[Phantom]

Florin Beaumont Lee

Full Name: Florin Beaumont Lee
Pronouns: He/Him
Nicknames: N/A
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Room #: -
Birthplace: Custer, South Dakota
Birthday: November 5th
Orientation: Pansexual
Status: Single
Powers: Photographic Memory, Superhuman Intelligence
Play-By: Sungjoon Bang
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 184 lbs


Personality:
Florin is not an easily excitable person, he maintains a cool calm in almost every situation- although he's not completely unflappable. He almost always has something on his mind that he's puzzling over, and marking up. Florin often makes oddball associations between things that most people wouldn't even think of. Although he mostly keeps to himself- Florin can be cooperative- when he can be bothered. He is not gifted with actual foresight, even though sometimes it seems like it. When you're familiar enough with someone, there are only so many ways that they'll react to something. He is often mulling- planning- for any possibility or contingency. Florin is aware that this is an exercise in futility, but he does it nonetheless.

Perhaps the most surprising thing about Florin is his artistic inclinations. He has been praised for so long for something that comes second nature to him- that takes no effort at all. He's determined, even if he's not very good at it, and he relishes the challenge. Unlike his usual businesslike speech and mannerisms, Florin actually doesn't put much stock in social norms- especially when they don't make sense to him. When he's actually aware of what's going on around him, he's outspoken- it's one of many reasons why someone might dislike him.

If you asked him, Florin probably wouldn't be able to tell you the names of... any of his classmates.He is often so wrapped up in whatever he's doing, or whatever it is that he wants to do- a mental process, or mind puzzle- that he simply doesn't notice the people around him. Florin is, frequently, blunt. If it's a touchy subject, he tries his best to word things gently. Casually? He can easily come off as insensitive. While he understands that he processes emotions differently than other people, he doesn't always get things right. At the same time, if what he's saying is the truth, he's going to stand in it, and won't be bullied into changing his opinion.

Although he's not the world's best conversationalist, Florin does have one thing going for him: if you ask the right question, you can get just about anyone to tell on themselves. Florin is confident in himself, and he believes firmly that someone that's confident in their own abilities doesn't brag about them every ten minutes- or ever, for that matter. While he is very much a loner, Florin is a surprisingly generous person when he has the opportunity to be.

Florin has a form of alexithymia that manifests itself as an inability to express, or recognize, secondary emotions. He feels them as sensations in the body, but doesn't process them mentally, and cannot name them.

History:
cw: suicide, murder

Florin can remember everything he's ever seen perfectly. Unfortunately, the circumstances of his early life were dictated before he was born.

For Florin there was no hiding his ability. In almost all areas he developed at an unnatural pace- except speaking. Silence was natural to him- speech on the other hand, required effort. His vocal chords were fine, his dentition no better or worse than other children his age- he just didn't want to speak. Not speaking was natural- and after many, many visits to the doctor- both inside and outside the city, they decided that he'd start speaking when he wanted to.

When he played, he always set up his toys in the exact same way, every time. The room didn't matter, but the angles and the direction did. If it wasn't right, he wouldn't play until it was. It was odd, too, how he read. He didn't spend more than a few seconds looking at the pages. He could tell that it bothered his mother, so he would count to ten before he flipped them.

As he grew up, he went from being extremely sensitive towards noise to almost not caring at all. He had his own world, and his own thoughts, to focus on.

He did end up getting acclimated to speaking, in his own time.

Everyone around him thought he was extremely academically gifted, but it was hard not to be when he only had to see something once to remember it forever. He didn't study- at the beginning of the year he'd open the textbook and flip through the pages, one at a time.

The only subject Florin ever struggled with was math. It just didn't make sense to him without a calculator- but that was an easy fix. Late at night, when he couldn't sleep, he'd get out his calculator and go through all the operations he could think of. He'd see it once, and then he'd remember it forever. Times tables were a breeze. But praise from anyone- his mother or even his teachers- felt hollow. He was just copying the things that he'd seen, it didn't take any effort.

