my touch."

"…"

"No, seriously. The other day, I only managed to kill ten of them."

"…"

"I know that's more than half, but still!"

"…"

"I couldn't even catch a Scout!" There was a sob. "I'm losing my touch!"

"…"

"You don't even care, do you?"

The jack-o'-lantern gave no reply.

"I thought so," the Horseless Headless Horsemann sighed. Without a second thought, he brought his giant axe down upon it, splitting it right in half. "I'd feel so much better if that were a head instead of a pumpkin," he said glumly, looking at slimy bits of pumpkin stuck to his axe.

The Horseless Headless Horsemann couldn't stand it. Nearly every time the REDs and BLUs fought here at the manor, he always managed to kill a number of them without a hitch. It was quite fun. Watching them run, screaming in terror, as they tried to outrun him… Oh, it made him giddy just thinking about it! But lately, he noticed something. After killing them day after day, RED or BLU, the mercenaries he enjoyed killing so much seemed to have picked up on something. They seemed to have realized it was possible to escape him. Tricky to do so, but possible. And day after day, they were getting harder and harder for the Horseless Headless Horsemann to kill.

So what if he wasn't very good at jumping, or used no gun to kill with? His speed, size, strength, and endurance was usually enough to kill any one of those mercenaries. Usually. Oh, he was going to have to get back at them. Somehow, some way. Killing them wouldn't be satisfying enough. He knew about the Respawn machine. Hell, he actually liked it because it meant he could kill the same person over and over again, but now… Now, he was going to do something else to those mercenaries. Something else…

A wicked grin suddenly split the Horseless Headless Horsemann's face. "I've got it!" he sang to himself happily. "Off to Teufort I go!"

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"Doc, ya got any meds I could take for a headache?"

The BLU Medic paused his unpacking to turn towards the door. The BLU Sniper stood in the doorway of the infirmary, a deep scowl on his face. "A headache? Ve just got here. How did you get a headache so fast?"

"You try drivin' with a drunk Demoman and screamin' Soldier all the bloody way from Mann Manor to Teufort!" The Sniper spat as he walked over to the doctor.

"Ah," Medic gave a nod. "Understandable." He walked over to some cabinets and pulled out a bottle. "Here, take zwei of zhese and your headache should disappear in no time." He handed two pills to the Sniper.

"Thanks, doc," With a wave, the Sniper headed for the door.

"Oh, vait, Sniper!" Medic called, causing the Sniper to stop in his tracks. "I vill be doing examinations after dinner tonight. Just varning you."

"Feels like ya just checked us," Sniper grumbled, shaking his head. "But whatever ya want, doc." And with that, the Sniper slipped out of the infirmary.

The Medic then continued unloading the box he had been unpacking before the Sniper came in. Shrugging, the Medic decided to unceremoniously dump it all out. Rolls of gauze tumbled out onto the counter. He decided to just cram them all into the nearest cabinet. He then threw the empty box into an increasing pile of boxes. He'd deal with them later. He had better things to do. Medic instead headed out the infirmary in search of his teammates. He didn't need to go far to find them. He was barely out the door when he found one, in fact.

A blue blur suddenly sped past him, shouting, "Too slow, fatty!"

The Medic merely sighed. The Scout.

Seconds later, the BLU Heavy was running (if you could even call it that) after the Scout, angrily yelling, "If tiny Scout does not give back sandvich very soon, he will be in much pain very soon!"

Laughter just greeted his words.

Medic rolled his eyes. "Scout," he called down the hallway. "Give Heavy back his sandvich now, or I vill do your check-up first!"

"What?" Came the response. "Again?! But ya jus-" the Scout's complaint was interrupted by the sound of shattering glass. Then his ever-so manly shrieked.

There was a pause. Medic briefly wondered if the Heavy had eaten the Scout in the place of his sandwich.

From down the hall, there came a disgusted groan. "Dude, that's gross!" Scout wailed. "Hey, doc, Heavy's eatin' the sandwich off the ground! Is he gonna get tons-a diseases now?"

"What?" The Heavy rumbled. "It is… How you say these days…? Eight second rule, da?"

"Dude, that's sick."

"I vill be doing zhe examinations after dinner. Don't try and skip them, eizer of you! And Scout, clean up zat broken plate!" the Medic called down the hall before turning in the opposite direction.

"What?!"

Ignoring him, Medic continued down the hall. He eventually found his way into the kitchen, where the Pyro was sorting through the fridge. "Pyro," Medic said as he passed. "I vant examinations on everyone before zhe battle tomorrow. After dinner, don't skip it."

"Amrrph?" The Pyro's shoulders sagged a bit as he turned to look at the doctor. "Mph mrrph mmm mrr mph."

"Zat vas veeks ago," Medic replied. "Anyvay, zhey are just examinations to make sure everyone is in good condition for tomorrow. Nozing to vorry about."

"Mrrrph mff mff," Pyro grumbled, turning back to the fridge.

Medic moved on, heading out of the kitchen and down yet another hall. At the end of it, there sat two doors. Medic pushed through them. "Engineer, are you here?" The Engineer's workshop. Located at the back of the BLU's base, it was almost always where you could find the BLU Engineer. It was usually very messy. Organized chaos, the Medic believed is what Engineer called it. The place was filled with metals, tools, or whatever Engineer liked to tinker with in his spare time. Granted, the infirmary could be a bit chaotic too, but…

"What can I do for ya, doc?" The BLU Engineer appeared, rounding a nearby corner.

