Once upon a time, deep within the roots of Arcadia, there existed a festival known as the Masquerade of Reflection. 

It was meant to be a night of freedom—a grand celebration where every soul, noble or peasant, rich or poor, hid behind masks. They danced and laughed, spoke boldly, believing that the mask granted them courage. They were convinced that it transformed them into something greater, something beyond their own flaws.

But the tragedy wasn’t in the revelry. It was in the dawn. Because when the sun rose and the masks were peeled away, nothing had changed. The beggars remained beggars. The liars remained liars. The fools remained fools. 

They clung to the illusion that the mask could elevate them beyond their own weaknesses. That the right disguise could erase their deficiencies. But a mask, you see, never transforms. It only conceals.

And that’s the tale you both, Destructo and Captain Arcadia, have been living your entire lives.

Destructo, you once wore the mask of a hero. You crafted it from the idea of purity and righteousness, convincing yourself that it made you noble. That the thin veneer of courage you built could hide the inadequacy you refused to face. But when reality ripped through your illusion—when your failure to protect and to save burned everything you claimed to stand for—you tore that mask away. 

But instead of confronting the truth, you simply replaced it. You’ve donned something darker, uglier. Wrapped yourself in anger and called it evolution. You pretend that your rage is strength, your hatred a shield. But these are only new disguises meant to hide the fact that you have never been enough.

Captain Arcadia, your mask gleams brighter. It’s gilded in honor, duty. Patriotism. You speak the words of a savior and dress yourself in the colors of a hero. But all of it is paint. Surface level gestures meant to hide the emptiness beneath.

You claim to stand for Arcadia’s protection. But where were you when the monsters tore it apart from the inside? Where was your righteousness when it failed to shield those you vowed to defend, especially now amidst this Civil War? You even had the chance to bring me down, and you couldn’t.

Because like Destructo, you’ve spent your entire life hiding behind masks to cover for your shortcomings. You’ve both mistaken symbols for substance, illusions for identity. While all you’ve built is an imitation, a shallow mockery of true strength.

But you see, the Masquerade of Reflection always ends. The masks always fall away. And when the decorations are stripped, when the illusions are torn apart, what will remain?

Just two men who were never worthy of the titles they pretended to claim.

Because strength isn’t built on lies. Real heroism isn’t born from pretense. And when your masks finally crumble—when the truth is laid bare for all to see—you’ll realize that the identities you built were nothing but hollow fabrications.

When the dawn breaks, Destructo and Captain Arcadia, the world will see you for what you truly are.

Two failures, desperately clinging to empty masks.