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****
Marvin glanced at her. "I'm fine."
"Good." It came out quieter than she intended.
Marvin held her gaze for another moment before turning back..
That small exchange didn't escape Matt.
Neither did the way Charlize moved closer to Marvin without seeming to realize she'd done it.
Tom saw it too. His expression tightened.
Nicole pulled her arm free. "You're hurting me."
Tom released her. She didn't wait. She started toward Marvin.
Tom caught himself before following.
Nicole reached Charlize first. "Are you all right?"
Charlize nodded. "I'm fine."
"You're shaking."
"I know." Nicole looked at Marvin, then at Ben on the floor.
"What happened?"
Charlize hesitated. "He wouldn't leave me alone." Her voice dropped. "He wouldn't listen."
Nicole's expression changed. She didn't ask anything else. Across the room, Ben rolled onto his side and sucked in a breath. He pushed himself up.
His face had gone dark with humiliation. "Fuck..."
He staggered to his feet, shaking off the daze like a wounded, enraged bear swiping blindly at a swarm of bees. He wiped his mouth. Then looked around. People were staring at him. Some were frightened. Some were trying not to smile. And cameras were clicking non stop.
"Put those fucking cameras down!"
Nobody did. Flashbulbs went off.
Ben looked back at Marvin. "You think that's funny?"
Marvin's expression barely changed. "No."
"Then stop looking at me like that."
"I'm not looking at you."
That earned a few laughs from the crowd.
Ben heard them. His face tightened.
Matt stepped forward. "Ben, enough."
"Stay the fuck out of it, Matt."
"I'm trying to keep you from making this worse."
"You're my friend. Act like it."
Matt stared at him. "I am."
Ben shook his head and charged again.
Someone near the back of the room muttered, "He's going again."
Harvey heard it. "Jesus Christ." He pushed through the crowd. "Ben. You're done."
Ben didn't even look at him.
Ben ignored him. His eyes remained fixed on Marvin. "You just made a fucking mistake."
Abandoning all technique, he charged at Marvin in a fit of pure rage, relying on nothing but brute force.
"Ben!" Matt screamed.
There was no thought behind it this time. No attempt to square up or make himself look tough. He was angry, humiliated and drunk, and he wanted to hit Marvin.
Marvin waited.
Charlize's fingers tightened around Nicole's arm. "Marvin—"
He moved.
As Ben closed the distance, Marvin smoothly pivoted on his left foot. Torquing his hips to generate rotational force, he whipped his right leg around in a flawless, impossibly fast spinning hook kick.
The heel of Marvin's expensive leather shoe connected squarely with the side of Ben's jaw. The impact sounded like a baseball bat striking a bag.
Ben's head snapped to the side. His legs turned to jelly, his eyes rolling back into his head before he even hit the ground. He flew backward, sprawling onto the floor for the third time, completely unconscious, out cold before the crowd could even scream.
"Bruce Lee!"
The ecstatic exclamation came from the front of the crowd. Quentin Tarantino, standing just a few feet away from a pale Harvey, was practically jumping up and down with unabashed, geeky admiration. A lifelong, obsessive fan of Hong Kong cinema and martial arts choreography, Tarantino instantly recognized Marvin's move. It was a classic, high-level technique he had seen executed a thousand times on grainy VHS tapes—but never with such stunning, real-world precision by a kid in a tailored suit.
"That was perfect! Absolute perfection!" Quentin muttered to himself, his eccentric, creative mind buzzing with a thousand volts of inspiration. Perhaps Marvin wasn't just a drama and horror prodigy. Perhaps he needed a heavy, stylized cameo in Quentin's next bloody action project. A homage to the golden age of martial arts cinema.
Marvin, meanwhile, stood casually over the unconscious body of the Hollywood leading man. He smoothly reached up, adjusting the cuffs of his pristine white shirt, unbothered by the violence.
He had seized the opportunity perfectly. With the Hollywood landscape rapidly shifting—increasingly dominated by massive action blockbusters, high-wire martial arts spectacles like The Matrix, and the looming dawn of the superhero franchise—Marvin knew he needed to establish himself as a physical threat, not just a fragile child prodigy. Tonight, in front of the biggest producers and the hungriest cameras in the world, he had proved he was a predator in every sense of the word. He looked impossibly handsome, dangerous, and untouchable.
