Happy New Year, bosses!
The plane touched down on the LAX runway. Cassius stared out the window at the familiar sprawl of Los Angeles and let out a long breath.
Twelve days in Rio had felt like twelve years.
"Welcome home, bro!"
Vin Diesel slapped his shoulder from the next seat. Even the bald action star looked relieved.
In those final days in Rio, everyone slept with one eye open.
The cabin door opened. The first face Cassius saw was Rob's.
His agent stood at the end of the jet bridge in a wrinkled suit, eye bags hanging to his chin. He'd clearly flown overnight and waited at the airport for hours.
The second he spotted Cassius, Rob rushed forward and crushed him in a bear hug that nearly cracked ribs.
"Jesus Christ, you're alive!"
Rob pulled back, scanning him head to toe. "No missing limbs? Concussion? PTSD? I already lined up the best shrink on the West Coast—"
"I'm fine. Just tired," Cassius said with a tired laugh.
"Tired? You almost died in a favela! My heart nearly stopped when I got the news!" Rob's voice cracked. "That stupid contract kept me stuck in L.A. If I'd gone with you—"
He didn't finish. He didn't have to.
Rob was the cautious, detail-obsessed type. If he'd been there, he might have spotted the security holes earlier.
Cassius patted his shoulder. "It's over. We're good."
Rob pulled out his phone and started scrolling through emails. "A ton of studios are already throwing offers at you—paychecks bigger than anything you've seen."
"People magazine wants an exclusive. The New York Times wants a feature."
Cassius glanced at the screen. The inbox was flooded.
"Slow down. I need a breather first."
"Take all the time you need," Rob said, pocketing the phone. "One thing you should know—Universal just donated half a million dollars to rebuild the school and water system in the Rocinha community."
Cassius raised an eyebrow.
Half a million wasn't huge for a major studio, but it bought them serious goodwill in Brazil. Politics is politics everywhere.
"What about Director Lin?"
"He played it smart," Rob said, sounding impressed. "He offered to cut some behind-the-scenes footage into a short promo film for the Rio tourism board. They're thrilled—way more valuable than cash."
They kept talking as they walked out.
The terminal was packed with reporters. The second Cassius stepped into view, camera flashes exploded.
"Mr. Cassius! Can you describe what it felt like being under fire?"
"Are you suing the Brazilian government?"
"Rumors say you personally took out several gunmen—is that true?"
The questions came fast and sharp.
Rob stepped in front like a shield. "Thank you all for your concern. Mr. Cassius needs rest right now. We'll schedule a proper press conference later."
They finally made it into the waiting SUV. Cassius sank into the back seat and closed his eyes.
He was finally home.
The next week, Cassius didn't leave the Beverly Hills house.
Kristen stayed three days, then he gently sent her back to her own set. She had a movie to finish.
Dakota called from New York on video, made sure he wasn't having a breakdown, then hung up.
Jennifer had already bought her own place in Beverly Hills, but she was still on location. They'd catch up once he started shooting again.
Cassius opened his laptop.
His social accounts were on fire.
Weibo followers had jumped two million. Under his simple "I'm safe, thank you everyone" post, comments topped 800,000.
He scrolled through them:
"Cass is okay [heart]"
"Every netizen just breathed a sigh of relief."
"Heard the embassy stepped in—motherland is the best!"
"Don't take any more dangerous gigs. We're scared for you."
"Is the Rural Film Quest still going? Waiting for updates."
The last one made him pause.
He'd almost forgotten.
He opened the latest email from the project manager.
Progress was solid. Volunteers had sent photos from the village screenings—dozens of them.
Cassius looked at the pictures of kids' faces lit up by the projector screen and felt it again: this project was right.
Movies could open their eyes, show them the world was bigger than their small village. Maybe some of those kids would grow up to do something meaningful for the country.
At the very least, they wouldn't be stuck living the same limited life their parents did.
He picked nine of the most touching photos and uploaded them to a new Weibo album.
Caption: "Thank you for worrying about me. I'm okay. And thank you to every volunteer showing movies in the villages—you gave me the chance to see the purest smiles on those kids' faces. The Rural Film Quest will keep going. When I'm back, let's do even more together."
