Zenith of Desire: The Hollywood Incubus

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They stared down at the young man on horseback, mouths hanging open in shock. The display of violence had been so skillful, precise, and efficient that their brains struggled to process what they had witnessed.

Marvin turned the horse around and approached the base of the tree at a measured walk. He wasn’t breathless. His posture was proud, commanding, and unbothered by the carnage he had just inflicted.

The magnetic gravity of his aura radiated outward, making him look less like a teenager and more like a mythic being who had descended from the heavens to reclaim his domain.

”That’s him! That’s him!” Peter Jackson shouted, practically hanging off the branch as he pointed at the rider below. ”Richard, that’s him!”

Richard nearly slipped. ”For God’s sake, Peter!” he snapped, grabbing the trunk. ”Stop yelling in my ear! Are you trying to scare me to death before the cats do?”

Marvin drew the Arabian to a smooth halt beneath the tree. Sunlight caught his face as he looked up at the two filthy, barefoot men clinging to the branches.

He glanced at the disheveled, bearded man who was currently losing his mind.

His gaze settled on Peter for a moment.

”...Is he alright?” Marvin asked calmly. ”Or did the leopards scare him a little harder than they scared you?”

Richard let out an exhausted laugh.

”Sorry. Really... sorry.” He rubbed a hand over his face. ”He’s had a rough few minutes. We both have.”

He shook his head. ”And... thank you.” His voice became earnest. ”You saved our lives. Thank you so much for saving our lives. We thought we were dead.”

Peter, meanwhile, wasn’t listening anymore.

His eyes were glued to Marvin. ”Oh, no...” he groaned, grabbing his own head. ”My Polaroid.”

He was fully immersed in the manic, obsessive mode of a director who had just found his missing puzzle piece. He couldn’t contain his excitement.

Richard frowned. ”What?”

”I threw it at the bloody leopard!” Peter looked genuinely devastated. ”I actually threw my camera at it.”

He stared at Marvin in disbelief. ”That should’ve been a photograph. You coming over the ridge... the horse... the bow... that shirt blowing in the wind... It was incredible! The way you dropped the reins, the way you shot mid-air!” He laughed helplessly. ”You looked exactly like him.”

Richard pinched the bridge of his nose. ”Peter...”

”No, listen!” Peter pointed again. ”I’m serious! You’re the Elf Prince. That’s exactly how I pictured him. I swear to God.”

Richard groaned. ”Peter, would you please thank the man before you start casting him in your movie?”

Peter blinked. That finally pulled him back to reality. ”Oh... right.”

He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. ”Sorry about that.”

He looked down at Marvin with an embarrassed smile. ”I got carried away.” he muttered, still looking a bit dazed. He rubbed his messy hair and flushed a deep red, realizing how insane he must sound.

He took a breath. ”My name’s Peter. I’m a film director.” He smiled sheepishly. ”And... thank you. I genuinely thought we were dead.”

Marvin smiled back, warm and amused rather than confused. ”Nice to meet you, Peter.”

Peter hesitated. ”I know this is going to sound completely insane...”

Richard sighed. ”Here we go. ...but you moved exactly like one of the characters in a fantasy film I’m trying to make.”

Marvin chuckled. ”What a coincidence.” His smile widened. ”I happen to be an actor.”

”You’re... an actor?” Peter asked, still trying to catch his breath. He squinted at Marvin for a long second. ”Hang on... you look familiar. I swear I’ve seen you somewhere.”

Marvin laughed softly. ”You’ll probably be more comfortable if you come down from the tree first. My neck’s starting to complain.”

”...Right. Yeah. Good point.” Peter made no move.

Richard sighed, grabbed the back of his friend’s flannel shirt, and gave him a firm tug. ”Come on. Before you insult the man who just saved our lives.”

Between bruised pride and scraped knees, the two men slid down the rough trunk, landing awkwardly on the forest floor. Neither of them bothered collecting their scattered belongings. Boots, loose change, keys, even Peter’s battered Polaroid camera remained where they’d fallen.

