There was a guy in my platoon who fancied himself a hero.

First one into the fray. Last one out. Always had a grin under the grime like he knew something the rest of us didn’t.

Then one day, he lost his helmet. Just slipped off in the chaos. Said it was no big deal. Said a hero doesn’t hide his face.

Then he lost his rifle. Said a hero doesn’t need one. Said his fists were enough.

Then he lost his boots. Said a hero doesn’t mind the mud. Said it makes him one with the ground he’s fighting for.

By the time he lost his life, there wasn’t anything left to lose.

Just a body cooling in the muck, staring up at a sky that didn’t care what his story was supposed to be.

Captain Arcadia, you’re the same kind of guy.

All bright eyes and noble speeches, thinking the title “Hero of the People” means you get to decide how the story goes. You think the people you fight for will remember the way you bled for them.

They won’t.

They’ll step over you to get where they’re going, and all that’ll be left is a name they carve into a stone and forget by the next war.

You hide behind that shield of yours like it’s enough to keep the shrapnel out.

But I’ve seen heroes stripped down to nothing.

Piece by piece.

So let me help you along.

First, I’ll take the helmet.

Not the one on your head: the one you wear in your mind. The illusion that you’re untouchable. The moment you realize you’re not who you thought you were, the cracks start showing.

Then I’ll take the rifle.

For you, that’s the fight. The confidence in every punch you throw. I’ll shatter it, make you miss when you’re sure you’ve got me dead to rights.

Then I’ll take your boots.

That’s your footing, your moral high ground, your ability to stand your ground. I’ll sweep it out from under you until you’re knee-deep in the kind of mud you can’t wade through.

And when I’ve taken all of that?

You’ll be lying there, stripped of everything you thought made you a hero.

You’ll be just another body in the mud, staring up at a ceiling that doesn’t care what your story was supposed to be.

I’m not here to test your resolve, Cap. I’m here to ruin it.

I’m not here to push you to your limits. I’m here to erase them.

You think you’re fighting for something bigger than yourself, but all I see is a man setting himself up for the same fall I’ve watched a hundred times before.

You talk about protecting the people. But the truth is, heroes don’t protect, they absorb the damage until there’s nothing left of them.

And I’m going to make sure you absorb every ounce I’ve got.

When we step into that ring, I’m not giving you a villain to overcome. I’m giving you the war you won’t survive.

And when it’s over, you won’t walk out holding your head high.

You won’t walk out at all.