"I just vanted to tell you I vill be doing examinations after dinner today in preparation for zhe battle tomorrow."

"Again?" Engineer frowned, but nodded. "Ya gotta do what ya gotta do, I suppose. Alright-y then, I'll make sure to stop by." He paused for a second. "Shame we have'ta go back to battle so soon. The Administrator usually gives us a day of recovery after we change locations like this."

"It cannot be helped," The Medic shrugged. "If she vants us to fight, ve fight."

"Yeah…"

"Oh, haf you seen zhe Spy? I need to tell him as well."

"Can't help ya there, doc," Engineer frowned, shaking his head. "The spook's prolly just sneakin' 'round the base or somethin'."

"Ah, I vill just check his room then. It's too hard to find him vhen you need him…" Medic grumbled as he stalked out of the Engineer's workshop.

He soon found himself wandering down the hallway filled with all their rooms. Each door had a plate labeled with a name on it. Not their real names of course, their professional names. Arms crossed, Medic made for the one labeled Spy, but paused next to the Demoman's door. Surely he wouldn't actually be… Without a second thought, Medic threw the Demoman's door open. The room's themselves weren't much to look at, even when the mercenaries managed to spruce them up a bit. There was a private bathroom in each room, a single bed, a desk, and a closet. Of course, the only thing to currently look at in the Demoman's room was the Demoman himself. The BLU was lying on his bed.

Medic stared, unblinking. "Demoman, tell me you are not drunk."

"Uhh… wha…?" The Scot lifted his head to look to see who was at his door. It was harder to do than he thought it would be, but he managed. Now only if he could tell which Medic was the real one out the three he was currently seeing.

"You are," Medic confirmed, taking note of a bottle next to his bed. "Vell, you are awake. Good enough. Examinations are after dinner. Do not miss it. I vill be sure give you somezing for your hangover as vell."

"Uhh…"

"I take it you are sober enough to understand?"

"Uhhh…huh…"

Medic sighed. "Good enough," he said, and promptly slammed the Demoman's door shut. He then continued down the hall, eventually stopping in front of the Spy's door. The Spy was… strict when it came to his privacy, and Medic was alright with that. He never once entered the man's living quarters and he doubted he (let alone anyone else) ever would. He would respect the man's wish for privacy. Except when it came to examinations. Check-ups were vital to make sure the entire team was in peak condition. Knocking on Spy's door, Medic shouted, "Spy, I vill be doing examinations after dinner in preparation for zhe battle tomorrow! No skipping, understood?"

After a small pause there came a barely audible "oui" from the other side. Satisfied, Medic turned and left. Now for the fun part: he had to inform the BLU Soldier. The man was probably in whatever unfortunate room he had decided to dub "the war room". The Medic just had to find it. And after that… Medic sighed. This was going to be a long night.

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The BLU base was quiet. After everyone had finished unpacking, a light dinner, examinations, and bit of preparation for the battle tomorrow, the base was finally quiet. Each mercenary had gone to their respected room for the night to get some much needed sleep. Soft snoring sounds filled the darkened base. It was peaceful. Across the way, the RED base mirrored the BLU base. RED mercenaries, usually awake and just as rowdy as the BLUs, were asleep as well. For now, Teufort's battlefield was empty and quiet. Well, except for the Horseless Headless Horsemann being there and all.

"As if it hasn't already taken me forever to get here," he complained to himself. "Now I can't decide which base to go to!" the Horseless Headless Horsemann stood on the bridge that connected the two bases, frantically glancing between the two bases. He could go to both, but that seemed a bit… cliché. "Oh, I know!" He leaned on his axe. "Eenie, meenie, minie, mo, catch a Heavy by the toe! If he hollers let him go, eenie, meanie, minie- BLU Team!" And with his decision made, the Horseless Headless Horsemann skipped into the BLU base.

Getting in wasn't all that hard. He just had to open a door. It was a good thing that the sound of the lock snapping wasn't too loud though. Now the Horseless Headless Horsemann just had to find where all the mercenaries were… Which wasn't too hard either. He found them all asleep, each in their respected rooms. Oh, this would be too easy. He decided to start with the Medic.

"Alright," the Horseless Headless Horsemann whispered to himself as he pulled out an old, weathered book. He flipped through the pages. "Hhmm… What to do, what to do…" He grinned when he stopped on page one-hundred-thirty-six. "Oh, now this is perfect…"

As the night went on, clouds shifted to reveal the moon. The stars twinkled at one another. The sounds of singing crickets filled the air. They were soon accompanied by the sound of the Horseless Headless Horsemann's laughter as he left of the BLU base. As he disappeared back into the night, he failed to notice a camera scanning Teufort's battlefield. Not that it would have mattered if he ever saw it. He still would have done it. And as the sun began to rise that morning, he knew that whatever the cost was it would be worth it.

"AAAAUUGGHH!"

Oh, yes. Well worth it.

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A/N: In my mind, the Horseless Headless Horsemann is a dude that just wants to have fun and enjoy life. And by "fun" I mean tormenting others.

Oh, and any tips about how to write accents better would be greatly appreciated. This is pretty much my first time trying to write them decently, so…