The next few weeks in the dream instance settled into a strange rhythm for Cassius.
By day he was Phil Brock—a single dad working part-time at the hardware store, picking Maddie up from school, showing up at school events, and occasionally grabbing coffee with other parents.
He played it so normal that even Sheriff Keith dropped his suspicions completely.
Twice the patrol car passed by and Keith actually waved.
Cassius started teaching Maddie a few things on purpose.
It began with small, everyday stuff.
One Saturday afternoon they were fixing the fence in the yard.
Maddie was handing him tools when Cassius asked, "You know how to hold a hammer?"
"Isn't it just grab it and swing?"
Maddie gave him that "why are you even asking" look.
Cassius took the hammer and demonstrated. "Not quite. Fingers like this, wrist like this—see? You use your body weight instead of just arm strength. Saves energy and you won't hurt yourself."
He showed her the proper grip and how to swing with momentum.
Maddie picked it up fast. After a few tries she looked pretty good.
"Dad, where'd you learn all this?" she asked.
"Used to have to fix things a lot at my old job."
That was just the beginning.
They went to the supermarket. In the parking lot, Cassius casually dropped some common sense. "If you're ever alone here and someone approaches from behind, what would you do?"
Maddie thought for a second. "Run?"
"Running's good," Cassius nodded. "But how? Which way?"
He led her to a more open part of the lot and started demonstrating. "If someone comes at you from this side, don't run toward the empty spaces. Head toward people—like the store entrance. And when you run, yell 'Fire!' Not scream—yell the word. It gets more attention."
Maddie thought it was fun and tried it a few times.
Her voice started small. Cassius encouraged her. "Louder! Imagine you actually see fire!"
"Fire!"
Maddie finally shouted it out loud.
An older lady pushing a cart nearby jumped and looked around.
Cassius quickly explained, "Sorry, we're just playing a game."
The lady shook her head and walked off.
Maddie stuck out her tongue. "So embarrassing!"
"But it works," Cassius said seriously, looking her in the eyes. "Remember—safety matters more than looking cool."
These lessons were scattered.
Cassius didn't dump too much on her at once. He didn't want to scare her or make her suspicious.
He just slipped in basic safety awareness and self-defense tips during everyday moments.
[Father-daughter teaching interaction – Attribute orb: Parental Bond +4 (Purple)]
[Protective guidance – Attribute orb: Fatherly Responsibility +3 (Blue)]
[Daily skill instruction – Attribute orb: Teaching Style +3 (Blue)]
Cassius absorbed them while thinking.
Before entering this instance, he hadn't fully understood why Brock taught his daughter fighting skills in the movie.
But living it now, he got it on a deeper level.
It wasn't just teaching her to fight.
It was a father knowing he might not always be there to protect her, so he had to give her the tools to protect herself.
It was knowing the world had dangers but not wanting his daughter to live in fear, so he gave her confidence through skills.
It was hoping that even if he was gone, she could still live a good life.
One night Maddie was watching cartoons in the living room while Cassius flipped through a magazine nearby.
During a fight scene where the hero did a flashy shoulder throw, Maddie suddenly asked, "Dad, can you do that?"
"Do what?"
"The throw-the-guy-over-your-shoulder thing."
Cassius thought for a second. "A little. You want to learn?"
"Can I?"
"If you're serious about it."
Cassius turned off the TV and rolled up part of the living room rug to expose the hardwood floor.
He started with some simple warm-up moves, then demonstrated a basic self-defense technique.
"Don't just yank hard," he said, letting Maddie grab his wrist. "The wrist joint works like this—you twist in this direction and the other person feels pain and lets go. Here, try."
Maddie tried several times. At first she wasn't getting it and Cassius easily countered her every time.
But she was determined and kept adjusting her angle and pressure.
"Wrong angle. Use leverage, not brute force," Cassius corrected. "Imagine your hand is a fish slipping out of a net."
"A fish?" Maddie wrinkled her nose. "How does a fish slip?"
"Like this—"
Cassius demonstrated again, this time slowing it down so she could see every detail.
After about twenty minutes, Maddie finally succeeded once.
She broke free of Cassius's grip, though the movement was still a little clumsy.
"I did it!"
She jumped up excitedly.
"Good job," Cassius said, patting her head. "But remember—this only works on regular people, and it's better for escaping than fighting. If the other person is much bigger and stronger, run first."
"Got it, Dad. What did you actually do for work before? How do you know all this?"