Peter’s entire attention stayed fixed on Marvin. He studied the boy’s face. The shoulder-length hair. The impossibly calm expression. The effortless confidence. The boy’s striking, symmetrical features, the depth in his nebula-blue eyes, and his flawless posture.

Then it hit him.

His eyes went wide. ”Oh, hell...” he breathed. He jabbed a finger toward Marvin. ”You’re Marvin Meyers! Of course you are! I knew I’d seen that face before. You’re that Hollywood prodigy! I saw your picture on the front page of the *Wellington Post* after your Oscar performance!”

Marvin smiled and offered his hand. ”Guilty. I’m Marvin Meyers. Nice to meet you.”

Peter shook it enthusiastically. ”I’m Peter Jackson.”

Before he could launch into another ramble, Richard stepped in.

”Richard Taylor,” he said, offering a hand of his own. ”I’m a film visual effects artist. And this lunatic is, unfortunately, telling the truth—he’s a film director.”

Marvin chuckled as they shook hands.

”It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

Marvin chuckled as they shook hands. ”It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” His gaze drifted toward the disturbed clearing. ”So... what exactly happened out here?”

As he casually lifted the compound bow in his left hand, the dead leopard hanging from the bowstring swung gently with the movement, as though it weighed almost nothing.

Richard’s eyes widened.

’Good Lord...’

The animal weighed well over a hundred pounds, yet Marvin held it one-handed without the slightest strain. ’How strong is this kid?’

Peter finally found his voice again. ”It’s... a very long story,” he admitted, rubbing dirt and sweat from his face. ”Would you... maybe come back to our office for a bit? I’d really like to talk.”

Marvin hesitated. The director was still looking at him with an intensity that bordered on unsettling.

Marvin felt a brief wave of unease. He looked down at the chubby, disheveled director. ’Does he like me, or is he just losing his mind from the adrenaline?’

Either he’s incredibly passionate... or the adrenaline finally cooked his brain.

”I appreciate the invitation,” Marvin said with an apologetic smile, ”but I should probably head back. My security chief is waiting near the edge of the reserve. At this point he’s probably convinced something in these woods has eaten me.”

That earned a weary laugh from Richard. ”Can’t blame him.”

Marvin glanced at the two leopard carcasses. ”One question, though. Am I allowed to keep these?”

Richard barked out a laugh. ”I wish I could say yes.”

He pointed at the animals. ”Unfortunately, they still belong to Auckland Zoo. They’re the ones that escaped during the fire evacuation.”

His expression darkened. ”If anyone owes somebody compensation today, it’s the city. After this, I’m sending somebody a bill for emotional trauma.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Richard noticed Peter was still staring at Marvin with wide, almost reverent eyes.

The man looked like he’d just seen royalty descend from the heavens, like a medieval peasant who had witnessed an apparition of royalty.

Richard sighed. He’d better fix this before Peter scared the poor kid.

”Marvin, sorry about him,” Richard said with an apologetic smile, gesturing toward his friend. ”He’s harmless. He’s been living inside a script for months, and you apparently walked straight out of it.”

Peter looked mildly offended. ”I did not—”

”You absolutely did,” Richard cut in. ”He has been obsessed, losing his mind over the casting process lately. I thought I’d drag him out to clear his head.” He glanced at the dead leopard dangling from Marvin’s bow. ”...Instead, we ended up getting chased through the bush by escaped zoo animals.”

Marvin laughed. ”I suppose that wasn’t part of the plan.”

”Not even remotely,” Richard muttered.

Marvin studied Peter more carefully. Something about him tugged at his memory.

Marvin blinked. He did a double-take, searching his memory of Hollywood’s past and future.

Then it clicked.

Peter Jackson.

Marvin kept his expression perfectly neutral.

So it really is him.

Marvin asked himself, the pieces clicking into place.

Without the beard trimmed and with his hair looking like he’d slept in a hedge for a month, he was almost unrecognizable.

’Damn, I couldn’t recognize current him!’

’No wonder I didn’t place him immediately.’

The probability was absolute.

A New Zealand director.

Completely obsessed with a script featuring elf.

There was only one Peter Jackson that could be.

