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****
"—some fucking respect."
'Matt, please.' His body twisted violently in Matt's grip.
Matt nearly lost him. "What is wrong with you?"
'Everything.' Ben's breathing came faster. Sweat rolled down the side of his face. He could feel every movement his body made.
That was the worst part. He wasn't unconscious. He wasn't blacked out. He was trapped behind his own eyes, watching himself fight.
Matt hauled him backward. "Enough! You've had enough."
Ben's arm jerked.
Matt caught his wrist. "Stop!"
'Yes.' Ben almost laughed from relief. 'Don't let go.'
Then his body pulled against Matt again. "Let me go!"
'Don't.'
"Let me at him!"
'Don't let me at him.'
Matt stared at him. "Are you fucking insane?"
Ben's eyes widened. 'Yes.'
But his mouth answered differently. "You think I'm scared of him?"
'I am.'
"You think I'm gonna let some kid—"
'Please shut me up.' "—walk all over me?"
'Someone hit me again. Knock me out. Anything.'
Matt's expression changed. The anger in his face was beginning to give way to genuine concern. "Ben, look at me."
Ben couldn't. His eyes remained fixed on Marvin.
Matt grabbed his face and turned him around. "Look at me."
Ben finally met his eyes.
For one second, Matt saw something strange there. Fear. Real fear.
Then Ben's expression twisted again. "Fuck off."
Matt released him. "Jesus."
He looked toward Marvin.
Then back at Ben. "You're finished."
Ben tried to shake his head. 'Yes.'
His mouth said: "I'm not finished."
Matt's face hardened. "You're going to get yourself killed."
'I know.'
Ben's body strained forward again. Matt grabbed him with both arms. "That's it."
He pulled him away from Marvin. Ben fought him all the way. His mind screamed at every step. 'Thank you.'
His mouth kept shouting. "Let me go!"
'Don't.'
"Get your fucking hands off me!"
'Hold on.'
"That bastard thinks he can—" 'Please.' "—do whatever he wants!"
'Please don't let me go.'
Matt step by step dragged him farther away from Marvin Ben's shoes scraped against the floor.
The farther they got from Marvin, the more desperate Ben became.
Not because he wanted to reach him. Because whatever had taken control of him clearly did.
"Stop it, Ben! Just stop it right now! You've clearly had way too much to drink today!" Matt yelled sternly, his voice echoing in the silent room for the reporters to hear.
It was a desperate piece of PR maneuvering. Clearly, Matt was offering a plausible, slightly sympathetic explanation for his friend's psychotic behavior to the listening press. He's just drunk. Whether anyone in the room actually believed the clumsy excuse was irrelevant; it gave their publicists a narrative to spin tomorrow morning.
Ben, however, struggled violently against Matt's grip, his arms flailing, trying to break free and lunge at Marvin again.
But inside his terrified mind, Ben was desperately, hysterically screaming: 'Yes! Matt, you son of a bitch, hold me back! Do not let go of me!'
Matt, unaware of his best friend's inner turmoil, simply thought Ben's fragile ego was bruised badly. He assumed Ben was unconvinced of his defeat and drunkenly wanted to continue the fight, risking even more severe humiliation at the hands of that freak of a boy.
Matt tightened his grip, pulling Ben further back, and whispered urgently, harshly into Ben's ear, "Man, are you insane? Why are you provoking him again? The kid is a freak! Haven't you had enough of a beating for one night? Look at the cameras! Calm the fuck down!"
Ben yelled back in the soundproof prison of his own mind: 'My mind is perfectly calm, you idiot! It's my body! My body is out of my control!'
But what actually came out of Ben's mouth was a string of suicidal bravado. He screamed outwardly, spit flying from his split lip: "Let me go! Let me go, damn it, Matt! Let me teach that arrogant little kid a lesson in respect!"
He continued to shout mentally: 'And my damn mouth! Shut up! Shut up, you absolute fool!'