Maddie stared at him curiously.
Here we go again.
Cassius had his answer ready. "I used to work at a security company. I trained guards, so I picked up some basics."
"Cool!" Maddie's eyes lit up. "What else can you teach me?"
"One thing at a time," Cassius said. "And hopefully you'll never need any of it."
But deep down he knew—in this instance, he probably would.
Because according to the movie plot, conflict was coming.
Thursday morning, Cassius dropped Maddie off at school like usual.
The weather was nice. Sunlight filtered through the clouds over the quiet town streets.
"Dad, what's for dinner tonight?" Maddie asked from the passenger seat, fiddling with a rainbow bracelet Lisa had given her at the market last week.
Since Cassius had started blending into town life, Maddie's world had gotten a lot brighter. She'd made a few friends.
"What do you want?"
"Spaghetti! The kind with lots of cheese."
"Alright. Spaghetti it is."
"Yay!"
At the school gate, Maddie hopped out, ran a few steps, then turned back. "Dad, don't forget to give my stuffed animal a bath! It fell on the floor yesterday and got dirty."
"Got it. Have a good day at school."
Cassius waved.
He drove home, stopping at the supermarket on the way for ingredients.
Back home he cleaned, did laundry, then started prepping dinner. The meat sauce needed time to simmer.
At three in the afternoon he went to pick up Maddie.
When they got home she dropped her backpack and ran upstairs. Cassius stayed in the kitchen, continuing to cook as the smell of sauce filled the house.
Twenty minutes later Maddie came back down. Her eyes were a little red.
"What's wrong, Maddie?"
Cassius put down the spoon.
"My stuffed animal's gone."
Maddie's voice was shaky.
Cassius's stomach dropped.
The stuffed animal was missing.
That detail triggered Brock's memories.
Not the movie memories Cassius had watched as an actor—the real memories from living as Brock.
In the original story, the destruction of the stuffed animal marked the escalation of the threat. It meant the other side had stopped testing and moved to open intimidation.
"Maybe it's somewhere in the house. I'll help you look."
Cassius kept his voice calm.
They searched the whole house—Maddie's room, the living room, kitchen, even the bathroom.
Nothing.
"Could it be outside? I was playing in the yard after school yesterday."
Cassius went out to the backyard.
It was small—just a patch of grass, a few oak trees, and an old swing set.
He looked around carefully and finally spotted it hanging from a low branch of one of the oaks.
The stuffed bunny was dangling by a thin string, its head cut off. Cotton stuffing spilled out from the ragged neck. The body was filthy, like someone had stomped on it.
Cassius stood there staring at the ruined toy, a cold chill running up his spine.
This wasn't a prank.
It was a warning.
"Dad, did you find it?"
Maddie's voice came from the back door.
"No."
Cassius turned around quickly, blocking her view. "It might've blown away or been taken by a cat. Let's go inside."
He guided Maddie back into the house and shut the door.
"But the bunny—"
Maddie looked like she was about to cry.
"Tomorrow I'll take you to buy a new one. Even better."
"I don't want a new one! That was from Mom!"
Cassius crouched down and looked her in the eyes. "Maddie, listen to me. The bunny might really be gone, but Mom's love for you isn't. She'd want you to be happy, not upset over a toy."
Maddie sniffled but didn't argue.
At dinner she barely ate.
Cassius didn't have much appetite either, but he forced himself to eat.
He needed strength. He needed to stay sharp.
After dinner, while Maddie was washing dishes, she suddenly said, "Dad, Ms. Susan asked me today if I was free this weekend."
"Ms. Susan? Your school counselor?"
"She said she has a really pretty garden at home and wanted to invite me over. She even said she could teach me how to plant flowers."
Ms. Susan.
The middle school counselor.
In the original movie she didn't have much screen time.
But right now a thought flashed through Cassius's mind.
If he followed the original plot, what would happen next?
Gator's men would break into the house, try to kill Brock, fail, then kidnap Maddie as leverage.
Brock would fight his way through to rescue her.
Cassius could copy that story.
He had Brock's skills now. He had guns. He was confident he could win.
But that meant putting Maddie through the trauma of being kidnapped. She could even get hurt.
He didn't want that.
"Do you want to go?"
Cassius asked Maddie.
"A little. Ms. Susan is really nice, and her garden looks beautiful in the pictures."
Cassius thought for a moment. "How about this—I'll call Ms. Susan tomorrow. If you really want to go, you can spend the day at her house this weekend."
