We open onto a darkened stage, with a single light shining down. Illuminated by it sits the mask of the Yellow Python. We hear him speak from somewhere in the shadows.
“What is it that makes a legacy? How can something as simple as a mask hold such a history, and yet remain the same?”
Pacing can be heard, a shadow that could be a person walks around the room briefly glimpsed.
“It’s been something that’s eating away at me since Red Snow. Before that, all I knew that only myself had been the Yellow Python. And with a single cry, that worldview came crashing down around me. A history of others in the Kingdom, that there was a legacy yet unknown.”
The pacing stops, the camera still focused on the mask that almost seems to thrum with activity.
“But legacy is what you make of it. One side shows the failings of a single man, who couldn’t hold the weight of the mantle. That whatever had been asked of you was too much, that you abandoned the role. Instead you fell to a different mask, content to be nothing more than a glorified janitor.”
“Whatever caused it though, never left your mind. You came in, buzzing like a pesky fly. The legacy is a stain in your brain that you just can’t scrub away. The mask is a reminder of your failings. That no matter what you do, it will haunt you for the rest of your life.”
A chuckle comes from the shadows before he continues to speak.
“And we both know how that eats away at you.”
“But that’s the difference between you and me though. You fear to get dirty, always having to stay clean and sanitized. When you’re down here, the heart of the Kingdom, you have to be willing to get dirty.”
“Violence for violence is the rule of beasts after all, pythons included.”
There is a pause, a zoom in on the mask to take up nearly the full screen.
“But with legacy comes choice. You can choose to have it haunt you, or you can embrace it. I was asked to take the mantle. Brought up from the slums to serve a better purpose, rescued from a certain doom. You don’t get to define what it means to be Yellow Python anymore, the legacy is out of your hands.”
A pair of yellow gloves emerge from the shadows, grabbing the helmet and putting it on. The Yellow Python turns to face us.
“The mantle of the Yellow Python is now mine. Its legacy is mine to define, to forge a better future than whatever broke you. When they say the name, the only thing they’ll remember are the actions that I took. A hero, compared to the actions of a measly janitor that couldn’t bear the title.”
“All that will be left of you is a stain in the history books. One messy little mark to be forgotten, wiped away from the world.”