It lead to a lot of misunderstandings. Florin didn't think he was all that different. He was frequently frustrated with other kids for not knowing things that they should- they'd seen it- how could they not remember it?

He would eventually come to the realization that only he was capable of that- and that made things worse. He was being pushed by his teachers into spelling and geography bees with kids who not only tried, but actually cared- and he blew their doors off.

It wasn't until third grade music class that he met something that was actually challenging to him. The recorder. (It wasn't actually that challenging, but it took effort, and Florin appreciated that. He looked forward to it, even!) He couldn't just look at the sheet music and ace it right away. He had to actually practice. And even if he tried to copy someone by mimicking them, it still wasn't the same.

Unlike dry academia, which he was a master at, music was incredibly challenging to him. Even when he played a piece "perfectly", there was always something missing compared to other players.

Despite all of his successes, Florin's mother insisted that he stay in class with kids his age. AP classes were fine, but she didn't want him to skip any grades. That, combined with the fact that they lived in an incredibly small town, yet his mother had a lot of money (to a nine year old,) probably should have tipped him off that something was amiss. He did always get a strange feeling in his jaw and shoulders when he'd go to the parent teacher conferences with her- the look in her eyes when she insisted that he should stay in his class.

Then again, it wasn't like there was an episode of Sesame Street where Ernie ran halfway across the country to get away from his parents- if there was, he must have missed it.

It almost felt like the more Florin grappled with his differences, the less he got along with his classmates.

He wasn't bullied, but they were all aware of the fact he was different. Not just in thought, but in feeling. He didn't express himself like they did. He didn't always act like they did, either. He found himself asking questions, constantly. There were many things that they all seemed to "get" that he didn't. Or he did, but it seemed pointless and arbitrary, so he didn't bother. Even when he was included, Florin often felt like an outsider- like they were all speaking in a secret language that he didn't understand. Sometimes, he could manage a poor imitation. Others, they would all look at him with suspicion. Sometimes he said the wrong thing: sometimes he said the right thing, but the "wrong" way.

At some point, he had to force himself to stop caring for his own sanity. Everyone else would be judged by their intentions, and he would be judged by his specific word choice. So long as he wasn't purposely hurting anyone with his words- as long as he apologized when he messed up- it would have to be okay. He couldn't keep torturing himself by trying to learn whatever secret language they were all speaking.

Up until he was thirteen, Florin's extraordinary life was incredibly ordinary.

His mother insisted on him being a normal kid, growing up at a normal pace. Sometimes it frustrated him, but he didn't want to hurt her. He had the strong ghost of a feeling in his stomach every time he thought about why she made the choices she did. He was starting to want to know why, but he couldn't find the words to ask. His words hurt people, even when that wasn't his intention.

They had driven to a neighboring city to see a movie at the "nice" theater. (He assumed she called it that because it was newer. To him it just seemed louder, but people seemed to like loud movies, so he didn't complain.) There was a restaurant nearby that they walked to instead of driving, and by the time they started walking back to their car, it was already dark out.

Not every mugging is the same, but fundamentally, every mugging is the same.

Thankfully, the guy only had a knife. It was reflexive for Florin to try and stop the blade, palm first. He didn't even feel the cut. A big, barking: "HEY!" from up the street was enough to scare the mugger off.

Florin had a nice- deep- scar, and several stitches, to remember him by. He acted before he could think, and he felt a strange, woozy, sensation in his feet and stomach before he felt the pain.

After he had been stitched up, and they were home, Florin finally asked what had been on his mind for a while. And he got the whole truth.

His mother was the oldest of several children, and she was tired of her life caught in the middle of not only her own business, but her parent's and that of several younger siblings. She hated that cold, competitive world. And once she knew that she was pregnant, she took her money and ran.

He was, literally, the excuse she used to leave.