"Really?"
Maddie's eyes lit up.
"Yeah. But—it might turn into an overnight thing if it gets late."
"Overnight?" Maddie got even more excited. "Like a sleepover?"
"Something like that."
Maddie cheered up, momentarily forgetting about the bunny.
She started planning what to bring—pajamas, toothbrush, her favorite book—
Cassius watched her, his mind racing through plans.
Friday morning Cassius dropped Maddie off at school as usual, then went home.
He skipped work at the hardware store and called Tom to say he wasn't feeling well and needed the day off.
Then he took care of a few things.
He called Ms. Susan.
She agreed right away and said she really liked Maddie and didn't have any plans for the weekend.
Cassius let out a breath of relief.
He checked the house's defenses.
The door and window locks were decent, but not enough.
He pulled some of Brock's hidden alarm devices down from the attic—simple infrared sensors that connected to his phone. If anyone broke in, it would alert him.
He installed them on the front and back doors and all the first-floor windows.
Then he packed an emergency bag.
Two changes of clothes, some cash, a backup phone, power bank, water, and energy bars.
He put the bag in the trunk of his car, ready to go at any moment.
That afternoon when he picked up Maddie, he made a deliberate detour and stopped at the gas station on Main Street.
He filled the tank, then walked into the little convenience store attached to it.
Besides the cashier, there was one other person inside.
Cassius recognized him—one of Gator's men, the short, stocky one. He was buying cigarettes.
Cassius pretended not to notice him and casually bought a bottle of water. While paying, he "accidentally" dropped his wallet, scattering its contents.
He crouched down to pick everything up, making his movements look a little flustered.
The guy glanced at him but didn't say anything.
Cassius stood up and told the cashier, "By the way, I won't be in town this weekend. If any packages come or someone stops by looking for me, just say I took my daughter to visit relatives."
His voice wasn't loud, but loud enough for the guy nearby to hear.
"Where you headed?" the cashier asked casually.
"Baton Rouge, to my sister's place. Maddie's been missing her cousin."
"Sounds good. Have fun."
When Cassius left, he saw in the rearview mirror that the guy was already on his phone.
That evening Cassius helped Maddie pack her overnight bag.
The little girl was excited, stuffing her favorite clothes and books into her small backpack.
"Dad, are you really not coming?" Maddie asked.
"I've got a few things to take care of. I'll pick you up on Sunday. Be good at Ms. Susan's, okay?"
"I will."
Saturday morning at ten, Cassius drove Maddie to Ms. Susan's house.
Ms. Susan lived on the other side of town in a white single-family home with a big yard full of flowers.
"Wow," Maddie said as she got out of the car. "It's even prettier than the pictures."
Ms. Susan came out to greet them. She was in her fifties, wore glasses, and had a warm smile.
She chatted briefly with Cassius, confirmed contact info, then took Maddie's hand and led her inside.
Cassius stood at the door, watching Maddie turn back to wave before disappearing inside.
He got back in the car but didn't drive off right away.
He sat in the driver's seat, staring at the house, running calculations in his head.
Maddie was safe now.
Ms. Susan's house was far from Main Street, surrounded by retired neighbors. It was quiet.
Gator's people wouldn't know she was there. Even if they did, they had no reason to go after a middle school counselor.
Now it was his turn.
Cassius drove home.
On the way he noticed the familiar black Chevy following him again, keeping its distance.
Once home, he didn't go inside right away.
He parked the car in a visible spot in the yard, walked to the front door, and pretended to have a loud phone conversation.
The phone wasn't actually connected.
"Yeah, I'm already on the way—should be there in about two hours—Maddie's asleep in the car—"
He was putting on a show for anyone who might be listening.
Then he went inside and shut the door.
He didn't turn on any lights, making the house look empty.
He checked his phone.
The app connected to the door and window alarms showed everything was normal.
Then he went up to the attic and retrieved all of Brock's hidden gear from the secret compartment.
Two handguns, four magazines, a shotgun, a tactical knife, a stab vest, night vision goggles, and a comms earpiece.
He put on the vest, holstered the handguns at his waist, strapped the knife to his calf.
Then he sat by the window in the second-floor bedroom, peering through the blinds at the street outside.
Everything was quiet.
It was Saturday afternoon. A lot of people were at the market or out running errands.
Cassius waited.
If they were going to make a move, it would probably be today.
