After spending one more day with Dakota, Cassius flew back to Los Angeles.
Green Lantern post-production had hit full sprint mode.
Warner had locked the release for the Christmas slot, which meant every department—VFX, sound, editing—was running on pure caffeine and panic.
Cassius's promo obligations kicked in the first week of October. That afternoon he rolled up to a downtown studio with Rob and a Warner PR handler for a full GQ feature shoot and sit-down interview.
The theme was crystal clear: "New Face, New Hero—Cassius and the Green Lantern."
They'd built three sets: a sleek futuristic Oa backdrop, a retro Chinatown teahouse that nodded to the movie's opening, and a clean white infinity wall for classic portraits.
Makeup, hair, wardrobe—Cassius had the routine down cold by now.
The photographer, Luca—an Italian guy with a little ponytail who specialized in capturing raw male energy (yeah, he was definitely gay)—tweaked the lights and called out in his thick accent, "Cass, relax. Imagine there's actual energy pulsing in your hands, but keep it grounded, okay? Not full-on superhero, just… you."
Cassius cracked up and loosened right away.
The shoot flew. Luca kept firing off the shutter like a machine gun.
"Perfect!"
"Amazing!"
"Give me that brooding stare—like your stocks just dropped thirty percent!"
Between set changes, a sharp thirty-something woman in a tailored blazer stepped up with a recorder and notebook. Lena from GQ.
Rob had prepped a solid outline, so Cassius cruised through the questions: filming stories, how he saw the character, working with Keira and Martin, what it meant to be the first Asian lead in a major DC tentpole. He mixed in just enough humor and honest reflection to keep it real. Lena kept nodding, clearly digging it.
"Last question," she said, closing her notebook with a smile. "The movie isn't even out yet, but you've already sparked a ton of buzz—and plenty of backlash. What do you say to the people who doubt you can pull off Green Lantern?"
That one wasn't on the briefing sheet, but Cassius had been waiting for it.
"I get it—any big swing is gonna catch heat. My job is simple: show up on screen and let the work speak. If people walk out of the theater feeling the story, feeling the heart of it… that's louder than any argument I could make."
Interview wrapped. Shoot wrapped. Rob checked his watch. "Car's out front, let's bounce."
Fate had other plans.
Someone on the crew must've leaked the schedule, or maybe a fan had been camping. Either way, when they stepped out the side exit, twenty-plus people were already clustered by the curb—paparazzi with long lenses and a pack of hardcore DC fans clutching comics, posters, even homemade signs.
"Shit," Rob muttered. "PR said they'd clear the area."
The Warner rep went pale and started dialing. Too late.
"It's Cassius!"
The crowd surged. Security pushed in, but the shouting cut right through.
"Cassius! Over here!"
The paparazzi went feral with the shutters.
The fans were split—some just excited, but a knot of guys up front looked pissed. A chubby teen in black-rimmed glasses waved a classic Hal Jordan comic and yelled, "You really think you can replace Hal Jordan? He's a U.S. Air Force test pilot, not some coder!"
His buddy shoved a poster higher. "Green Lantern is American!"
A bearded dude in his thirties, thick Green Lantern trade paperback in hand, bellowed loudest: "You ruined DC! Changing the hero for the Asian market? That's straight-up betrayal!"
The lenses zoomed in, hungry for Cassius's reaction.
Rob tried to step forward. Cassius gently held him back. The PR guy was sweating bullets, whispering, "Best to say nothing and get in the car."
Cassius scanned the faces. Favorability numbers hovered between 10 and 30—annoyed but not hostile. A few Asian kids on the edge held phones up, their numbers in the 60s, clearly rooting for him.
He'd faced this online plenty. First time doing it face-to-face.
If he ducked or snapped, the clip would be everywhere in thirty seconds.
He took half a step forward, voice steady but loud enough to carry. "Hey, everybody."
The noise dipped.
"I hear you loud and clear. First off—thank you. The fact you're this fired up proves how much you love the character. That love is exactly why we're making the movie."
A couple of the angriest guys blinked.
"I'm not here to replace Hal Jordan," Cassius continued, calm and sincere. "Hal is a legend. But the Green Lantern Corps has 7,200 members across the universe. This is a brand-new story for right now—about an ordinary guy named Cassius who's figuring out courage, responsibility, and what it really means to protect people."
