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The guy in the faded Green Lantern tee frowned, mouth already opening for round two, but the event staff smoothly plucked the mic out of his hand.
Next up, a nervous-looking college-age girl stood. "Mr. Cassius, I loved you in 2 Broke Girls, but comedy and superhero movies are totally different. How do you even approach playing a character who needs that kind of commanding presence and unbreakable willpower?"
Cassius smiled—classic reporter-trap question, but he'd prepped for it. He leaned into the mic. "Thanks, that means a lot. The process is night-and-day different. I put in serious physical training, drilled the fight choreography until I could do it in my sleep, and spent weeks breaking down every single emotional beat in the script."
"What drew me to the role is exactly how normal he starts out. He's not some born warrior. He gets scared, he second-guesses himself, but at his core he's just a decent guy trying to do the right thing. That growth arc… it hits different. And the presence?" He relaxed back in his chair, eyes steady on the girl. "Presence isn't always about standing tall with your chin up. Sometimes it's the split-second when you're terrified but you still step in front of the danger anyway."
His voice carried that quiet confidence the upgraded Aura attribute had been sharpening for weeks. A low ripple of murmurs moved through the crowd.
Cassius caught the girl's favorability tick up from 45 to 58. A few others around her bumped a couple points too.
Then a voice cut in from the back row—no mic, no hand-raise, just pure sarcasm: "You're spending hundreds of millions of dollars… to tell an ordinary guy's coming-of-age story?"
Snickers rolled through the seats. "Marvel's got Tony Stark—the genius billionaire in a badass suit. That's cool. This feels kinda—"
He didn't finish, but the implication hung there like a bad smell.
The producer's face tightened. DC's creative chief started to speak, but Cassius beat him to the mic, calm as ever.
"Quick question for you, sir," he said, genuinely curious. "What actually makes a superhero story stick with you? The shiny armor and powers… or the choice the character makes when everything's on the line?"
He didn't wait for an answer. "Tony Stark is awesome, sure. But his real moment? That cave. The second he decides to stop building weapons and start protecting people. That's the hero origin. Not the suit—the heart."
Cassius leaned forward just enough. "And hey, nobody said we're skipping the cool stuff. You're gonna see the full scale of Oa, the insane imagination battles with the ring—trust me, it's all there."
He flashed a small grin. "We just figured the flashiest effects land harder when they're built on a character people can actually root for."
The room went quiet for a beat. The heckler opened his mouth, then closed it again. No comeback.
The rest of the Q&A settled into normal territory—questions about training with Gina, chemistry with Keira, Easter eggs for the comics fans. When it wrapped, a couple of the skeptics even lined up for autographs.
Cassius had handled the room like a pro.
But the internet? Different story.
By the time he got home, Twitter and every comic forum were on fire.
A brand-new group calling itself the "True Green Lantern Alliance" had popped up overnight. Their bio read like a mission statement: "Dedicated to preserving the original spirit and purity of DC heroes. No character retcons."
Their first big move? An online petition titled #NotMyGreenLantern demanding Warner recast or bring back Hal Jordan. Fifty thousand signatures in three days.
That was just the appetizer.
Worse shit started bubbling up fast.
An anonymous post on a major film board had the charming title: Stop That Asian Guy from Polluting Our Hero. It was pure racist garbage—claiming Cassius's casting was some Chinese-capital takeover plot and calling on "real Americans" to boycott. The post got screenshotted and spread everywhere before the mods could nuke it.
Then a real-world group called "Guardians of Classic Cinema" got in on the action. They weren't just online—they were printing flyers with Cassius's face Photoshopped to look demonic and the slogan "Say No to Asian Heroes." The things were showing up outside theaters in L.A. and New York.
"Fuck this!" Rob slammed a stack of printouts and a crumpled flyer onto Cassius's coffee table. He paced the living room like a caged animal. "This crossed the line from movie talk to straight-up racist attack! Warner's PR clowns just drop two weak statements and call it a day?"