If he possessed the control to do so, Ben would have gladly had Matt shut him up by stuffing a wadded-up tablecloth into his mouth. Anything to stop the words that were destroying his future.
Matt was getting genuinely angry and annoyed. Though Ben had always been known in Boston circles as a hot-headed brawler, he had never been this out of control in a professional setting.
Matt swore and tightened his grip. "Will you calm the fuck down?"
Ben's face contorted. "Fuck you!"
'Thank you, Matt.'
Marvin stood among the broken glass, watching Matt barely drag Ben a few feet away from him.
Ben fought him for another few seconds, his body still jerking against Matt's grip, but the fury had gone strangely flat. There was no strategy left in it. No real thought. Just the ugly momentum of a fight that should have ended several minutes ago.
Marvin's smile faded. 'Enough.'
It was time to withdraw his direct influence from Ben's system. Taking physical control of an adult human's motor functions in a crowded room had taken a measurable toll on his slowly regenerating mana reserves, but—he glanced subtly out of the corner of his eye at the beautiful women in the room looking at him with naked admiration, lu$ț—it was worth the expenditure.
Marvin foresaw sociological math perfectly. He knew this publicized incident would boost his reputation and immediately improve his political standing with feminist organizations across the country. In these times, these groups were rapidly gaining political and cultural influence in the media landscape. Although their future, more aggressive extremes hadn't yet fully developed in the mainstream, they already wielded considerable power to make or break a public figure. By defending an actress from sexual assault by a larger male aggressor, Marvin had just secured unshakeable moral high ground. If he played his PR cards right, this could be advantageous, helping to shape a safer, profitable future for the Meyers Group.
He let go of his hold on Ben's nervous system.
The change was immediate.
Ben shockingly realized his body no longer felt driven by a foreign rage. Ben's shoulders dropped. His hands stopped clawing at Matt's arms. His legs nearly gave out beneath him, and Matt caught him before he hit the floor.
"Jesus, Ben."
Matt tightened his grip around him. "You done?"
Ben blinked.
For the first time since the fight began, his thoughts and body belonged entirely to him again.
He looked at Matt. Then at Marvin. Then at the wreckage around them. His face drained. "Oh, fuck."
Matt frowned. "What?"
Ben swallowed. He remembered the punch.
The kid moving. The pain. The floor coming up at him. Then the second time. Then the third.
But there was something worse. He remembered everything he'd said. Everything he'd done. And now he could finally stop himself. "It wasn't me."
Matt stared at him. "What?"
Ben shook his head quickly. "I didn't—"
His eyes darted toward Marvin. Marvin simply watched him.
Ben's face tightened. "I swear to God, I couldn't stop."
Matt looked at him as if he'd finally lost whatever sense he'd had left. "You're drunk."
"No." Ben shook his head harder. "No, I'm serious."
He looked around the room. Hundreds of eyes were fixed on him. Cameras were still raised. Harvey stood near the wreckage, furious. Charlize and Nicole was beside Marvin.
Ben's breathing quickened. "I wasn't controlling myself."
Matt rubbed a hand over his face. "Ben..."
"I'm telling you!"
"What the hell do you want me to say?"
Ben pointed toward Marvin. "I think someone did something to me."
A few people nearby exchanged looks. Someone snorted.
Ben heard it.
"Fuck you."
Matt caught his shoulder. "Just shut up for a second."
But Ben couldn't. He was still staring at Marvin. "That wasn't me! I swear to God, I was possessed! Please, you have to believe me! An evil, invisible force took over my body! I couldn't stop moving!"
Hearing the A-list Hollywood actor scream about possession, the entire ballroom went into a stunned, baffled silence.
Then, a single, sharp burst of laughter broke the quiet. One of the medics, who had rushed over to check on the injuries, couldn't hold it in and laughed out loud at the absurdity of the excuse.
With that single spark, he unleashed a wave of suppressed, echoing laughter that rippled through the elite crowd. But one person in particular laughed especially loud and without any restraint—Tom Cruise.
