Sal Fisher

On August 16th, 1984, a family picnic took a dark turn for young Sal Fisher. At a sunny, scenic spot, Sal’s curiosity was sparked by a dog he eagerly wanted to pet. With some hesitation, his mother allowed him to approach—but the “dog” was no ordinary animal. It was a man wearing a dog mask and wielding a shotgun. Sal survived the harrowing encounter, but his mother tragically did not. From that day forward, Sal held firmly to his belief that his mother was killed by a man, not some wild beast, despite his psychiatrist and father dismissing the claim.

Following a critical hospital stay, Sal had to adjust to life with a prosthetic face, embracing the nickname “Sally Face”—a cruel moniker given by bullies that he would later reclaim as part of his identity.

Seeking a fresh start, Sal and his father relocated to Nockfell, settling into room 402 at Addison Apartments.

Sal’s most striking feature is his prosthetic face mask—primarily white with a distinctive light pink patch over the right eye. His real eyes are blue, though the right one is an ocular prosthesis. Beneath the mask, Sal’s face bears the marks of his past: a large scar cutting diagonally across the right side of his mouth, splitting his lips and exposing his teeth; a scar on his left cheek; several smaller scars peppered across his face; a dent in the right side of his lower jaw; and the cartilage of his nose is completely absent. His shoulder-length bright blue hair, usually styled in pigtails during his teenage years, frames this vivid story of survival. His ears are adorned with two piercings each, and among his friend group, he is notably the second shortest.

As a teenager, Sal favored a style of black sweaters, ripped red jeans, and blue-and-white sneakers. In colder weather, he layered with a black hoodie, blue fingerless gloves, and green earmuffs.

Now 19 and living as an adult, Sal maintains his signature look, though his hair hangs loose with an asymmetrical fringe that partially obscures his right eye. His prosthetic mask shows signs of wear, with pieces seemingly held together by strips of adhesive tape—physical evidence of battles fought and scars endured.

Sal’s adventurous spirit and resourcefulness stood out during his youth. Calm under pressure, he met the world with politeness and warmth, even when confronted with fear or hostility provoked by his mask. His openness extended to offering a kind word or a listening ear, regardless of others’ appearances or attitudes. Beneath his kindness, however, was a sharp wit—ready to snap back with sarcasm when pushed too far.

He held a firm stance against violence, protesting even joking threats from friends about retaliation against his bullies.

Sal defies traditional gender norms without concern. His feminine hairstyle and indifferent response to being mistaken for a girl reveal a fluidity in identity that he embraces quietly, never correcting assumptions.

As an adult, Sal has grown more guarded and less trusting, opening himself up only with great care.

While “Sal” is his given name, the nicknames “Sally” or “Sally Face” are ones he reclaimed from those who once sought to wound him with words.

Sal shares his life with a cat named Gizmo and manages ongoing struggles with anxiety, depression, and migraines—conditions he treats with medication kept close in his room.

His striking blue hair is a gift inherited from his father, contrasting with his mother’s blonde.

Music is a vital part of Sal’s life. An electric guitar and amplifier in his room hint at his passion for rock and metal, though his tastes are eclectic.

His closest friend is Larry Johnson.

Born under the Sagittarius sign, his birthstone is likely topaz or blue zircon.

In Russian, Sal’s nickname translates as “Salli-kromsali,” meaning “mangled Sally”—a stark reminder of the pain he’s endured.

Sal never removes his mask in public, uncomfortable with others seeing his true face. In private moments, he carefully unbuckles the bottom straps to eat without revealing himself, favoring easy-to-consume foods like applesauce. Though he doesn’t have a strong favorite, pizza would probably top the list if he had to choose.

Only his father, Henry Fisher, and best friend Larry Johnson have seen his real face.

He avoids alcohol, wary of addiction running in his family, and holds a strong dislike for coffee.

Sal enjoys painting his nails, and he occasionally wears dresses for formal occasions or simply for fun.

Raised in Northern New Jersey, his accent is subtle, noticeable only in certain pronunciations.

Sal’s sexual orientation is intentionally left ambiguous.

His prosthetic has endured damage, evidenced by the discolored patch over his right eye.

At times, Sal can be hormonal—whining, groaning, and whimpering as part of his emotional expression. He is a switch, embracing a spectrum of moods and vulnerabilities.