MD61: Blade vs. Scott Hammond - EurAsian title

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The scene fades into what appears to be a run down police station in a very precarious part of town. The camera fades inside where a police office with the name 'Detective Hartley' on his name badge can be seen walking alongside Scott Hammond towards the end of a hallway

How long did it take you to get him?

It wasn't easy. Three of my best men tracked him down 24 hours after Apocalypse. Why do you need to speak to him so badly?

I have some...questions.

About what, your match?

That is between me and him.

Okay. Hear no evil, speak no evil.

Look, here's 200, take it, and give me 15 minutes alone with him.

Okay, but don't do anything that'll make the room...messy, I gotta answer to my boss to you know?

No problem.

Hammond walks into a very dimly lit interrogation room, that is the size of a small closet. A small, stocky man can be seen barely on the other side of the long table that they both now sit at. Hammond smiles a little, and lights up a cigarette.

You know, I stopped smoking almost six years ago. Said I'd never put another one of these death sticks in my mouth ever again. Well, there goes that new years resolution.

The man stares, looking very worried, he is now sweating with anxiety

Do you know the stigma I carry around with me Matthew? I don't want you to answer, because it is quite obvious from your face that you already know what it is. I'm that guy who is 'stuck in the Mayhem Division'. Do you know what they say to me Matthew? "Hey Hammond, don't bother looking at the card, just go and curtain jerk with the rest of the Mayhem losers!" I have dealt with that ever since I got here. I won the Mayhem title twice,and I moved on. I was one half of the best tag team in WZCW history damn it!

He takes a long drag on his cigarette and exhales slowly

I spent so long trying to get ride of the stigma of being 'that' guy that I started losing sight of why I was here. And then Matthew, the day finally came! I won a triple threat match to become the number one contender for the EurAsian Championship, to face Blade at Apocalypse. My destiny had been written. I was ready. And what happened at Apocalypse Matthew.

He stubs out his cigarette and gets face to face with Matthew

You pinned my shoulders to the mat...

One...

Two...

Three!


Once I got my bearing back after taking that Blade Runner, all I saw was you raising the hand of Blade as the victor. Tell me Matthew, did you see anything...illegal from Blade during that match and not tell me?

Listen Mr Hammond, I'm a referee, I get paid to do the best job I can, and I solemnly swear I saw nothing illegal from Blade during your match at Apocalypse.

I had a feeling that he may have got to you first. How much is he paying you?

WHO?

BLADE DAMMIT, TELL ME! There is something not right here.

Listen Mr Hammond, Blade hasn't had any contact with me since Apocalypse, I swear, your not going to...hurt me...are you?

Of course not. I'm no brute. Does he think I'm thick. Offering me his hand at the end of the match! After everything he has done to me over the last month, and he thinks I'm just going to forget about it? That I'm going to let bygones be bygones? No way. I would never shake the hand of someone who thinks so little of me. We tore the house down at Apocalypse, and it should have been me leaving with that title.

Hammond exhales, calming himself. He sits down and relaxes his body

But that doesn't matter now. I have another shot at that two bit cheat! This coming Meltdown Matthew, I have another shot at the EurAsian title, and more importantly, another shot and making right what went wrong at Apocalypse. I will take Blade's title, then I will strip him of his dignity, just like he did to me by offering his hand, thinking that I was stupid enough to 'show' him respect.

Mr Hammond...can I...go...now?

Fine, leave me be. You have answered what I needed anyway.

Thank you so much!

Matthew, one last thing. If you are assigned my match on Meltdown I need you to do something for me. Its important...I need you to be fair. Do you understand?

Y-yes sir, I understand.

With that, Matthew scampers off out of the room. Detective Hartley walks in and sits down, staring out of the window

So what did he say?

Not much. But that doesn't matter. The time draws near.

Hartley stands up and heads to the door

Well I hope you get what your looking for.

Oh don't worry, I intend to.

