Cassius stared at the paused frame from the Fast 6 trailer on his phone.
That silhouette walking into the firelight.
Universal and Justin Lin had thrown their weight behind him in the middle of his fight with Warner. Whether it was genuine support or smart marketing, he'd remember the favor.
"You just stay cool," Rob said over the phone. "I'm handling L.A. Voting closes soon and every bit of noise right now can swing the last few undecided ballots."
Rob hung up in a rush.
Cassius slipped the phone back into his pocket and rolled his sore shoulders. He'd just come off a rough day on the wires.
Gunn was already barking orders for the next shot—the big group escape sequence where Star-Lord finally pulls the dysfunctional crew together.
Dave sidled up, grinning. "Earth drama still popping off?"
Cassius smirked and grabbed one of the ridiculous alien prop batteries from the table. "It's fine. But this prison break matters more."
He nodded toward the set. "Peter Quill's about to lose his mind if we don't break out of here."
"Damn right!" Dave raised his red Play-Doh can like a battle flag. "Let's tear this place down!"
Zoe was already in position, green skin gleaming under the prison lights. Bradley had his headphones on, ready to bring Rocket to life.
Cassius took a deep breath and let the weight of the day slide off. Right now he was Peter Quill—a cocky thief trying to turn a bunch of misfits into a crew that could actually survive.
"Quiet on set!"
The AD's voice cut through the noise.
They shot the escape sequence for three straight days. By the time Cassius stepped off the wires, every joint in his body was screaming.
Gunn's obsession with one long, unbroken shot had turned the scene into a nightmare. Star-Lord had to get thrown through the air, slam into metal pipes, bounce, and get caught by Rocket's grapple—all in one take.
"Beautiful, Peter!" Gunn shouted through the walkie. "That hit looked real as hell!"
Cassius winced and rubbed his ribs. Real? Yeah. Because he'd actually slammed into the damn pipe.
A purple orb dropped from him.
[Pain Tolerance +8]
At least he got something out of it.
He flew straight back to L.A. after wrap. The Oscars were in two days and he still had to deal with fittings, jet lag, and the endless pre-show circus.
The plane touched down at 4 a.m. Rob was waiting at the VIP exit, dark circles under his eyes and a stack of papers in his hand.
"Car," he muttered. "Talk there."
Inside the black SUV, Rob handed over a tablet. "Voting's closed. Our last push worked. Warner's scrambling."
"Seth MacFarlane's writers tried to slip in a joke about you," Rob continued. "Producers shut it down. Too on-the-nose."
Cassius scrolled through the polling data, eyes heavy. "So where do we actually stand?"
"Dead even," Rob said, rubbing his temples. "Waltz still leads with the old guard. Hoffman's got that textbook Method cred. But you've got the young voters, the international bloc, and the narrative we built around you as the future. The new academy members are the wild card."
Cassius tossed the tablet aside and leaned back against the leather. "If everything was predictable, there wouldn't be an Oscar show."
Rob glanced at him, then sighed. "Your tux is at the Beverly Hills Hotel. Fitting at ten. Kristen's still in New York, but Jennifer offered to walk the carpet with you."
Oscar night.
The Dolby Theatre red carpet was already a screaming wall of cameras and fans. The limo crawled forward while flashbulbs turned the night into daylight.
Cassius adjusted the cuffs of his custom navy Armani velvet suit. Jennifer sat beside him in a flowing ivory Dior gown, hair swept up, looking every inch the movie star.
"Nervous?" she asked, checking her lipstick in a compact.
"Manageable," Cassius said. "You're the one they're actually betting on."
Jennifer snorted. "Anne's the real threat tonight. You see that backless Chanel? Twitter's already losing its mind."
Cassius smiled but didn't answer. He knew what was coming for Jennifer later. That fall would be legendary—and good for her in every way that mattered.
The door opened and the noise hit like a wave.
"Jennifer! Over here!"
"Cassius! Cassius! Oh my God!"
Cassius stepped out first, then turned and offered his hand. Jennifer took it, her gown sweeping across his shoes as she emerged. They walked the carpet together, arms linked, smiling for the cameras while the crowd lost it.
"Jennifer! This way!"
"Cass! Smile for us!"
The host from E! News shoved a mic in their faces the second they reached the interview zone. "Jennifer! Second Best Actress nomination—how does it feel?"
Jennifer gave her brightest smile. "Being part of this film and this team is already the real win."
The host swung the mic to Cassius. "Cassius! First Oscar nomination and it's for Best Supporting Actor. A lot of people are calling this a historic moment. Your thoughts?"
Cassius angled slightly so the cameras caught his profile. "The nomination alone is an honor. Peeta belongs to the whole Hunger Games team. As for history—I think Hollywood writes new chapters every day. I'm just grateful to be part of one."
Safe. Polished. Enough.
They kept moving. Fans screamed his name from the barriers, some holding signs. He waved and the noise doubled.
Jennifer leaned in close, voice low. "Still weird hearing our ship name screamed in public?"
Cassius kept the smile on his face. "Honored to stand next to you."
