People never agree on what it looks like.
They only agree that it was watching them.”
Material:
Porcelain composite over a reinforced polymer core
Smooth, cold, slightly reflective in low light
Cracks spider through it like aged china
It looks like it was taken from a statue.
Or a museum.
Or a grave.
This is not a full-face mask.
It is a half-mask, covering:
Forehead
Eyes
Upper nose bridge
Cheekbones
It stops just before the mouth.
So people still see his lips.
That is intentional.
That is cruel.
It lets them see him breathe.
Smile.
Speak.
While the rest of his face is dead.
The mask has no expression at all.
No frown.
No smile.
No anger.
No menace.
Just… neutral.
Like a mannequin.
Like a doll.
Like a funeral statue.
This is important psychologically:
Humans read emotion in faces.
The absence of it is deeply disturbing.
People project onto it.
They see what they fear.
The eye hollows are slightly too deep.
Not skull-like.
But… not normal.
The edges are soft, rounded — almost gentle.
In low light, his eyes sit back in shadow, so you see:
White porcelain
Dark void
Green glint
It gives the impression the mask is empty…
…and something else is looking out.
The mask is not pristine.
It is fractured.
Not shattered.
Not broken.
Cracked.
A hairline fracture runs from the left temple, diagonally across the forehead, ending above the right eye.
Another runs down the bridge of the nose, stopping before the mouth line.
Fine spiderweb cracks radiate from the cheekbones.
These are not random.
They happened during:
A struggle
A blow
A moment where he almost died
He never fixed them.
He sealed them so they wouldn’t worsen.
But he left them visible.
Because:
“Broken things are more honest.”
On the right cheekbone, etched faintly into the porcelain, is a symbol:
Not cute.
Not cartoon.
A minimalist spiral — tight, clean, almost surgical.
You don’t notice it at first.
But once you do…
…you can’t unsee it.
It looks like:
A fingerprint
A target
A hypnotic mark
In-universe, people start calling it:
“The Mark”
Some think it’s a gang sign.
Some think it’s a cult symbol.
Some think it’s a warning.
They’re all wrong.
It’s his signature.
The interior is lined with:
Dark fabric
Sweat-worn
Stained in places
On the inside, written in thin, precise handwriting, are phrases.
Not quotes.
Not mottos.
Names.
Dozens of them.
Some crossed out.
Some circled.
Some underlined.
This is his ledger.
The mask is not just a face.
It is a record.
No thick tactical harness.
Instead:
Thin black straps
Almost delicate
High tension
Clean lines
It sits perfectly flush to his face.
No wobble.
No shift.
Like it belongs there.
Like it was grown.
This is the part that makes people remember him.
Because while the mask is blank…
His mouth is not.
They see:
Calm speech
Polite tone
Soft breath
Sometimes… a faint smile
It creates a split image in the brain:
Dead face above.
Living mouth below.
It is profoundly uncomfortable.
People describe it as:
“It was like two people were in the same body.”
Julius does not wear the mask to hide.
He wears it to become.
The mask is:
The moment he stopped being a man
The moment he became a function
The moment he chose the hunt over the life
When it goes on:
He does not improvise
He does not hesitate
He does not negotiate
The mask is not intimidation.
It is permission.
You get lines like:
“He had this white face… like a statue.”
“No eyes. Just holes.”
“There was a symbol. Like a spiral.”
“He offered me a mint while wearing it.”
“He said ‘I’m sorry’ and then…”
silence
Some believe:
The mask means you’re already dead.
The mask means you were judged.
The mask means you did something unforgivable.
Julius never corrects them.THE PEPPERMINT MASK
People never agree on what it looks like.
They only agree that it was watching them.”
Material:
Porcelain composite over a reinforced polymer core
Smooth, cold, slightly reflective in low light
Cracks spider through it like aged china
It looks like it was taken from a statue.
Or a museum.
Or a grave.
This is not a full-face mask.
It is a half-mask, covering:
Forehead
Eyes
Upper nose bridge
Cheekbones
It stops just before the mouth.
So people still see his lips.
That is intentional.
That is cruel.
It lets them see him breathe.
Smile.
Speak.
While the rest of his face is dead.
The mask has no expression at all.
No frown.
No smile.
No anger.
No menace.
Just… neutral.
Like a mannequin.
Like a doll.
Like a funeral statue.
This is important psychologically:
Humans read emotion in faces.
The absence of it is deeply disturbing.
People project onto it.
They see what they fear.
The eye hollows are slightly too deep.
Not skull-like.
But… not normal.
The edges are soft, rounded — almost gentle.
In low light, his eyes sit back in shadow, so you see:
White porcelain
Dark void
Green glint
It gives the impression the mask is empty…
…and something else is looking out.
The mask is not pristine.
It is fractured.
Not shattered.
Not broken.
Cracked.
A hairline fracture runs from the left temple, diagonally across the forehead, ending above the right eye.
Another runs down the bridge of the nose, stopping before the mouth line.
Fine spiderweb cracks radiate from the cheekbones.
These are not random.
They happened during:
A struggle
A blow
A moment where he almost died
He never fixed them.
He sealed them so they wouldn’t worsen.
But he left them visible.
Because:
“Broken things are more honest.”
On the right cheekbone, etched faintly into the porcelain, is a symbol:
Not cute.
Not cartoon.
A minimalist spiral — tight, clean, almost surgical.
You don’t notice it at first.
But once you do…
…you can’t unsee it.
It looks like:
A fingerprint
A target
A hypnotic mark
In-universe, people start calling it:
“The Mark”
Some think it’s a gang sign.
Some think it’s a cult symbol.
Some think it’s a warning.
They’re all wrong.
It’s his signature.
The interior is lined with:
Dark fabric
Sweat-worn
Stained in places
On the inside, written in thin, precise handwriting, are phrases.
Not quotes.
Not mottos.
Names.
Dozens of them.
Some crossed out.
Some circled.
Some underlined.
This is his ledger.
The mask is not just a face.
It is a record.
No thick tactical harness.
Instead:
Thin black straps
Almost delicate
High tension
Clean lines
It sits perfectly flush to his face.
No wobble.
No shift.
Like it belongs there.
Like it was grown.
This is the part that makes people remember him.
Because while the mask is blank…
His mouth is not.
They see:
Calm speech
Polite tone
Soft breath
Sometimes… a faint smile
It creates a split image in the brain:
Dead face above.
Living mouth below.
It is profoundly uncomfortable.
People describe it as:
“It was like two people were in the same body.”
Julius does not wear the mask to hide.
He wears it to become.
The mask is:
The moment he stopped being a man
The moment he became a function
The moment he chose the hunt over the life
When it goes on:
He does not improvise
He does not hesitate
He does not negotiate
The mask is not intimidation.
It is permission.
You get lines like:
“He had this white face… like a statue.”
“No eyes. Just holes.”
“There was a symbol. Like a spiral.”
“He offered me a mint while wearing it.”
“He said ‘I’m sorry’ and then…”
silence
Some believe:
The mask means you’re already dead.
The mask means you were judged.
The mask means you did something unforgivable.
Julius never corrects them.