Zenith of Desire: The Hollywood Incubus

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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?”

Peter snorted into his tea.

Marvin continued. ”Gordon, you’ve known me long enough.” He raised an eyebrow. ”Have you ever seen me seriously try to learn a physical skill and not pick it up unusually quickly?”

Gordon opened his mouth. Then closed it again. After a few seconds he sighed. ”...No.”

”Exactly.”

Peter, meanwhile, had stopped listening halfway through. Freshly showered and drowning in one of Old John’s oversized work shirts, he wandered back and forth across the kitchen.

He suddenly slapped his forehead. ”Oh, damn.”

Richard looked up. ”What now?”

Peter groaned. ”I threw my Polaroid at the leopard.”

Richard blinked. ”You’ve already mentioned that.”

”But think about it!” Peter threw both hands into the air. ”The horse coming over the ridge. The bow. The shirt blowing in the wind. The leap.”

He shook his head miserably. ”That would’ve been the greatest production still of my career.”

Richard rolled his eyes. ”I can’t believe that’s what you’re mourning.”

Peter ignored him and turned to Marvin. ”Can I ask you something?”

”Of course.”

”How old are you?”

”I turn fourteen soon.” Marvin replied smoothly. ”Why? What is the problem?” Marvin had his suspicions about the line of questioning.

Peter nodded slowly. ”Fourteen...”

He immediately drifted back into thought.

”Hmm...”

Richard recognized that look. ”Oh no.”

Peter was already muttering to himself.

”Still growing... Height isn’t a problem. By the time cameras roll... We can cheat perspective if we have to... Besides, we don’t even know when the studio will officially greenlight the production... It doesn’t matter if he’s a bit shorter than the adult cast right now. We can always use forced perspective, or put hidden boosters in his boots...”

Richard sighed loudly. ”Peter.”

No response. ”Peter.”

Still nothing.

Marvin smiled, deciding to rescue Richard. ”Before this turns into a casting session...”

Peter blinked and looked up.

”...Could someone explain what’s happening with the leopards?”

He gestured toward the covered carcasses outside. ”I hunted them. So why can’t I simply dispose of them? What does my hunt have to do with the Auckland Zoo?”

Richard answered this time. ”Because legally they aren’t yours. They escaped from Auckland Zoo during yesterday’s fire.”

He took another sip of tea. ”As strange as it sounds, they’re still municipal property.”

Peter nodded. ”So the city has to document everything. There’ll probably be an investigation.”

Richard shrugged. ”You’ll need permission before anyone moves or disposes of the carcasses. Welcome,” he said dryly, ”to government paperwork.”

Gordon looked from Peter to Richard, then back to Marvin, completely bewildered. ”Hang on... the zoo?” he said. ”How the hell are there African leopards running around New Zealand?”

He rubbed a hand over his face and shook his head. ”You know what, never mind. That’s a problem for somebody else.”

His eyes drifted toward the two carcasses.

”Look... only the four of us know Marvin killed those leopards. If none of us says anything, who’s ever going to know?” He looked at Marvin. ”You planning to skin them? Turn the hides into rugs or something?”

Marvin answered without the slightest hesitation. ”No.” A brief pause. ”I was planning to eat them.”

The kitchen fell silent.

”...Right,” Gordon finally muttered. That wasn’t even close to the answer he’d expected.

Sometimes Marvin genuinely frightened him.

Peter suddenly stepped forward. ”Actually...” he said, scratching the back of his neck, ”I was hoping we wouldn’t keep it quiet.”

Richard groaned before Peter even finished. ”Oh, no...”

Peter ignored him and looked at Marvin. ”Would you mind coming back to the clearing this afternoon? I’d love to take some proper photographs. You on that horse... with the bow...” He shook his head in amazement. ”It was unbelievable. Those pictures would be incredible.”

Richard threw both hands into the air. ”Peter! If you do that, every newspaper in the country will be crawling all over this place.”

He pointed toward the window. ”We’ll have wildlife officials, reporters, politicians... everyone.”

