From the advertisements around Arcadia to the imagery in a story, they dot the world around us. With them they can speak a thousand words while being only an image, an item. Born to be more than just what they are at the surface level.
Everyone needs a symbol.
Take the hatchet for example. The sharp metal head, the cutting edge, the handle. Part by part, it means nothing really. Just scraps of material. Together though, they represent a tool of destruction. A symbol of breaking things, only useful to split things apart.
On the reverse is the shield. A symbol of defense, protection. Able to take blows that would otherwise kill a man and get back up. It is the line that we hold, the weight of everything we hold together to protect us from a harsh and desolate world out to get us.
It didn’t surprise me that you took the shield. For you, that shield in your eyes is the symbol of what I am, who I’ve become. And that is someone that’s standing in your way. Someone who’s not afraid of standing in your way.
So you send your punks, have them gang up and steal it so that you can take and break the symbol. But you know what that shows?
You’re a tool, just like your name.
There wasn’t a motivation for you to kidnap Blaze and Destructo Boy that’d make a lick of sense. No, we both know the truth there. You were paid, given a target, and swung in a direction to eliminate them. They were just loose strings, and that promise of bloodshed and credit was enough for you to be swung without mercy.
But then you didn’t. For no hatchet can ever truly damage a shield.
Each time you thought you had the advantage, I was there. When you were ready to kill the two, I swooped in and saved them. When I challenged your goons and lost, I left with a smile. Even I called you out in front of the whole crowd, and out you marched. It’s not hard to figure out what you want, how to push your buttons.
With each one, your handle breaks a bit more on the situation.
Because it’s not just about a shield stolen. You were paid to do harm to good people, you try to challenge Arcadia and her people, put them under your chaotic thumb. But it’s not about the physical shield.
Never has been.
For each time I stand in that ring, and I keep going, I am the shield. I am the line in the sand that keeps the people safe, who will take the beatings, get back up, and ask for more. Captain Arcadia is more than just a name, or a costume. It is the voice of the people, standing up for themselves and facing it all head first.
I am a symbol made manifest.
And there hasn’t been a hatchet that can truly break a shield.