"Cassius Turns Down Lionsgate's China Roadshow Invite Due to Scheduling Conflicts!"
The news hit the internet fast.
Jennifer texted him right away. "Heard those idiots came crawling to you? Don't even bother. The China stops were a total disaster. I've been stuck answering questions about you like an idiot. Serves them right."
Fans celebrated.
"Attaboy, Cass-ge! That's how you do it!"
"First they cut you out because they were scared, now they want you to clean up their mess? Dream on!"
"Support Cass-ge. Focus on Fast 6!"
Some fans felt a little disappointed. "Honestly, I was looking forward to seeing him and Jennifer together."
"Does this hurt the movie's box office?"
Clear-headed netizens jumped in. "Lionsgate really screwed themselves this time."
"Classic 'have your cake and eat it too' move. Ended up with nothing."
"Look how Universal treats Cassius. Then look at Lionsgate. Night and day."
Lionsgate headquarters.
The executives stared at the blunt refusal and sat in stunned silence for a long time.
They hadn't expected Cassius to shut them down so cleanly. No room for negotiation.
China box-office numbers were visibly sliding.
Fast & Furious 6 set.
During a break between garage scenes, Director Justin Lin walked over and handed Cassius a coffee. "Heard you turned down Lionsgate yesterday?"
Cassius took the cup. "Word travels fast."
Justin grinned. "Small circle."
"You did the right thing. Some respect isn't earned by compromising. It's earned by strength and by choosing when to say no."
He clapped Cassius on the shoulder. "You'll always have a spot with us."
Across the lot, Vin Diesel and Paul Walker were goofing around. When they spotted Cassius, both gave him a thumbs-up.
Cassius took a sip. Bitter, but it left a good aftertaste.
The panel showed [Reputation-Building] tick up another 1%.
Meanwhile at Lionsgate.
They had no good options left.
The China roadshow schedule had been locked in months ago. They had to push forward anyway.
Beijing stop.
The theater that should have held nearly a thousand people was barely half full.
On stage, the hosts tried to hype the crowd, but the energy stayed flat.
Jennifer kept smiling, but the exhaustion showed in her eyes.
During the Q&A, someone finally raised a hand. "Did they cut Cassius's scenes? Why isn't he in the promo at all?"
Same question they'd heard in Shanghai.
The producer forced another corporate smile and gave the same scripted answer.
Guangzhou stop was even worse.
Half the press seats stayed empty.
The journalists who showed up looked bored, snapping a few photos before asking limp questions.
The fan meet-and-greet Lionsgate had carefully planned drew almost no one. The backdrop and props looked painfully out of place.
Photos and videos leaked online within minutes. Headlines were brutal: "Hunger Games 2 Roadshow Flops in China — Awkward Enough to Rent a Three-Bedroom Apartment"
"No Cassius, no big sister pulling power in China?"
The moment a so-called insider leaked internal Lionsgate chat logs, the internet detonated.
The screenshots showed the marketing team deciding to sideline Cassius after the Warner drama, de-emphasize him in North American and Asian campaigns, and skip him on the China tour while they "monitored the situation."
Netizens lost their minds.
"Proof! They deliberately cut him out!"
"So they ghost him when North America gets nervous, then panic and try to drag him back when China needs him? Shameless!"
"Double standards much? They don't respect actors but still want the box office?"
"Stop pretending it was 'scheduling.' We're not stupid."
#BoycottHungerGames2 and #LionsgateDoubleStandards both trended hard.
Cassius's fan club dropped a fierce statement accusing Lionsgate of basic disrespect and hurting fans' feelings. They officially called for a boycott.
Even neutral big accounts piled on. Public opinion turned vicious.
The marketing VP stared at the collapsing numbers and terrible sentiment report, face gray.
He'd just gotten off another emergency call with headquarters. His voice was hoarse. "This isn't the time to hunt for who leaked the chats. We need damage control. Is Cassius still saying no?"
His assistant answered quietly, "His agent Rob was very clear. Cassius is deep in key scenes for Fast 6. Universal and Justin Lin are counting on him. No flexibility."
The VP slammed the table. "Fuck!"
After the outburst came pure helplessness.