It finally made sense why he never saw the relatives that his classmates always talked about around the holidays: the aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins. She didn't mention his father, and he wasn't all that curious.

The world she had tried to shelter him from came in, gale force. It was time to step into it.

That summer, they spent a couple of weeks in Michigan, visiting his cousin. At first, Florin thought he didn't like to speak, then he found out he couldn't. He didn't hate the silence, and he learned to sign himself so they could communicate.

His mom still wouldn't let him skip a grade, but she did agree to have him bused over to the gifted school.

Two years later, as hard as he could see it was for her, he was off to boarding school. One of the top schools in the country. Florin wasn't entirely thrilled about it- but if it was being offered...

They had private rooms, but meals in the cafeteria were mandatory four times a week. Classes were meant to be challenging, but even in that environment, Florin flourished. A genius among geniuses. He was constantly praised by his teachers, up on the little pedestal they placed him on.

It was boring. There had been some part of him that had hoped- here- at a "gifted" school, he would finally be challenged.

In the winter of his Junior year, he was. For eight days, he and four others were trapped in that school in the snow.

There, he fought a monster.

(And, for the first time, felt he made a real friend.)

The first day was normal, if a little quiet. He had debated whether he should go home for winter break or not, and he was thankful that he had chosen to stay. It felt off seeing the campus so empty, practically deserted. He had free access to anything there that he wanted, so Florin spent most of his time in the poor little music room they had- doing something challenging.

Later that day, they all had dinner together. He- three other students he couldn't, and wasn't, really bothered to recognize- and the unlucky teacher who had to stay behind with them. They talked a little while they ate, and their teacher offered them some wine. Florin drank a single glass, got up, and left back to his room for the night.

At breakfast the next day, their teacher was missing.

They were already snowed in, and the ground was now covered with feet of fresh snow fallen the night before. They searched everywhere they could, the only place they couldn't check was the teacher's quarters. The door was locked, which suggested he either never made it back last night, or he'd... Just slept in? One of the other kids, Steven, banged on the gates and yelled, but there was no answer. Meanwhile, Florin took a good look at the lock- electronic.

Not yet truly aware of the magnitude of the situation yet, they realized they were really snowed when they tried to make a call outside.

The phone was dead. They couldn't access the internet either. The other kids were going to go check out the networking room. Meanwhile, he was headed towards the computer and science labs.

'Where are you going?' One of them asked. He didn't like the look on his face, he almost seemed... thrilled. He just said he'd meet back up with them.

What would he need... A power source, a conductor, something to ground him... He was already probably going to be expelled for breaking into the teacher's quarters, so he wasn't worried about taking whatever he needed. Within about fifteen minutes, he'd put a little something together.

Either it would work, or it wouldn't be his problem anymore. On his way to test it out, Florin could hear their footsteps behind him.

The phone lines had been cut. The server was trashed. And without an internet hotspot their cell phone signal was a joke. Now he had to get in.

'You'll be expelled!' He could hear Steven warn behind him. For him, that probably really mattered. All the other kids needed to be here... He- well- he didn't. 'I'll tell them I did it. Stand back.' That, or he'd be dead. Either way.

He made contact, flipped the switch and waited. The security system's alarm blared for a few moments, before the lock clicked.

'Wow... A natural born genius really is different.' There was that guy again. Florin didn't like the way he said that, but he was too busy searching.

They checked all the rooms, and there was still no sign of their teacher. At that point, they couldn't help but suspect foul play.

Who had cut the lines, and destroyed the server?

He'd gone there himself to look at the damage- it was extensive. In some places it almost looked like the wires had been burned through. There was no fixing that. Even though there was a screwdriver that had been left there. And they were still snowed in. If they hiked out they'd probably be able to get a signal, or, they could wait six days until everyone returned.

Their teacher couldn't have gotten far in this weather, he had to be around. They just hadn't searched hard enough. They kept looking until it got dark.