He sighed. ”We’ve escaped being leopard food. Let’s not volunteer for government paperwork.”

Peter winced but couldn’t let it go. ”I know, I know...” He rubbed his palms together, almost painfully conflicted. ”But it’s such a waste.”

He looked at Marvin again, eyes shining with creative obsession. ”No one’s ever going to believe what I saw.”

Then, unable to help himself— ”He looks like an elf!”

Richard closed his eyes. ”There it is... I knew you were going to say it.”

Peter pointed dramatically at Marvin. ”Look at him! Put long blond hair and pointed ears on him and he’s walked straight out of Tolkien!”

Marvin resisted the urge to sigh.

Elf?

Marvin rolled his eyes secretly. ’What are elves?’ he thought cynically. ’I am an Incubus who has seduced and fucked many dark elf ladies in the underworld.’

I’ve spent enough lifetimes around actual dark elves to know they’re nothing like what humans imagine.

Still...

Peter Jackson.

The Peter Jackson.

That made this conversation considerably more interesting.

Marvin smiled. ”I’m actually curious now.”

He folded his arms. ”You’ve mentioned this project several times.”

He looked at Peter. ”Why don’t you tell me about it?”

Peter brightened instantly. ”You’ve read Tolkien, haven’t you?”

His excitement returned full force.

”The Lord of the Rings?”

He leaned forward eagerly. ”Marvin, you are a fantastic author yourself! I am sure you have read Sir J.R.R. Tolkien’s novels? *The Lord of the Rings*?”

”Please tell me you’ve read it.”

....

...

..

.

The conversation stretched late into the evening. They discussed the lore of Middle-earth, the studio politics of Harvey Weinstein, and Peter’s vision for a sprawling, simultaneous three-film shoot that no studio in Hollywood wanted to finance.

In the end, Marvin agreed to let Peter take the publicity photos in the forest the next morning. More importantly, he agreed that if the movie was ever officially approved by the studio, he would seriously consider playing the Elf Prince, Legolas.

The following morning, two government vehicles rolled through the estate gates.

By the time they stopped outside the main house, six officials had stepped out—three from Auckland Zoo and three from the Auckland City Emergency Committee.

They had barely finished hearing Peter and Richard’s account before the meeting descended into disbelief.

”You’re serious?” the committee chairman asked, staring at the two filmmakers as though they’d lost their minds.

He pointed incredulously toward the estate.

”You’re asking us to believe that two fully grown African leopards chased you up a tree...”

His finger shifted toward Marvin. ”...and that he killed both of them with a bow?”

The official let out a disbelieving laugh. ”Come on.”

Peter folded his arms. ”We’re not making it up.”

Richard nodded. ”Every word of it’s true.”

Peter looked the chairman straight in the eye. ”If Marvin hadn’t shown up, Richard and I would’ve been dead.”

The chairman hesitated.

He knew exactly who Peter Jackson and Richard Taylor were.

Neither man had a reputation for inventing stories. Even so... His eyes drifted back to Marvin.

The teenager was standing quietly near the stables, dressed in jeans and a plain white shirt, looking more like someone’s son than someone who hunted dangerous animals.

The story simply refused to fit the image.

Marvin noticed the skepticism.

Without saying a word, he lifted two fingers to his lips.

A sharp whistle echoed across the estate.

Every head turned.

A few seconds later, the stable doors burst open.

The white Arabian exploded into the courtyard at a full gallop. No saddle. No bridle.

Nothing but raw speed. The officials instinctively stepped backward.

”What the—”

”What’s it doing?”

”Is someone controlling it?”

The stallion thundered across the lawn, closing the distance in seconds.

Marvin didn’t answer. He broke into a sprint straight toward the galloping Arabian.

Neither he nor the horse slowed.

At the last instant, Marvin sprang upward, twisting effortlessly through the air before landing lightly on the horse’s bare back without breaking its stride.

”Good Lord...” one of the younger committeemen breathed. ”That’s incredible riding.”

As the stallion thundered past the paddock, Marvin reached out and snatched his compound bow from the top of a wooden fence post without missing a beat.