Ben groaned softly on the floor, a pool of drool forming near his mouth, far too battered and concussed to rise. His impulsive outburst had just cost him his dignity, his face, and potentially millions in future endorsements.
Watching from the safe distance of the crowd, Matt Damon let out a long exhausted sigh. He rubbed his temples, already feeling the migraine setting in.
'This,' Matt thought, watching the flashbulbs illuminate his unconscious friend, 'is going to be an apocalyptic PR nightmare.'
Matt stared at him. "Ben?"
No response.
Matt rushed over and dropped beside him. "Ben."
He touched his shoulder. "Come on."
Ben didn't move.
"Jesus." Matt looked up. "Somebody get a doctor."
The room finally came alive.
People began talking over each other. Someone shouted for Harvey's security. A woman backed into a table and nearly knocked over another bottle.
Harvey stood frozen for half a second before barking at the nearest staff member.
"Get the fucking medic. Now."
Then he turned toward Marvin. "What the hell are you doing?"
Marvin didn't answer. His eyes were on Charlize. She was already moving toward him.
"You're okay?"
She nodded, though her breathing was still uneven. "I'm fine."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
She looked at his face, then reached up and touched his cheek.
"You're bleeding." Marvin glanced at the small cut near his lip.
"It's nothing." Charlize frowned. "It doesn't look like nothing."
She wiped the blood away with her thumb.
For a moment, the room around them seemed to disappear.
Marvin caught her wrist gently. "I'm fine."
Charlize held his eyes. "I know."
She didn't pull away. Nicole watched them from a few feet away. There was something different in Charlize now. Before, she'd been frightened. Now she looked angry. And strangely calm whenever Marvin was beside her.
Nicole stepped closer. "Charlize."
Charlize looked over. "I'm okay."
Nicole nodded. "Good."
A few feet away, Quentin was still lost in his world. "Holy shit."
Nobody answered him.
Quentin shook his head. "That kid just kicked Ben in the fucking face."
Harvey glared at him. "Quentin."
"What?"
"Not now."
"I'm just saying."
"You're always just saying."
Quentin looked at Marvin again.
There was a fascinated grin fighting its way onto his face. "That was a hell of a kick."
Marvin gave him a brief look.
Quentin raised both hands. "Okay. I'm shutting up."
He didn't look particularly sorry about it.
Matt was still kneeling beside Ben. "Ben. Come on, man."
Ben finally groaned.
Matt exhaled. "Thank God."
Ben's eyes opened halfway. "Fuck…"
"Yeah." Matt looked him over. "You've had better nights."
Ben tried to push himself up.
Matt caught his shoulder. "Easy."
"I can get up."
"Not yet."
"Get off me."
"Ben."
"I said get the fuck off me."
Matt let go.
Ben rolled onto his side and planted a hand against the floor. His arm shook as he pushed himself upright.
"Jesus," Matt muttered.
Ben sat there for a second, breathing through the pain.
The medic moved toward him. "Mr. Affleck, you should stay down."
"I'm fine."
"You took a pretty hard—"
"I'm fine." He shoved the man's hand away and forced himself onto his feet. His legs wobbled.
Matt immediately reached for him. "Whoa."
"I've got it."
"You clearly don't." Ben straightened himself, one hand pressed against his ribs.
His face was pale, his lip split, blood still drying beneath his nose.
Then he looked up. Straight at Marvin. The anger came back all at once.
Matt saw it happen. "Ben."
Ben took a step. "Don't."
Another. Matt moved in front of him. "Come on, man."
"Move."
"No."
"Matt."
"I'm not letting you do this again."
Ben shoved him aside.
Matt stumbled back a step. "Jesus, Ben."
Ben kept walking.
Marvin hadn't moved.
Across the room, Tom stood beside Harvey, watching the scene with his arms folded.
Nicole noticed him looking.
She walked over. "What?"
Tom glanced at her. "Nothing."
"You've been staring at him all night."
Tom gave a small shrug. "He's interesting."