That night at dinner, the main topic of discussion was what to do next. It was only interrupted by... Well, he didn't know his name. 'We were in the same class last year.' He said, cutting across the conversation, staring right at him. 'I bet you don't even know my name.' Nail, meet hammer. He thought about it for a minute before he just went out and said it: 'It's Julian.'
'...Okay.'
He wasn't really sure what else to say, but Julian seemed pretty satisfied. Florin still didn't like the way he was looking at him.

By now he was very aware of the fact that Julian didn't seem to have the same amount of interest in his other classmates. And if he had been this interested earlier, he would have approached him a long time ago.

On day three, they found him. They hadn't, Anna did. But they were all gathered together, out there in the snow. He was right there in the courtyard, buried under two nights of snow. Florin didn't have high hopes for him. Steven checked him, and his expression told Florin everything he needed to know.

Now that they'd found him, they decided that a couple of them should hike out to wherever they could make a call. Anna and Steven went, and Florin went back to his room. He expected to just stay put and think, until he heard the door open.

Julian leaned against the wall. 'You're not normal, are you?'
'What about you?' If they were asking questions, he was going to ask one of his own. Julian shook his head, and, somehow, Florin knew there was more.
He held up his hand, and it turned a hazy orange.
It didn't take a genius to figure out that that fist of his probably burned- the air around it lapping and waving, the same way the air around a hot grill did.
'What do you want?' He was tired of beating around the bush. Julian must have been too, he smirked and leaned toward him: 'To play a game.'

...A game? The phone lines were cut, a man was dead, and he wanted to play a game? It was just the two of them, and it wasn't like he could refuse. 'What game?'

He had always wanted a challenge, but he never wanted this. His shoulders felt like they were being squeezed.

'You're smart. You'll figure it out.' Julian looked at his phone. 'I'll give you... Twenty minutes.' It felt like he was playing with him. Twenty minutes, for what?

No time to waste, back to the labs. He didn't even know what he was preparing for, or who he was dealing with. Florin thought back to the year before- they had shared a class. He knew his face. He'd seen it, even if he wasn't paying attention. Julian had been absent more than a few times. Sometimes he came back injured. He was second in their class, after him. He didn't know how he acted in any other situation, but he at least had some clues to go off of.

He let his hands work as his mind wandered. He didn't want to get close to him, he'd shown him exactly why. Florin had a reminder, too, on his right palm. He'd been foolish and hasty in the past. Now, he was alone. He wasn't thinking about his mother beside him, and he didn't have a good Samaritan passerby to rely on. Steven and Anna, if things went how they should, wouldn't be back for an hour at least. Julian hadn't challenged him to a game of Monopoly.

Florin was careful when he left the science lab. He still had... Five minutes. He was going to work as he went. He set noise "traps" as he moved. Where should he go?

His room was too small. The lab was too small. If he went outside, or to the dining hall, he'd have no control over the environment- Julian would just have to corner him.

...There was their dinky little music room. It wasn't actually that little, but it wasn't used often. In their nearly pristine school, the music room and the small stage in it were the only things that showed their age. It was the room he knew best- there were three ways in and out.

Twenty minutes came and went. No noise, nothing. What was he waiting for?

What was he waiting for? Breaking the silence, Florin approached the piano he had spent hours practicing on, fingers of his right hand splayed out widely: and he played the most discordant chord he could think of.

Was he supposed to be the seeker? Was this the game they were playing?

He left through the side entrance. Florin had never been any good at being quiet, he had a tendency to drag his feet when he walked. He paid attention to his footsteps like he never had before.

But he couldn't find him. He gave him twenty minutes and then he vanished... Florin's first instinct was to look for him, but he had to check something else first.

He went back to the courtyard. None of them had checked to see how their teacher had died.

Now, the body was gone.

Florin looked everywhere for Julian. After he couldn't find him, he climbed the stairs, up towards the gate that he'd jolted open yesterday. It was shut again, clipped together with what looked like a bike lock.