Marvin’s smile grew a little warmer. ”In that case,” he said, ”why don’t you both come back to my farm?”

Richard and Peter looked at each other.

”You can get cleaned up, have something to eat, and we can figure out what to do about...” He lifted the bow slightly, making the leopard carcass sway. ”...our unexpected souvenirs.”

Richard laughed. ”A hot shower sounds incredible.”

Peter nodded immediately. ”And I’d love to talk, if you’ve got the time.”

”I’m sure we can find some.”

The three of them started back through the forest together.

Instead of riding, Marvin walked beside them, leading the white Arabian by the reins with effortless ease while the horse followed quietly at his shoulder.

The two leopard carcasses were now draped over the back of the saddle. They chatted amiably as they navigated the brush.

Near the edge of the reserve, the distant growl of an engine broke the silence. A black Land Rover came tearing down the dirt track, throwing up a cloud of dust behind it.

”Gordon,” Marvin said with a faint smile.

The SUV skidded to a stop. Before it had fully settled, Gordon was already out the door.

His hand instinctively dropped beneath his jacket, ready to draw if he had to.

Then he saw the horse.

Then the leopards.

His eyes widened.

”Marvin.” He crossed the distance in seconds. ”Are you hurt?”

His gaze swept over Marvin from head to toe, checking for blood, bites, scratches—anything. ”You alright?”

”I’m fine,” Marvin replied calmly. ”None of it’s mine.”

Only then did Gordon let out the breath he’d been holding. His eyes shifted to the two carcasses hanging from the horse. ”...I see.”

Marvin gave a small nod. ”I’ll explain everything later.”

He glanced toward Peter and Richard. ”For now, could you ring the estate?”

”Of course.”

”Ask the house manager to have two guest bathrooms ready with hot water.”

Gordon was already pulling out his mobile phone.

”And we’ll need a couple of changes of clothes.” Marvin looked at Richard, then smiled. ”One set will have to be fairly large.”

He thought for a moment. ”Old John’s work clothes should fit. I’ll ask him when we get back.”

”Got it.” Gordon began making the call immediately.

A few minutes later he looked up. ”Everything’s ready.”

Marvin turned to the two New Zealanders. ”You’ve both had enough excitement for one day.”

He nodded toward the SUV. ”Ride in comfort.”

Richard looked gratefully at the air-conditioned vehicle. ”I don’t think I’ve ever wanted a seat more in my life.”

Peter nodded in complete agreement. ”I was about to say the same thing.”

The two men climbed into the back of the SUV, covered in dirt.

Marvin remained with the Arabian, choosing to ride alongside rather than load the already-alert stallion into a trailer or leave it behind.

With Gordon leading the way, the small convoy headed back toward the estate, leaving the silent reserve—and its lingering scent of danger—behind.

The group’s speed increased as they returned to the manicured grounds of the estate.

...

The kitchen had finally gone quiet.

Peter and Richard had showered, changed into borrowed clothes, and each had a mug of hot tea warming their hands.

Gordon stood across from Marvin, still trying to process everything he’d just heard.

He looked from the two New Zealanders...

...to the two leopard carcasses visible through the kitchen window where the estate staff had covered them with heavy tarps.

Then back to Marvin.

”...You killed both of those?” he asked slowly. ”By yourself?”

Even after hearing the story twice, he still sounded unconvinced.

Marvin nodded. ”I did.”

Gordon shook his head. ”I’ve worked security for a long time.”

He let out a quiet whistle. ”I’ve met soldiers, hunters... people who’ve spent their lives around dangerous animals.”

Gordon spoke, his professional curiosity piqued. He knew Marvin was brilliant, but taking down apex predators with a bow and string required combat-level reflexes.

He looked Marvin squarely in the eye. ”Where on earth did you learn to do that?”

Marvin shrugged as though the question hardly deserved an answer. ”I’m reasonably good with a bow.”

Gordon gave him a flat look. ”Reasonably?”

Marvin smiled. ”What would you like me to say?” He folded his arms. ”That I spent ten years training with a mysterious mountain hermit? Do I really need to have a tragic backstory to be talented at it?”

****

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