A system prompt suddenly appeared in front of him:
[Active Plot Line Alteration]
[Risk Avoidance Decision]
[Protective Father-Daughter Separation – Attribute orb: Responsibility Choice +4 (Purple)]
Cassius sat by the bedroom window for about forty minutes.
The street outside stayed quiet. Too quiet.
Brock's instincts were warning him.
This was the calm before the storm.
His phone vibrated once.
It was one of his simple monitoring setups.
He'd hidden a tiny camera on a telephone pole at the corner of the street. It fed live footage to his phone.
On the screen, a black van turned onto his street from Main and parked about a hundred yards away.
Four men got out, all dressed in dark clothes, carrying what looked like long guns from this distance.
Cassius counted. Four.
Plus anyone still in the van—at least five.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket and checked his gear one last time.
Two handguns—Glock 19s, 9mm, two spare magazines each.
Shotgun loaded.
Tactical knife strapped to his right calf.
Stab vest already on. It wouldn't stop bullets, but it would handle knives and blunt force.
From downstairs came a faint sound.
Not from the front or back door.
From the basement.
Cassius frowned. He remembered the basement windows had iron bars. They shouldn't be able to get in.
Unless they'd cut the bars.
Brock's memories surfaced.
Professional move.
Don't attack head-on. Come in from the least expected place to throw off the defender's timing.
Cassius quietly moved to the top of the stairs and crouched, listening.
Footsteps. Light, but more than one person.
At least two.
He slowly backed into the bedroom and closed the door—but didn't lock it.
Locking it would tell them exactly where he was.
He positioned himself beside the closet, at an angle where he could see the door without standing directly in the line of fire.
Waiting.
The footsteps downstairs moved through the first floor. Slow. Careful.
They were searching.
Cassius could hear drawers opening, cabinets being checked.
Then the footsteps started up the stairs.
Cassius held his breath.
The first man appeared at the top of the stairs.
Cassius got a clear look—ski mask, shotgun in hand.
Classic breaching weapon.
The man swept the second-floor hallway, gun following his gaze.
He gave a hand signal. A second man came up behind him, pistol drawn.
They started clearing rooms.
The first room was Maddie's—door open, empty.
The second was the study—also empty.
Then they moved toward the bedroom.
The door creaked open slowly.
Cassius, from his spot beside the closet, watched the gap widen.
The first man entered sideways, gun sweeping the bed, under the curtains, then the front of the closet.
Just as his gaze started turning toward the side of the closet, Cassius moved.
He kicked the inside of the closet.
The sound was small, but in the quiet room it was loud.
The man spun instantly, gun swinging toward the closet.
His partner followed him in, both of them focused on the closet.
Cassius stepped out from the side and fired twice.
Bang! Bang!
The shots were deafening in the enclosed space.
The first man took a round to the chest. The vest absorbed some of it, but the impact made him stumble backward.
The second man reacted fast, immediately firing back at Cassius.
Cassius had already moved.
He rolled to the other side of the bed as bullets tore through the mattress, sending cotton flying.
[Street Vehicle Offense & Defense Instinct] activated automatically.
He knew in a tight space the key was movement—never stay still.
The second man kept firing. Cassius rolled out from the foot of the bed and, mid-roll, aimed and shot.
One round hit the man's thigh.
He screamed and went down.
The first man, who'd been hit earlier, had recovered enough to raise his shotgun.
Cassius didn't give him the chance.
He grabbed the lamp from the nightstand and threw it—not to hit, but to distract.
As the lamp flew, Cassius rushed in from the other side and slammed the butt of his pistol into the man's jaw.
Bone cracked.
The man collapsed.
Cassius picked up the shotgun and checked it.
Five-round tube, already loaded.
He moved to the window and lifted the blinds slightly.
Outside, three more men stood by the van.
They'd heard the gunfire and were scanning the area, rifles up.
Cassius didn't take the stairs.
Those two inside might still be able to move.
He opened the bedroom window. Outside was the second-floor roof overhang.
About twelve feet down.
He climbed out, dropped onto the overhang, then jumped to the grass in the yard, rolling to absorb the impact.
The three men by the van spotted him and opened fire.
Rat-tat-tat-tat!
Automatic rifle fire was much louder than handgun shots. Bullets kicked up dirt all around him.
Cassius dove behind the corner of the house, breathing hard.
Three on one, all with rifles. Straight-up fight was suicide.