Why lock himself in?

'What are you doing?'
'I wanted to see what you would do.' He almost looked like he was laughing at him.
'Where's the body?'
'I put it somewhere safe.' Julian looked at his phone again. 'They should be back soon. What are you going to say?'
'Nothing.'

Somewhere safe. Julian didn't seem as comfortable as he had before. He was leaning to his right side- now, Florin could assume that while moving the body he had thrown his back out, or-

The screwdriver!

'The phones were already down.' He was mostly talking to himself, but Julian nodded.

Sometime after dinner, their teacher had gone to make a call. When that didn't work, he went to the server room. He must have caught Julian doing damage to the servers. In shock and trying to defend himself, he stabbed him. He had half of the puzzle. He could hear the doors open and shut downstairs. 'What now?' He asked.

'We'll have to finish later.'

What could he do? Run downstairs and start ranting and raving with no evidence? If he tried to act now, Julian would shove his hand through him next. If that was his intention in the first place, he would have done it already. Florin backed down, and as he headed downstairs, he cleaned up the mess he had made earlier.

They were able to make a call, but the roads were so bad that it would take a couple of days for anyone to get there. If they had known that their teacher was murdered, they might have treated the situation with more urgency. Florin needed to get one of them alone, but that was easier said than done. Julian was watching him now. So he played nice, and he waited.

He could watch him, too. So long as he didn't try to hurt any of them, they had a couple of days to figure this whole thing out.

Florin had a strong suspicion that, if the authorities arrived any earlier, Julian was going to get away with it. It would be put in the bin (or maybe the file cabinet in the basement,) with all of the other "unexplained" murders.

He got his chance the next day. He managed to pass a note to Steven, and they met in the server room. He had moved the body, but the screwdriver was still there. The blood had dried on the wall, but he hadn't wiped it up either. 'Keep an eye on Julian.' He just left it at that. When he saw the way he leaned- or the way he walked- he'd figure it out for himself.

His message got around. Over the next few days they consorted in secret. Shared glaces, whispers between the three of them- clues left that you'd only be able to find if you were looking for them. The other two could figure out a plan on their own, for now, he had to keep Julian focused on him. That was easy, Florin just had to pretend to search for the body. He led him on a wild goose hunt- at some point he was sure that he had to know that he was just leading him around. He walked up to the roof, and then he found it.

The body. 'The roof?' He sounded incredulous.
'They can't get to us here.' Julian replied, with his back turned to him- literally melting the door shut at the edges.

He was trapped. Florin put as much distance between them as he could, but it wasn't like he walked into this with nothing. Hands behind his back, he looked right at him. Julian didn't seem to be in a hurry to close the distance.

'What's the matter?' He asked. 'I'm not going to hurt you.'
Sure, and he didn't have a weapon in his hand.
'Why did you kill him?' Florin asked.
'I didn't like him.' Silence hung in the air between them.

He had to keep him talking. And he had to let the others know they were on the roof. There was no acting casual in this situation, and he wasn't suited for that kind of social display anyway. Florin sat on the raised edge of the roof, his back to the open air. If he just wanted to talk, he'd talk.

'Is that what happens to everyone you don't like?' He noticed the corners of Julian's lips turn upward.
'Sometimes.'
More beating around the bush.
'What do you want from me?' He let go of the lighter and the makeshift device he'd had in his hands when he said what, and hoped that his deep, low voice, and his halting way of speaking would muffle the sound of them (hopefully) hitting the windows, and then the ground.

Either Julian didn't know, or he didn't care. 'We're the same kind. I thought you'd understand.'
'We're not.' He replied firmly, getting up.
Julian looked almost... Hurt? He couldn't recognize the expression on his face.
'That's... disappointing.' It didn't seem like he was in any danger, but Florin didn't let his guard down. He still had no idea what 'game' exactly they were playing. And Florin had never enjoyed surprises, even the "pleasant" ones.

