Cassius got what Rob was saying right away.
The FBI report pinned the whole mess on targeted hacking, not Apple's servers. That shut the door on blaming the tech giant and kept the focus on the criminals who broke in.
Rob suggested skipping the FBI press conference to avoid the media circus. Cassius didn't even hesitate. "I'm definitely not going."
He wasn't about to let reporters corner him with questions about who started what in those photos. That was a one-way ticket to career suicide.
He thought about how scandals like this played out back in his old life. The best move was always to let the fire burn itself out. Internet outrage moved fast and faded even faster. In a few weeks, this would just be another forgotten headline.
Twitter was already a war zone.
The FBI hadn't held the press conference yet, but the details had leaked, and the takes were flying. Some people blamed weak passwords. Others called it Apple's fault. A few tried to paint the victims as hypocrites for taking private photos in the first place.
Cassius watched the FBI briefing on CNN from his living room.
Lisa Moreno, the head of their cybercrime division, laid it out clean: this was organized hacking aimed at specific accounts, not a breach of Apple's systems. She shut down any victim-blaming hard. "A weak lock doesn't give someone the right to break in."
Right after the briefing, Cassius posted on Twitter.
"Illegal access to private accounts is a crime. The responsibility is 100% on the people who did it. Stop spreading rumors that Apple's servers were hacked. The photos of me and Jennifer Lawrence were taken by paparazzi—that's also a crime. My lawyers are handling it."
Kristen, Jennifer, Anne, and Kat all reposted it with messages backing him up.
More actresses joined in. The conversation started shifting from "Cassius is a player" to "victims don't owe anyone an explanation."
That night the FBI held another briefing. They'd already grabbed three middlemen in the U.S. who were selling and spreading the photos. They were working with Eastern European authorities on the core hacker group.
When a reporter asked about Warner executive Michael possibly being involved, the spokesperson confirmed he'd hired hackers to dig into Cassius before—but said they were still investigating any direct link to the photo leak.
Cassius called his lawyer right after.
If Michael was connected to the leak, he wanted him sued into the ground. The lawyer said they were already building the case and would move fast once they had solid evidence.
The next morning he met with Jennifer's legal team to sign the paperwork for the big joint lawsuit.
Over eighty victims were in so far. They were going after the hackers, the platforms that spread the photos, and anyone who might have pulled the strings. The ask was five hundred million.
Kevin called later with the news Cassius had been dreading.
Theaters weren't willing to bring The Ancient One back. Even with the FBI clearing him, the heat was still too high. Marvel's higher-ups had decided against forcing a re-release.
They wanted him to lay low for at least six months. No big studio movies. Indie films, theater, or teaching were fine. Just nothing that would keep the spotlight burning.
Cassius hung up and sat there for a long minute.
Part of him felt relieved. Three straight years of nonstop work had finally caught up with him. Six months to breathe, do smaller projects, and maybe chase an Oscar nomination actually sounded good.
The Ancient One closed out at 1.018 billion worldwide.
Third-highest for a Marvel solo origin film. Not the number they'd hoped for, but still a hell of a run. Cassius started his car and drove toward Beverly Hills, already thinking about what came next.