Nicole looked toward Marvin. "He's more than that."
Tom's eyes moved to her. There was a beat.
"You seem pretty sure."
Nicole didn't answer. Her gaze went back to Marvin. Charlize was still beside him. Her hand was now resting against his arm.
Tom noticed. "So that's what this is."
Nicole's expression hardened. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Sure."
"Tom."
He smiled faintly. "Relax."
Nicole didn't.
Across the room, Harvey finally walked over to Marvin.
His voice dropped.
"You've made a hell of a mess."
Marvin looked at the unconscious man being examined by the medic.
"He started it."
Harvey rubbed his forehead.
"I know."
That was the irritating part.
He looked toward Charlize.
Then back at Marvin.
"But you didn't have to put him through the floor."
"He came at me."
Harvey stared at him. "You always this fucking calm?"
Marvin shrugged. "Usually."
Harvey almost laughed. Almost. Instead, he looked around the room.
Every important person in Hollywood seemed to have found a reason to remain within twenty feet of the wreckage.
Nobody in the room looked away.
Blood ran from Ben's nose, a thin line disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. He barely seemed to notice.
His eyes stayed fixed on Marvin. His fists tightened.
'No.'
Ben knew that look. He knew exactly what his body was about to do.
'Don't.'
His right foot moved. 'No, no, no.'
Ben tried to stop it. Nothing happened. His muscles kept working. His shoulders rolled forward. His hands came up.
'What the fuck is happening?'
"Ben!" Matt's voice reached him from somewhere behind.
Ben wanted to turn around. He wanted to tell Matt to grab him. Instead, his mouth opened. "Stay the fuck out of this!"
'That's not what I want to say.' His heart hammered. 'Matt, grab me.'
His body took another step toward Marvin. 'Grab me, you idiot.'
"Come here, you little bastard." Ben's stomach dropped.
'I didn't say that.' He tried to clench his teeth.
His jaw moved anyway. "Thought you were tough?"
'Jesus Christ.'
Marvin hadn't moved. That made it worse. Ben could see him clearly now. Calm. Completely calm.
'Please don't move.' The thought came with a flash of genuine fear.
'Just stay there. Don't hit me again.'
He could see the paparazzi flashbulbs exploding in his vision, permanently documenting his humiliation. Yet, his arms and legs refused to obey his frantic commands to stay down. It was as if his body had been hijacked, moving on a predetermined, self-destructive autopilot.
Behind Marvin, Charlize stood perfectly still. The initial shock of the assault had faded, replaced by something much deeper. She was watching Marvin's broad shoulders and relaxed posture with wide, admiring eyes. He hadn't just protected her; he had dismantled a towering, 6'3" Hollywood leading man with the casual grace of a lethal machine.
And she wasn't the only one. Dozens of powerful, beautiful women in the crowded room were looking at the boy in the exact same way. The Incubus aura was spiking, feeding off the sudden, violent display of dominance. Beside Charlize Nicole's reaction was slightly more subtle—she held a hand over her chest, trying to regulate her rapid breathing, a thrilled flush creeping up her neck as she watched him stand victorious.
Meanwhile, Matt Damon, watching Ben still advancing to attack Marvin again, felt a wave of sickening horror wash over him.
He couldn't stand by in the shadows any longer. This wasn't just a drunken mistake; this was career suicide unfolding in real-time. Matt rushed forward through the debris. He grabbed Ben tightly around the waist, digging his heels into the hardwood floor, and desperately hauled his much larger friend backward, dragging him away from Marvin's lethal striking range. "Ben!"
Relief hit Ben so hard it almost made him dizzy. 'Thank God.'
Ben struggled. Not because he wanted to. Because his body did. "Let me go!"
'Don't let go.'
"Get the fuck off me!"
'Hold me tighter.'
Matt tightened his arms. "Jesus, Ben! What the hell are you doing?"
'I don't know!'
Ben tried to speak. "That fucking—" His mouth stopped. His mind raced. Tell him.
"—little prick needs to learn—"
'No.'
"—some fucking respect."
'Matt, please.' His body twisted violently in Matt's grip.
Matt nearly lost him. "What is wrong with you?"
****
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