The post hit ten thousand reposts in under ten minutes.
"Teared up. Cass still remembers the project."
"These photos hit different."
"Cassius , you're the most thoughtful actor in the industry. No contest."
Cassius smiled, then switched over to Twitter.
The top comment was: "So did you really shoot and kill several people?"
Someone replied: "Dude, he's an actor, not a hitman!"
Another post showed the viral "Hollywood Danger Ranking" chart with Cassius's name now at the very top in red, annotated: "Filmed on-location in a favela. Unlocked real gunfight DLC."
Cassius retweeted it with the comment: "Next time I'll just use green screen. Cheaper and safer."
Self-deprecating humor was always the best PR.
While checking DMs, he saw a few different ones.
One account claiming to be a family member of a local crew member wrote in Portuguese. The translation read: "Thank you for not abandoning the local staff that day. My sister was a cleaner on the production. She said you guys brought some terrified workers with you while escaping. God bless you."
Cassius didn't remember personally doing that—probably other crew members—but it still felt good.
Three days later, in the afternoon, Rob set up a small online press conference.
He hand-picked five outlets: Xinhua, AP, The Hollywood Reporter, Brazil's O Globo, and a major entertainment outlet.
The first four questions were exactly what Cassius expected: recovery, whether he'd continue Fast & Furious, his impression of Rio, future projects.
He answered smoothly.
Injuries fine. He respected the production's schedule. Rio was beautiful but needed better security. He was reading new scripts but needed time.
After the press conference ended, Rob gave him a thumbs-up.
Cassius didn't say anything.
He walked to the window and looked out at the Los Angeles skyline.
Cassius didn't rest long.
A few days later Rob came over.
"2 Broke Girls producers sent a formal offer for season two. They want you to call them when you have time."
Cassius raised an eyebrow and took the phone.
The producer's voice came through, excited: "Cassius! My dear Cassius! Heard you made it out of Rio alive? Thank God! So we need to talk about season two."
"You have to come back! Do you know how big Han is right now? Twitter is flooded with your reaction GIFs!"
Cassius smiled.
He knew.
After season one aired, the originally minor Asian restaurant owner Han Lee had become one of the audience's favorite characters thanks to the Feng Shui jokes and coin tricks he'd added.
Especially the funny scenes that fans turned into memes.
Now the internet was full of GIFs of him rolling his eyes.
"I'm honored," Cassius said, not turning it down outright. Han was a great role, but his schedule was packed. "My plate is full right now. Fast & Furious 5 global promo starts soon, and Hunger Games reshoots are next month—"
The producer cut him off: "Two hundred thousand per episode, Cassius. We'll work around your schedule. You can sign for only some episodes—we'll shoot all your scenes in a tight block!"
Cassius was stunned.
Two hundred thousand per episode was top-tier money for a sitcom.
Even the Big Bang Theory leads hadn't reached that until season eight.
Even more shocking was how flexible they were willing to be. In Hollywood, that kind of accommodation was usually reserved for guys like Tom Cruise.
Hearing Cassius's silence, the producer kept going, almost pleading: "You know how much the ratings jumped in the last three episodes of season one? Twenty-three percent! Just because you had a few more scenes. The network already said if you're not in season two, they're cutting the budget by a third!"
Cassius hung up.
Rob, who had been listening, looked stunned. "Two hundred grand an episode!"
Cassius handed the phone back and leaned into the couch.
Rob was already tapping on his tablet. "They're willing to bend the schedule that much? That means you can do 2 Broke Girls, Fast & Furious 5, Hunger Games 2, and still squeeze in another movie!"
"God… a year ago you were excited about a five-thousand-dollar background gig. Now…"
He didn't finish, but Cassius knew what he meant.
Rob had watched the whole journey—from extra to this.
"Take it?" Rob asked.
"Take it," Cassius said. "But only six episodes, shot in a tight two-week block. And I have one condition."
He continued: "This season we expand Han's backstory. Why did he come to America? Why is he so obsessed with Feng Shui? The audience loves the character not just because he's funny, but because he feels real. We need to make that realness complete."
Rob gave a thumbs-up. "Professional. I'll go negotiate right now."