He pointed at the bearded guy with the trade paperback. "You're right—the comics are sacred. Our team has veteran comic consultants on speed dial. We're walking that line between fresh take and deep respect."
"And here's a little spoiler for the real fans: there are honest-to-God Easter eggs paying tribute to the classics. You'll spot 'em."
Then he looked straight at the Asian kids on the edge. "As for why the lead is Asian—superheroes are about willpower, not skin color. If someone watches this and thinks, 'Hey, maybe I could be a hero too,' that's the spirit of the ring living on."
He kept his tone respectful, never defensive.
The crowd quieted. The chubby kid opened his mouth, then closed it again—no comeback ready. The bearded guy frowned but stayed silent.
From the back an Asian girl called out, "We've got your back, Cassius! Can't wait for the movie!"
Her friends chimed in: "Break the stereotypes!"
Cassius smiled and nodded their way. "Thank you."
Paparazzi went nuts. Security used the lull to clear a path. Rob and the PR guy hustled Cassius toward the waiting SUV.
Right before he climbed in, he turned back. "All the questions, all the doubt—save it for December. Come see the movie. I believe it'll give you the best answer. Thanks for showing up."
Door shut. The car pulled away.
"Fuck!" Rob exploded the second they were rolling. "You handled that like a champ, bro. Didn't fall into their trap."
The PR rep let out a long breath. "That was textbook. I'll track the coverage. But Cassius, with promo ramping up, these ambush moments are gonna keep happening. You good?"
Cassius leaned back, watching the city slide past the window. The encounter had crystallized everything: from here to opening day, every word, every expression was under a microscope. Fans who loved him would lift him up. The ones who didn't would sharpen their knives.
He glanced at his phone. Clips and stills were already blowing up. Comments split straight down the middle—hate, support, memes, the works.
From GQ onward, the press circuit went into overdrive: Entertainment Weekly, The Hollywood Reporter, Variety, Jimmy Kimmel, Conan—everything lined up.
Like Rob put it: "You fart now and three different outlets will write think-pieces on the deeper meaning."
The price? The "Not My Green Lantern" backlash went nuclear.
Hardcore comic purists and certain conservative fans lit up every forum. "RIP Hal Jordan" edits flooded timelines. Old footage of Cassius as background Asian extra got clipped into supercuts with headlines like "This Is the Hero They're Forcing On Us."
Even his Han Lee scenes from 2 Broke Girls got sliced up next to Green Lantern concept art, captioned "Comedy sidekick vs. actual hero."
Rob scrolled through the worst of it on his tablet, teeth clenched. "These clowns act like superheroes can only be played by six-foot-four white dudes from 2005."
"Times change, man," Cassius said quietly. "Let the loud ones scream. The ones who matter are the fence-sitters who might actually buy a ticket."
Warner and DC decided to lean into the noise. They threw a small, invite-only Green Lantern fan event in L.A.—a mini Oa-themed pop-up with a curated first-look reel.
The room was packed with about two hundred comic journalists, big fan-site admins, and die-hard ticket winners.
Cassius sat onstage in a casual blazer beside Director Martin Campbell, the producers, and DC's chief creative officer.
Down in the crowd, most favorability numbers sat in the 30–40 range—watching, waiting. A handful below 10 folded their arms, faces tight, pure hostility.
At least none were negative. Small mercies.
Warm-up done, Q&A started.
First hand up belonged to a middle-aged guy in a faded Green Lantern tee and glasses. He took the mic and went straight for the throat.
"Martin, I grew up on these comics. Hal Jordan is an adventurer, a test pilot—full of that classic American swagger and recklessness. Why throw all of that away for a completely different background?"
Martin took the mic smoothly.
"Great question. We never threw Hal away. The Corps has 7,200 members. We're simply telling one new story—one about a regular guy living in our world right now."
"Heroism evolves. Courage, willpower, duty—those don't have a zip code. What happens when an ordinary person—maybe you, maybe me—suddenly gets handed god-like power and the weight that comes with it? That's the story we want to explore."
The answer was polished. Professional. Safe.
But judging by the guy's still-tight jaw, it hadn't landed.
Cassius leaned forward slightly, ready for whatever came next. The real test was just beginning.