The scene fades out with Hammond giving a cold hard stare at the floor with a deceiving smile on his face
 
Blade is backstage, in his locker room. The usual cigarette is not in his hand. He doesn’t need anything like that today, because he is happy. He is on his phone, the trademark smirk spread across his face as he receives the news of Scott Hammond’s little outburst yesterday towards the referee of their Apocalypse title match. Before he had received any word about it, before his phone had ever rang, he knew something like this was inevitable. Hammond has such passion, but it is unfortunate for him that it regularly crosses the line into straight out fury. Indeed, Blade had known his opponent inside and out by the time Apocalypse arrived. Or, at least, he thought he did. Yet, at Apocalypse, their match happened and for a brief moment, Blade was worried. Hammond, for some of the match, had used his passion and his resentment towards Blade and he had harnessed into a great power, becoming stronger and more focused whilst remaining brutal. It had truly caught off Blade off guard. But by the end of the match, Hammond had lost his grip on that power and his passion became fury, as it always has and it led to his downfall, as it always has.

Blade said goodbye to his source on the phone and put it down. He began pacing slowly and calmly, still deep in thought. Everywhere he’s turned in the last week, Blade has been asked the same droning question, whether it be from the few Blade fans in the world, the considerable amount of Scott Hammond fans, or the neutrals. Why on earth had he, Blade, tried to shake Hammond’s hand? Blade wasn’t even entirely sure himself. And every time he had had to ignore or shake off this question, the real reason in Blade’s had faded more and more. But his memory was clinging tightly to what left of the reason. The core and base of why he had tried to shake the hand of the man he had mentally tortured for over a month, the man who despised him. During that match, when Hammond was harnessing that power, in those seemingly eternal minutes that the thought of losing entered his mind, which was the first time those thoughts had invaded his mind in literally months, he saw something in Hammond. Something strange, but grand.

The primary difference between Blade and Hammond is on the surface and how they are viewed by the world. With Hammond, what you see if what you get. He’s a big, powerful man with some decent technique between the ropes. But he also fits the stereotypical meathead persona. For all his strength, there are times when it seems like his emotional depth is limited to anger and calmness. As if he doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together at times. Blade, on the other hand, is deceptive in his appearance. If he wanted to, his appearance could allow him to go out to the ring and be a clean-cut hero to the fans, generic and plain. He would make heartfelt speeches every week, crowd members would cheer him on. They would repeat his catchphrases and let out a big pop when he hit a signature move.. He didn’t look like a manipulative mastermind, far from it. If he tied his hair back, shaved and stopped smoking, he would very much be that generic guy. Even with his slightly unkempt hair, stubble and bad habit, he still looked ‘marketable’ for TV audience. But that, in some ways, was Blade’s greatest strength. Blade took to psychology like a duck took to water, that’s why he could play mind games like no other. And it was manipulation 101 that told him his scheming inner thoughts must never, ever be reflected on the outside. If you showed on the surface what you were thinking on the inside, you would never be trusted, you would always be watched and you could never do what Blade does.

Hammond never kept his hand close to his chest. That’s why it was nearly shocking to Blade when he saw what he saw in Hammond at Apocalypse. There was something that is currently residing inside him. Hammond’s, shall we saw, below average intelligence had stopped it from ever coming out. This power, this thing he was able to control for a very brief time in their match, it was dangerous. And Blade knew the second he realised it existed. It could also be a ticket to something incredible.

So why did Blade do what he did at the end of their match? The thing he saw in Hammond, this potential for true greatness, Hammond would never be able to take advantage of it on his own. Not for longer than he did in their match, anyway. And Hammond didn’t even realise it then. And he doesn’t realise it now. If Blade can.... Somehow... Get Hammond on his side... They could do great things, run this whole federation. But getting Hammond on his side would be easier said than done. Manipulation is one thing, but this is erasing all his negative opinions about Blade. With this realisation, Blade shrugged nonchalantly to himself. He always enjoyed a challenge.... And this time, defending the EurAsian title wasn’t going to be the biggest challenge. Of course, he loved his title, it had truly become part of him since Kingdom Come. But this thing between him and Hammond... This was bigger than that.

Suddenly the door knocked. Blade strode across the room and opened it to see Becky Serra awaiting her usual interview with Blade. Blade invited her inside and she quickly made herself at home, sitting on the couch and wasting no time jumping into the questions.

Becky: So, first thing’s first. Everyone wants to know, why did you shake Scott Hammond’s hand at the end your match at Apocalypse?

Blade shakes his head and grabs his title before sweeping out of the room, leaving Becky alone and utterly confused.
 
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