He couldn't even blame headquarters. When they made the safe choice, the China team had gone along with it, hoping the franchise and Jennifer's star power would carry them.
Reality had slapped them hard.
"What now?" the marketing director asked.
"We keep going," the VP said tiredly. "Shrink the events, push Jennifer and the effects in all press releases. Don't mention Cassius once. Prepare a statement—make it sound sincere. Say we respect every actor, the earlier decisions were based on careful evaluation, and we regret any misunderstanding. Just get the heat down."
The late, half-hearted statement only made things worse.
"Regret? Now you regret?"
"Should've thought of that earlier."
"Zero sincerity."
The China roadshow limped to a finish in a miserable haze. The Lionsgate team practically fled with Jennifer to the next stop.
Back on the Fast & Furious 6 set in London.
The sun was shining.
They were shooting an outdoor convoy scene. Several heavily modified cars gleamed under the light.
Cassius leaned against his car while the stunt coordinator ran through positions.
Paul wandered over and handed him a water bottle, nodding toward a giant billboard of Jennifer in the distance. "Heard she had a rough time in China?"
Cassius twisted the cap off. "Lionsgate really stepped in it this time."
"Serves them right," Vin Diesel said, walking up in his leather jacket. "Hollywood's full of people who think they can minimize risk and maximize profit by treating actors like tools. They forget audiences aren't stupid—especially these days."
He glanced at Cassius. "You did the right thing. Lines matter. If you give in once, they'll expect you to give in again and again."
Justin Lin walked over with his walkie-talkie. "Exactly. This business is about people and stories. If you can't respect the people you work with, you can't tell stories that move anyone."
He clapped his hands. "Family, let's roll! Cassius, when we start, I want you to cut in from that mark and give me a clean, sharp powerslide. Make it look good. Got it?"
"Got it, Director."
Cassius slipped on his sunglasses and climbed into the car.
The engine roared. Shooting began.
Cassius handled the car with precision, nailing every shift and turn.
When he slid the car into position at a perfect angle, a couple of the stunt drivers whistled.
"Rare to see an actor with driving skills like that."
One of them watched Cassius's line and muttered, "If every actor drove like him, we'd be out of a job."
The other guy shot him a jealous look. "Good looks, insane car skills, and dating half of Hollywood? Life's not fair."
Advanced Driving Mastery +7
Camera Presence +5
Cassius absorbed the two purple orbs and felt his control over the modified car sharpen. He also suddenly understood exactly how to show off driving skills on camera.
During a break he checked Weibo. The Lionsgate roadshow disaster and their weak statement were still trending. Comments were brutal.
His own super-topic was full of fans posting Fast 6 set photos and hyping him up.
"Still love watching Cass-ge tear it up in London."
"Universal actually knows how to treat their people."
Rob texted: "Lionsgate is completely dead in the water. They've stopped mentioning you in Japan and Korea too. Just pushing Jennifer and the effects. After China, their Asia numbers are probably cooked."
Cassius replied with a simple "OK."
He didn't feel smug. It just felt inevitable. You reap what you sow—even in Hollywood.
Outside London.
An abandoned Royal Air Force base had been turned into the set.
The wide runways and hangars now looked like a gritty Eastern European town. Weathered walls, Russian signs, old streetlights, even a few beat-up Lada cars parked on the side.
In the middle of it all sat a monster.
A desert-camouflage T-72 main battle tank.
The tracks, the turret, the brutal lines gleamed under the lights. Just sitting there, it radiated raw power.
"Whoa…"
Cassius walked closer and couldn't help the sound that escaped him.
He'd played superheroes and driven plenty of modified cars, but standing this close to a real tank was a first.
This thing belonged to a completely different world than sports cars.
"Pretty badass, right?"
Paul was already circling it like a kid with a new toy. "I've only ever touched a static one in a museum."
Vin Diesel stood beside the tank in sunglasses, arms crossed. Even his massive presence looked a little smaller next to it.
Justin Lin and the military advisor were pointing at different parts of the tank.
When the leads gathered, Justin clapped the armor. "Family, for the next few days this is our new co-star. Simple but crazy. We need it to charge down this street, smash a few cars, then get stopped by our convoy with special cables."
"Sounds… ambitious," Gal said, staring up at the turret.