With his undisputed status as the biggest star on the planet, Tom didn't care about preserving Ben Affleck's fragile dignity. Although Tom had secretly hoped that Marvin would be the one beaten to a pulp, Ben's frantic, desperate excuse was so pathetically ridiculous that it made Tom throw his head back and laugh out loud.
"Possessed by a ghost?" Tom mocked, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. "This guy really is an idiot! He can't even come up with a decent PR lie."
Matt Damon's furrowed brow slowly began to relax as he felt the resistance leave Ben's body. It seemed his harsh words had finally worked, and Ben was finally able to control himself. Ben was back!
'But... is 'possession' really the best explanation you could come up with, Ben?' Matt thought to himself, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing along with the crowd. He quickly shifted gears, his mind trying to figure out a tactical way to get them both out of this humiliating situation alive.
While Ben was still staring at Marvin. "That kid—"
Marvin raised an eyebrow. Ben's mouth opened. Nothing came out. Whatever remained of his courage disappeared under that look.
Matt noticed. So did Harvey.
Harvey's eyes narrowed as he studied Marvin. The boy hadn't raised his voice once.
Charlize finally stepped forward. "Ben."
He looked at her. She didn't sound frightened anymore.
That seemed to surprise him. "I told you to let me go."
Ben's jaw tightened.
Charlize glanced at the handprint around her wrist, then back at him. "You should have listened."
There was no trembling in her voice now. No apology. No attempt to soften it.
Ben looked away.
Matt lowered his voice.
"Come on." Ben didn't move. "Come on, man."
Matt pulled him another step back. Across the room, Harvey's expression remained dark. "This is going to be handled," he said.
His voice carried enough authority to quiet the whispers.
He looked at Charlize first. "Are you hurt?"
Charlize shook her head. "No."
Harvey's eyes moved to Ben. "And him?"
Matt answered before Ben could. "He's had too much to drink."
Harvey gave him a long look. "Clearly."
Ben bristle. "I wasn't—"
Matt squeezed his arm. "Don't."
Ben shut his mouth. Harvey looked toward Marvin. For several seconds, neither man spoke. Then Harvey said, "You all right?"
Marvin brushed a speck of dust from his sleeve. "I'm fine."
His gaze shifted briefly to Charlize. "She's the one you should be asking."
Harvey followed his eyes. Something unreadable crossed his face.
Charlize noticed it. So did Marvin.
The room had changed.
Only minutes ago, she had been another young actress trying to find her way through Hollywood.
Now everyone in the room knew she'd been cornered. And everyone knew who had stepped in.
Charlize looked at Marvin. There was gratitude in her eyes, but something else had settled there too.
Trust.
She moved closer without seeming to realize she'd done it. Their shoulders nearly touched.
Marvin glanced down at her. "You all right?"
She nodded. "Yes."
Then, after a beat, she added quietly, "Thank you."
Marvin gave her a small smile. "You don't have to thank me."
"I do." Her voice softened. "You came when I needed someone."
Marvin held her gaze for a moment. "Then you won't have to ask twice next time."
Something in her expression shifted.
She looked away before anyone could read too much into it.
Across the room, Matt was still trying to keep Ben from wild again
"Just breathe," he muttered.
Ben glared at him. "I am breathing."
"Good. Keep doing that."
Ben rubbed his face. "This night is fucked."
Matt glanced at the shattered table. "Yeah."
He looked at the cameras. "And tomorrow's going to be worse."
Ben followed his gaze. The color slowly returned to his face. "Oh, God."
Matt gave him a tired look. "Now you're getting it."
Nearby, Tom Cruise watched the entire exchange with a tight smile.
Then something clicked for Matt. Not all at once. Just a small, ugly thought that slipped through the panic.
'Wait.'
He looked at Ben again. Ben was pale beneath the flush of alcohol, breathing hard, staring around the room like he had no idea how he'd ended up there.
Matt's eyes narrowed.
****
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