Cassius picked up the flyer. Cheap paper, terrible Photoshop, ugly text. He'd seen this playbook before—just in Chinese forums back in his old life. American trolls apparently used the same ancient template.
"Warner did issue that statement condemning racist rhetoric," he pointed out.
"Condemning does jack shit!" Rob was practically spitting. "We need lawsuits! FBI knocking on doors! At least get security to boot these psychos from theaters!"
Cassius tapped his knee, thinking. "Lawsuits take forever and give them exactly what they want—more headlines. They're begging for the fight."
"So we just let them smear you?" Rob stared.
"Nope." Cassius handed over his phone, open to the trending threads. "Look. The hate's loud, but the support's growing too."
Steven Yeun had retweeted one of Cassius's interview clips: "Can't wait to see Cassius's Green Lantern."
A bunch of non-Asian creators and regular viewers jumped in. Big-time critic Max Reed wrote in his column: "We bitch about Hollywood being formulaic and stale, then someone tries something new with a different background hero and the loudest complaints come from the so-called 'true fans.' Irony much? I'm choosing to trust Martin Campbell and the potential Cassius has already shown."
Even some comic purists were starting to cool off, pulling panels of John Stewart and other non-white Lanterns to argue diversity was baked into the Corps from the start.
Green Lantern was blowing up before it even dropped.
The top three trending topics on Twitter right now?
#NotMyGreenLantern
#RiseOfTheAzureDragon
#Cassius
Click any of them and it was pure online cage match—supporters, haters, meme lords, and clout-chasers all screaming at once.
Warner, being Warner, saw dollar signs in the chaos and dropped the first official trailer.
Twenty-four hours later: over 100 million views worldwide.
Comment count shattered records.
Proof positive that in their eyes, actors were just tools for making money.
Sure enough, the roadshow schedule hit Cassius's inbox the next morning.
He'd been expecting it.
North American press tour kicked off immediately.
First stop: New York.
Rob stared at the itinerary and winced. "Week one: New York, Boston, Chicago, D.C. All the East Coast powder-keg cities. Warner really knows how to pick the fun spots."
"Can't exactly start in rural Alabama," Cassius said, double-checking his suitcase. "Nobody there even goes to the movies."
Joining him for the first leg: Gina and Keira.
Gina would hype the action, Keira would cover the emotional beats, and Cassius—the walking controversy—would be the main event. The press packet called them "The Power Triangle: Will, Strength, and Truth."
VIP lounge at LAX. The three of them finally linked up.
Gina showed up in sleek workout gear, small duffel slung over one shoulder. She punched Cassius's arm the second she saw him. "Ready for the screaming and the rotten eggs, Green Lantern?"
Cassius rocked back with a grin. "Hoping for mostly screaming. Eggs are a waste of perfectly good food."
Keira arrived in a simple beige trench coat, wheeling a tiny suitcase, cool and collected as always. She gave Cassius a small nod when their eyes met.
He seriously wondered if the woman was asexual. Her favorability had been locked at a rock-steady 90 for weeks now—like she was professionally immune to drama.
On the plane Cassius took the window, Gina the aisle, Keira in the middle. Gina popped in noise-canceling headphones and studied fight choreography on her iPad, knee bouncing to some invisible beat. Keira opened her script and read in silence.
Cassius closed his eyes.
Roadshow days were prime attribute-orb territory.
And right now he was sitting between two absolute gold mines.
He could already feel the last few stalled attributes about to break through.
AMC Lincoln Square, New York.
The first stop had been chosen on purpose—the heart of the industry and the eye of the storm.
Two hours before the event, the plaza outside was already split into two warring camps.
One side: a long, buzzing line of excited fans—young, diverse, homemade signs everywhere.
"Cassius! OUR Green Lantern!"
"Willpower has no color!"
Their favorability numbers floated between 60 and 80.
God, fans are the best.
Cassius cracked the tinted window and waved.
The screams that answered him shook the whole damn plaza.