Jean-Louis Duval – “The Art of Strategy”

Location: A lavish Atlantic City penthouse overlooking the Boardwalk. The camera pans across a polished marble floor, designer furniture, and a golden-framed portrait of Jean-Louis Duval himself hung proudly on the wall. A table set with expensive wine and hors d’oeuvres rests nearby. Jean-Louis Duval, dressed immaculately in a tailored navy-blue suit, stands with the IPWA International Heavyweight Championship slung arrogantly over his shoulder. Behind him, through floor-to-ceiling windows, the neon-lit skyline of Atlantic City glows in the night.

Jean-Louis Duval:

“Ah, Atlantic City… such a charming little city of vice, of broken dreams and slot machines. And now—how lucky—you get to play host to greatness itself. Me. Jean-Louis Duval. The reigning IPWA International Heavyweight Champion, the most elegant and elite wrestler in the entire world, now gracing this brutish land of Project Violence with my presence.”

He lets out a smug chuckle, slowly brushing invisible lint from his lapel.

“Last night, you all saw my Legion—HyperNova and Royce Lacroix—take to the ring against your precious Masafumi Satake. And yes, I’ve heard the whispers. ‘They lost.’ ‘They failed.’ But please… if you think victory was the point, then you clearly do not understand the art of strategy.”

Duval pauses, pacing slowly in front of the grand window.

“You see, I didn’t send my Legion to win. I sent them to soften. To bruise. To twist that warrior’s pride until it cracks like cheap glass. Because Masafumi Satake… mon ami… you may have fought valiantly last night, but I can already see it in your eyes—fatigue. Doubt. You’ve carried that Project Violence Heavyweight Championship with honor. Admirable. But noble men, they don’t win wars. Strategists do.”

He lifts the IPWA title from his shoulder and holds it toward the camera with both hands, admiring his reflection in the gold.

“You remember this, don’t you, Satake? This is what I took from you. In front of the world, I did what no one else could. I broke you. I out-thought you. I exposed the cracks in your armor and took the IPWA crown for myself. And now, as promised, I come to Project Violence not to climb the ladder like everyone else… but to topple it. With one match. One moment. And when the bell rings and you are down on your knees, staring up at the lights again… you will remember what it feels like to lose everything to Jean-Louis Duval.”

Duval smirks, draping the IPWA title back over his shoulder and walking to the table. He pours himself a glass of Bordeaux, taking a slow sip before returning to face the camera.

“Project Violence, you may not like me. You may boo, hiss, cry out for your beloved Satake. But it does not matter. Your disdain only fuels my legacy. And make no mistake—this will be the era of Duval. I will add the PV Heavyweight Championship to my growing collection, and I will elevate it beyond the back alley brawls and bloodied fists that define this promotion. No more violence without vision. No more champions without class.”

“Satake… you are a warrior. But I am an Emperor.”

He raises his glass toward the camera with a sly smile.

“And soon, the kingdom shall be mine.”

Fade to black, with Duval’s chilling final words echoing over a golden IPWA logo.

End Scene