”Gordon!” he called over his shoulder. ”Let them go!”

Bang!

A hidden clay launcher behind the stables sprang to life.

Seven bright orange clay targets burst into the sky at once, fanning out in different directions.

Marvin never hesitated.

The Arabian kept charging across the field while his hands became a blur—draw, nock, release.

Twang! Twang! Twang!

One clay after another exploded into bright orange fragments.

Then another.

And another.

Within seconds, all seven had vanished into drifting clouds of dust. Not a single target remained intact.

Only then did Marvin draw gently on the reins.

The Arabian slowed down and started walking slowly in front of the stunned city officials.

Marvin rested the bow across his thigh, a faint smile tugging at his lips. ”Well, gentlemen,” he said, ”Do you believe me now?”

He glanced toward the two dead leopards lying in the grass. ”Or do you still think killing those two was impossible?”

He was showing off. It was a deliberate, calculated display of dominance.

As a nearly fully-fried Incubus soul, Marvin’s existence—his mana pool, his soul’s recovery, his physical perfection, and even his aura—was sustained by feeding on the emotions and desires of mortals. Awe, lust, fear, admiration, anger, jealousy—every intense emotion directed towards him nourished him and expanded his mana pool. It was in his demonic nature to crave attention.

He believed himself superior to the humans standing before him and never missed an opportunity to remind them of the gulf between them. Cultivating more devoted admirers meant a greater source of emotional energy. It was beneficial to cultivate a few more devoted fans to feed him their raw emotions.

Even though he already commanded the attention of millions around the world, he wanted billions upon billions more. He hungered for that global adoration, hoping it would one day restore the absolute freedom and overwhelming power he had possessed in his previous world.

In a sense, Marvin was an unapologetic attention seeker. He knew it, embraced it, and wore it as another mark of his superiority.

Peter Jackson grinned like an excited kid, completely oblivious to the stunned silence around him. ”The clay targets were my idea,” he said proudly, pointing at Marvin. ”See? I told you. He’s my Legolas.”

The emergency committee official barely heard him.

His eyes stayed fixed on Marvin.

The teenager guided the white Arabian back across the lawn at an easy trot, the compound bow resting across his lap. Faint orange dust from the shattered clay targets still drifted through the afternoon air.

The official swallowed.

”So... it really was you?” he asked, still sounding unconvinced. ”You killed both leopards?”

Marvin brought the stallion to a smooth stop in front of the group. He didn’t smile. He didn’t boast.

He simply looked down at the official with quiet confidence, Incubus aura radiating a calm authority. ”Yes,” Marvin said evenly. ”I did.”

There wasn’t a trace of arrogance in his voice.

Just certainty.

The official stared at him for another long moment, then slowly let out the breath he’d been holding.

”...Well,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. ”That settles it.”

Hearing the resonant depth of the boy’s voice relieved the official of his remaining doubts. A normal teenager would have bragged; Marvin simply stated a fact.

He turned toward the rest of the committee.

”Let’s finish the paperwork.”

The remaining officials exchanged uneasy glances before getting to work. Whatever doubts they’d arrived with had vanished the moment they’d watched Marvin split clay targets from horseback.

The handover of the leopard carcasses proceeded without any further argument.

The Emergency Committee authorized the release of the municipal bounty for neutralizing a public threat, and the Auckland Zoo issued financial compensation for the danger posed by their negligence.

Marvin accepted the checks smoothly, but when the zoo administrators attempted to load the two leopard carcasses into their transit truck, Gordon stepped in. The request to retain the pelts and the meat could not be bought with municipal money. Marvin had killed them; he was keeping them.

Marvin had no interest in the financial bonus from the city—he wanted the meat of the apex predators more than he wanted the currency.

Peter Jackson and Richard Taylor also received a substantial amount of hush-money from the zoo to prevent a public lawsuit regarding the park’s evacuation protocols.

While the officials processed the paperwork on the estate, a secondary group of armed tactical professionals tracked and captured the six-meter crocodile hiding in the mud banks of the Waikato River.

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