Inside the theater, the air was cool and the seats were packed with every major name in Hollywood. Jennifer's seat was right beside his—studio placement. Anne Hathaway was already there in that dramatic black Chanel backless dress, drawing stares from every photographer in the house.
"See?" Jennifer muttered. "Told you."
Cassius didn't answer. He was watching the Warner table. Kevin Tsujihara caught his eye, gave a small nod, and went back to his conversation. The man looked like he'd swallowed something sour.
The ceremony started with Seth MacFarlane's opening monologue—sharp, filthy, and very Seth. He roasted a few bombs from the year, then spotted Cassius in the crowd.
"Cassius! Welcome to the big show, brother. By the way—was that driving in the Fast 6 trailer actually you, or did they finally spring for a real stunt guy?"
The camera cut to Cassius. He grinned and took the mic the production handed him. "All me. My insurance company watched the dailies and tripled my premium on the spot."
The theater roared with laughter.
Seth gave him a thumbs-up. "Respect. Next time buy the full coverage, man."
Awards rolled by. Art Direction went to Lincoln. Cinematography to Life of Pi. The technical categories kept the energy steady while the room waited for the big ones.
When Best Actress was announced, Jennifer's hand found Cassius's arm and squeezed. The nominees played—Jennifer's raw, unhinged widow from Silver Linings Playbook, Jessica Chastain in Zero Dark Thirty, Naomi Watts in The Impossible.
Jean Dujardin opened the envelope, milked the pause, then smiled.
"And the Oscar goes to… Jennifer Lawrence!"
The room exploded.
Jennifer froze for half a second, eyes wide, then slapped a hand over her mouth. The producer next to her pulled her into a hug while Cassius stood and gave her a quick pat on the back.
"Go get it."
She took a shaky breath, grabbed her skirt, and started toward the stage. Halfway up the steps her heel caught the hem of the gown.
"Oh!"
Jennifer pitched forward and went down hard on the stairs, catching herself with one hand.
The entire theater gasped.
Cassius moved before anyone else. He was already halfway out of his seat when she hit the steps. He reached her in three strides, crouched, and helped her up with both hands.
"You okay?"
Her face was flushed—half pain, half embarrassment. "I just ruined the moment—"
"No, you didn't," Cassius said quietly, steadying her. "The whole world just watched you get back up. That's the moment."
The crowd erupted into cheers and whistles. Someone in the back yelled, "Big sis! Brother-in-law! Nice save!"
Jennifer laughed through the tears, straightened her dress, and walked the rest of the way to the stage on her own. Cassius stepped back and let her have it.
Her speech was classic Jennifer—nervous, honest, a little unhinged. She thanked the usual people, then looked straight at Cassius in the audience.
"This is for everyone who feels like they don't belong. Even when you eat shit on live television, if someone's willing to pick you up, you can still stand here and hold this thing."
The camera found Cassius. He smiled and gave a small nod.
Twitter detonated.
#JenniferFalls #CassiusSave #OscarMoment
"Holy shit Cassius's reaction time was insane!"
"He sprinted up there like a damn superhero."
"Jennifer falling and Cassius catching her is the most 2013 thing that could've happened and I'm obsessed."
The ceremony rolled on. Daniel Day-Lewis won Best Actor for Lincoln—his third Oscar, and he accepted it like he'd just picked up dry cleaning.
Then came Best Supporting Actor.
Octavia Spencer walked onstage in a glittering gold gown, smiling wide. The nominee reel played—Waltz in Django Unchained, Hoffman in The Master, De Niro in Silver Linings, Tommy Lee Jones in Lincoln, and finally Cassius as Peeta in The Hunger Games.
Five seconds of quiet intensity. Peeta's exhausted, steady eyes staring at the camera.
The theater went still.
Octavia opened the envelope, read the name, and looked up with that huge, warm smile.
"And the Oscar goes to… Cassius Cass! The Hunger Games!"
The room detonated.
Cassius felt the world tilt for a second. Then Jennifer was screaming in his ear and the producer was yanking him into a hug.
"You did it, kid! You fucking did it!"
He stood on autopilot, heart hammering, and started down the aisle.
A gold orb flared bright in his vision.
[Achievement Unlocked: Oscar Best Supporting Actor]
[New Trait: Masterful Presence]
[Effect: You command any room with effortless authority. On camera, on stage, in negotiations—your presence becomes as natural and powerful as breathing. When your energy resonates with others, it slightly increases their trust and favor toward you.]
[Trendsetter Progress +10% — Current: 16%]
He passed the Warner table. Kevin Tsujihara stood and extended a hand.
"Congratulations. Well deserved."
The words were polite. The eyes were not.
Cassius shook it. "Thank you."
He kept walking.
The stairs felt longer than they should have. Every camera in the building was locked on him. The applause rolled like thunder.
He reached the stage, took the golden statue from Octavia, and stepped to the mic.
The weight of it in his hand was heavier than he expected.
Cassius looked out at the sea of faces—some smiling, some stunned, some already calculating what this meant for the future.
He took a slow breath.
And the words came.