Cassius had the leverage now, and the producers and network would seriously consider his input.
Brooklyn, the soundstage.
When Cassius's car pulled into the lot, he almost thought he'd come to the wrong place.
At least three hundred fans were crowded outside the studio, holding signs, posters, and phones. The second he stepped out, the screams erupted.
"Cassius! Cassius! Cassius!"
"HAN LEE I LOVE YOU!"
"Can I get an autograph? I drove from New Jersey!"
"Do the coin trick again! Please!"
Security guards linked arms to form a human wall, barely holding the crowd back.
Cassius signed autographs the whole way in. It took him a full fifteen minutes just to reach the stage door.
Inside, Kat and Beth were running lines. They looked up when they heard the noise.
"Whoa!" Kat put her script down. "Look who finally showed up!"
She knew what happened in Rio but had only called to check in—she wasn't the type to add drama.
Cassius hugged her. "You guys got a concert going on out there or what?"
"Because of you!" Kat rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "You know how early those fans started lining up? Five in the morning!"
"Beth and I came in through the back door. Not a single fan. They were all waiting for you at the front."
Beth chimed in: "And I heard the audience tickets for today's taping are going for five hundred bucks each on eBay. Five hundred! Just to watch you film a sitcom!"
Cassius was a little stunned.
He hadn't expected the fans to be this intense.
The producer jogged over and clapped him on the shoulder. "See that? That's your pull! You're the ratings guarantee now!"
Before they started shooting, the director pulled Cassius aside and quickly went over the day's scenes.
The script had already been updated per Cassius's earlier requests—fast work.
They rolled.
When Cassius walked onto the set in Han's familiar outfit, the live studio audience erupted in a full minute of applause and cheers.
He had to stop and bow in every direction.
Kat whispered beside him: "Bro, are you here to shoot a comedy or accept an Oscar?"
"I didn't expect this either," Cassius said honestly.
The taping went smoothly.
Cassius realized that even though it had been almost a year since he last played Han, the character fit like a favorite old shirt. The little mannerisms came back instantly.
He also noticed that with his Acting Realm now at a higher level, even his comedy performance had more depth.
The same eye-roll that used to be pure exaggeration now carried subtle layers—exasperation, annoyance, and a hint of affection.
During Han's monologue scene—the one where he sits alone in the empty restaurant after closing, talking to the lucky coin his father left him—the whole studio fell silent.
This scene had been expanded per Cassius's suggestion.
"I came to America with three things," Cassius said softly to the coin. "This shirt, this coin, and a dream. Now the shirt's old, the coin's still here, and the dream… became this restaurant."
"Sometimes I wonder, if I had stayed , what would my life look like now? Maybe I'd have my own place? Maybe I'd be married?"
"Then I think—did I make the wrong choice coming here?"
"In this country, one failure and you're done. You fall to the bottom and never climb back up."
He paused, slowly turning the coin in his fingers.
"So this restaurant isn't just a restaurant. It's my life."
The director didn't call cut.
A few soft sobs came from the audience seats.
This was the story of the American middle class—everyone in the room knew it could happen to them next.
After they wrapped, Kat walked over and patted his shoulder. "Bro, that was too real. I almost cried."
"Sorry for stealing the scene," Cassius joked.
"You stole it perfectly. That's called acting," Beth said.
The day's taping finished early because the performances exceeded expectations.
While Cassius was changing back into his street clothes, the producer came over again.
"Cassius, we want to talk about a long-term deal."
The producer was direct: "We know you're a movie star now and sitcoms might feel small, but we want you to stay with 2 Broke Girls."
"Even if it's only a few episodes per season, we'll write Han as a restaurant owner who travels a lot. You show up when you can. If you can't, we'll just say he's back handling family stuff."
Cassius looked at him. "Why push so hard?"
"Because you and this character are tied together now!" the producer said seriously. "When audiences think of 2 Broke Girls, the first thing they think of isn't Max's sarcasm or Caroline's blonde hair—it's Han's Feng Shui and coin tricks. You're the soul of this show!"
Cassius smiled.
He had the power now.
And he knew exactly what he wanted to do with it.