He glanced at the shotgun in his hands, then at the surroundings.
Small yard. A tree. An old swing set. Some leftover construction materials—wood planks, a bucket of paint.
[Street Vehicle Offense & Defense Instinct] fed him options: Use the environment. Split them up. Take them one by one.
Cassius peeked around the corner and fired two shotgun blasts—not at the men, but at the van's windshield.
Boom! Boom!
Glass exploded, shards flying everywhere.
The three men instinctively ducked.
Now.
Cassius sprinted out, moving in a zigzag while firing.
Shotgun spread didn't need perfect aim—it just needed to suppress.
He made it to the oak tree—the same one the bunny had been hanging from.
Bullets slammed into the trunk, sending wood chips flying.
The three men spread out.
One circling from the left, one from the right, one laying down suppressive fire from the front.
Cassius watched from behind the tree.
The one on the left was closest—about fifty feet.
He waited for the man to reload, then stepped out and fired two quick handgun shots.
One missed. The second hit the shoulder.
The man went down.
The guy on the right had already circled around, rifle trained on Cassius.
Cassius didn't retreat—he charged.
In the split second before the man pulled the trigger, Cassius swung the shotgun like a club and smashed it into his wrist.
The rifle flew from his hands.
Cassius closed the distance, drove a knee into his gut, then elbowed him in the back of the neck.
The man dropped.
One left.
The last guy in front was panicking now, firing without rhythm, wild shots.
Cassius picked up the fallen rifle.
M4 carbine. He'd used one during training.
He stayed behind the tree, took a deep breath, then leaned out and fired three controlled bursts.
Rat-tat-tat!
The last man went down, rounds hitting his vest but the impact knocking him out of the fight.
The shooting stopped.
Cassius caught his breath and scanned the area.
All five were down, but he wasn't sure if there were more.
He walked over to the van and looked inside.
Driver's seat empty, but the keys were still in the ignition.
In the back were a few boxes. He opened one.
White powder in plastic bags. Cash.
Gator's product.
Looked like today was a delivery day. These guys had come to drop off or pick up and decided to deal with him while they were at it.
In the distance he heard sirens.
Cassius looked up and saw a silver Cadillac speeding down the street from the corner. It didn't come close—it stopped about two hundred yards away.
The window rolled down. Cassius could see the man inside.
Jeb Gator himself.
Bald. Sunglasses. Phone to his ear.
Then the Cadillac turned around and sped off.
"Running?" Cassius muttered.
He jumped into the van's driver's seat and started the engine.
The vehicle was old but still ran.
He shifted into gear, floored it, and the van roared forward.
[Street Vehicle Offense & Defense Instinct] fully activated.
Cassius's mind automatically calculated.
The van was heavy and slow to accelerate, but it sat high with good visibility.
The Cadillac was lighter and quicker, but on these small-town streets the advantage wasn't huge.
The two vehicles tore out of the residential area and onto Main Street.
It was Saturday afternoon—people and cars everywhere. Gator's car had to slow down.
Cassius saw his opening. He yanked the wheel, jumped the curb, and blasted past an outdoor café seating area, sending people screaming.
He took a shortcut.
Through a narrow alley, then out the other side—right in front of the Cadillac.
Gator slammed on the brakes, then threw it in reverse, trying to turn around.
Cassius didn't give him the chance.
He rammed the van straight into the Cadillac.
Crunch!
The impact wasn't devastating, but it was enough to send the Cadillac spinning out of control. It slid sideways and slammed into a fire hydrant.
Water shot into the air.
Gator climbed out, pistol in hand, firing at the van.
Bullets pinged off the metal.
Cassius stayed low, waited for Gator to reload, then kicked the door open, rolled out, and took cover behind another parked car.
The two men faced off across twenty feet of street.
Everyone on the block had scattered. Shops were locking their doors.
"Brock! You know who I am?"
"Yeah. A dead man."
Gator laughed. "You think you won? I've got twenty guys in this town! The cops work for me! You and your daughter aren't going anywhere!"
Cassius didn't answer.
He scanned the environment.
Stores on both sides. Second-floor windows. Roof access.
Gator stood in the spray from the broken hydrant, exposed.
Cassius moved along the side, using parked cars for cover, slowly closing the distance.
Gator kept firing, but his hands were shaking. His aim was terrible.
When the gap was down to thirty feet, Cassius stepped out from behind a pickup and fired.
Not at Gator—at the ground near his feet.