"That's why everyone's training," Justin said. "Sean here is going to teach you the basics—mainly driving. You won't be firing anything, but you need to keep it in a straight line, make turns, and react to cues. Safety first. Listen to Sean."
Sean was tall and serious. "This isn't a toy. We've disabled the main gun and limited the engine, but it's still over forty tons of steel. Once you're in the driver's compartment, you follow my instructions. Clear?"
Everyone nodded.
First lesson: get to know the tank.
Sean opened the hatch. The inside was cramped, full of levers, gauges, and pedals, and smelled strongly of oil and metal.
"Who wants to go first?"
Sean asked.
Everyone looked at each other.
Vin cleared his throat, ready to take the lead.
Cassius raised his hand first. "I'll try."
He was genuinely curious, and the panel seemed interested too—the edge was glowing faintly.
With Sean guiding him, Cassius squeezed into the driver's seat. It was even tighter than he'd imagined. The seat was hard, the view terrible—just a narrow slit straight ahead and old-school periscopes on the sides.
"This is the steering lever—controls direction and speed. This is the throttle. Gauges here—RPM, oil pressure, temperature—"
Sean leaned in and ran through everything quickly.
Cassius listened, building a mental model of the controls. He realized it worked nothing like a car. Steering came from changing the speed of the two tracks. More like driving heavy construction equipment.
Heavy Vehicle Basics +3
Spatial Awareness (Limited Visibility) +5
Two green orbs floated off Sean and got absorbed instantly.
Suddenly the confusing layout made sense, and he had a much better feel for judging direction with almost no view.
"Alright, start it up. Lowest gear. Gently push the left lever to turn slightly left."
Cassius took a breath and hit the starter.
The diesel engine growled, shaking the entire hull.
He eased the left lever forward.
The tracks screeched and the massive machine lurched slowly to the left.
"Perfect! Stop! Center it!"
Cassius brought the lever back.
He'd only moved a few feet, but the feeling of controlling forty-plus tons of steel made his heart race.
Way more intense than driving a sports car.
He climbed out, forehead damp with sweat.
Paul immediately asked, "How was it?"
"Like driving a moving building," Cassius said, wiping his face. "And the building has no windows."
Driving the tank was genuinely exhausting.
Vin went next. He stayed inside longer and came out looking cool, but Cassius noticed him wiping his palms on his pants.
Everyone got a turn.
Then came the real problem.
Sean had marked the exact route and impact points they needed for the scene with chalk.
"The path is mostly straight, but at point C you need to turn about fifteen degrees left to avoid the set pieces and stay in frame."
"That adjustment has to be precise, or you'll wreck the set or ruin the camera angles."
Paul looked at the tank, then the diagram, and scratched his head. "Sean, how the hell are we supposed to know if we're straight or turning fifteen degrees when we can barely see anything inside?"
Sean pointed at the periscopes. "With these. And experience. I'll be in the commander's position giving you radio cues."
Tyrese suddenly stared at the smooth rear armor and blurted out, "Does this tank even have a rearview mirror?"
The set went quiet for a second.
Everyone looked at the back of the tank.
Nothing. Just armor plates, tool boxes, and exhaust.
Laughter exploded.
"Rearview mirror? You think this is a Prius?"
Paul doubled over. "Oh my God, best question of the day!"
Even Sean cracked a smile. "Tanks are designed around forward and side threats. Rear observation is handled by the crew. No rearview mirrors, no."
Justin's eyes lit up. "Wait—'no rearview mirror' is gold! We're putting that in the dialogue!"
Everyone agreed it was perfect.
Tyrese rubbed the back of his neck, surprised his random comment had actually given them a joke.
Jokes aside, they still needed a solution for driving straight and making precise turns with almost no visibility.
The group brainstormed.
Vin suggested painting bright fluorescent lines on the ground in front of the tank.
Gal thought they could mark buildings in the periscope view.
Cassius thought for a moment, drawing on the new understanding from the orbs. "What if we use body feel as reference?"
"Like holding the levers at certain positions and feeling a specific vibration that means you're straight. Any change in that vibration means you're starting to turn."
Sean looked at him, surprised. "That's very close to how we train actual drivers. They learn to read the tank's vibration, sound, and inertia. It takes practice, but it works."