Concrete exploded. Shrapnel hit Gator's shin.
He screamed and dropped to one knee.
Cassius charged, kicked the pistol from his hand as he tried to raise it, then pressed the rifle barrel to his head.
"It's over," Cassius said.
Gator stared at him, then suddenly smiled. "Your daughter—Maddie, right? She's at Ms. Susan's house. You really think I didn't know?"
Cassius's stomach tightened, but his face stayed blank. "Try me."
"My guys are already there. Probably just arrived. You really think some middle school teacher can protect her?"
Gator's grin was ugly.
Cassius stared at him, trying to read if it was a bluff.
A prompt flashed:
[Critical Choice Detected]
But this time there was no suggestion. Just one line:
[Make your decision based on character logic]
Cassius made his choice.
He pulled the trigger.
The gun didn't fire.
He flipped it around and slammed the butt into Gator's temple.
The man went limp.
Cassius pulled out his phone and called Ms. Susan.
It rang three times before she answered.
"Hello?"
"Ms. Susan, it's Phil. How's Maddie?"
"She's great! Helping me plant flowers. Why? Is everything okay?"
"Nothing's wrong. I just miss her. Can I talk to her?"
A few seconds later Maddie's voice came through.
"Dad! Ms. Susan's garden is so pretty! We're planting sunflowers!"
"That's good, sweetheart. Have fun. I'll pick you up later."
Cassius let out a long breath.
"Okay!"
He hung up and looked down at the unconscious Gator.
Sirens were getting closer in the distance.
The gunfire had finally brought the police.
But they weren't coming to help him.
Sheriff Keith worked for Gator.
Cassius slipped his phone into Gator's pocket, stood up, and watched the approaching patrol cars.
Time to go.
He got back in the van, started the engine, and took a different route out of town.
The police cars roared past his old position without chasing him.
Once he was outside town, Cassius pulled the van over beside a patch of woods, got out, and walked into the trees.
He found a rock and sat down, staring back toward town.
A system prompt appeared:
[The Home Front main storyline complete]
[Plot altered: Daughter not kidnapped]
[Overall performance rating: A]
[Character immersion: 72%]
[Dream instance ending—]
Cassius sat on the edge of the bathtub, letting the hot water run over him.
The temperature was high.
Steam filled the entire bathroom.
He just sat there, not moving.
Waking up from the Home Front dream instance felt even more intense than after Interstellar.
When he'd stepped out of the bedroom earlier, his body had automatically moved in a tactical pattern.
Hugging the wall. Checking both ends of the hallway before heading to the bathroom.
That wasn't Cassius's habit.
That was Brock's.
And his hands.
He looked down at them—knuckles defined, palms lightly calloused.
They were still his hands, but the muscle memory felt completely real.
Right then, a series of attribute orbs dropped from him:
[Deep Understanding of Fatherly Bond +136] (Silver)
[Operative Combat Reflexes +3] (Blue)
[Crisis Decision Instinct +4] (Purple)
[Single Dad Daily Life +7] (Purple)
[Protective Fatherly Love +6] (Purple)
[Street Environment Utilization +3] (Blue)
[Emotional Suppression and Release +4] (Purple)
Cassius absorbed them all.
He could feel the changes.
He truly understood now—what a father would do to protect his child.
[Character Conviction +18 (Current: 80/100)]
[Cultural Influence +5 (Current: 5/200)]
[Acting Realm Progress +10% — Current: Reputation-Building 27.8%]
[New Passive Skill: Fatherly Guardian (Beginner)]
[Effect: When performing scenes involving protecting children or family, emotional impact automatically increases by 30%, body language becomes more authentic]
Cassius stared at the rewards and took a deep breath.
Two million dollars. Six hours of sleep.
All of it turned into real, tangible growth.
Especially that passive skill—Fatherly Guardian. It was practically made for Cooper in Interstellar.
Cassius turned off the panel and kept showering.
The hot water slowly helped him relax. Brock's memories and instincts began to settle, no longer dominating his thoughts as strongly.
When he stepped out of the bathroom, he'd mostly switched back to Cassius mode.
Only a trace remained in his eyes.
As he was drying his hair, his phone rang.
It was Rob.
"Cassius, you up? Got some good news!"
Rob sounded excited.
"What good news?"
Cassius rubbed the towel over his head.
"They cast the female lead for Interstellar!"
Cassius paused. "Who?"
"Anne Hathaway!"
Cassius blinked.