He could hear footsteps echoing up the stairwell. He'd have to keep this short:
'How many others?'
'Eight, including him.'

They were banging at the door, and either his ears were ringing, or he could hear a siren in the distance.
Julian sighed. 'I thought I'd have another day with you... Game's over, I guess.'
At first Florin thought he was going to take a run at him- but he kept walking toward the edge.
'Wait-'
He should have reached out faster than he did- he should have stopped him. Florin still isn't sure if he actually hesitated, and wanted him to fall, or if he just wasn't fast enough.
The look on his face made him just as angry then as it did the first time he saw it. The awful way he said: 'I win.' before he stepped off the ledge, the sound his body made when it hit the ground- stuck in his head forever.

Crystal clear, never to fade. Anna and Steven had shoved the door open, and were standing next to him. It's not like they reached out either.

When they were interviewed afterward by the detectives, they all told the same story. The one they'd been working on for the past few days.

Because of that, Julian hadn't gotten away with it completely scot-free.
Florin wasn't expelled- and he got most of the credit.
That moment played over and over in his head. Every word he said haunted him. Julian was a monster- and he began to ask himself:

Are monsters born, or are they made?

If he was born that way, it was our fault for not recognizing it sooner. If he was made that way, it was our fault for not stopping it. He couldn't help it, it was in his nature. If anyone had known before...

Florin was a genius - he should have been curing cancer, or building a giant rocket to launch anti vaxxers into the sun- instead he finally found something he was interested in. It was a shame that so many people had to die before he did.

Once again, he had been woefully unprepared. Everyone thought he was a hero- but Julian was right- he was a loser. He hadn't been able to stop him.

If he'd just wanted to kill himself, he should have done it quietly- somewhere else, where it wasn't their problem.

Back at school, Florin finally hopped off the pedestal they placed him on. He had always had a hard time actually feeling close to others, even when they insisted otherwise. Steven felt like an actual friend now. Even if he did, occasionally, have to remind him that other people's brains didn't work like his. He and Anna never talked before then, and they didn't afterwards either.

When Florin graduated, he had a vague idea of what he wanted to do, but it wasn't like there was a college curriculum for it.

His first step into his future profession was coincidental. He saw a picture on Twitter of a suspect they were searching for- all he had to do was see the picture once. There was a corner of a window that he could see out past the man's shoulders.

Florin stayed up for three days searching on Google Maps until he found the match. It looked almost perfectly identical- he wrote it in.

In his personal life he started taking Judo lessons- even though he could improvise, he didn't like relying on a weapon. If there was a library around he hadn't visited before, he'd walk in and look through all the books he could find. He realized now that Julian had been playing with him, but if he hadn't been, the mechanical skills that he picked up might have saved his life.

He began to take more cases like that- where the police, or some other agency, were asking for help. At some point the scales tipped, and he became one of the last people they called before the psychic.

They were the same kind... There had been a nugget of truth to that. Would he be as good at this if they weren't?

The difference was that he remembered the cracks on the wall, the shirt the kid was wearing, what color the curtains were- in perfect detail. It haunted him in a very real, tactile way. He could feel it in his bones, and on his back. His lungs felt tight.

The ones that bothered him the most were the few he was unable to outright solve. Where he could dryly analyze the patterns, and spit out data points. Likelihoods and targets. All he could do was leave, and hope that they actually heeded his warnings- he didn't always have the stomach to check. There was no building a single profile for people like that- no predictability. All he could do was look at their behavior and make connections.

Doing work like this, he felt less bad about not doing something else with his gift. There were already cures for many kinds of cancer- that work had been done. Now they were trying to secure funding, do human trials, and work out practical delivery systems. He was fit to do one third of those things.

He even began taking work outside of the States, although he continued being the person that he always was- uninterested in the tourist destinations. Damn near oblivious actually. No matter where he went, he always set out his personal possessions in the same way- every time. The room didn't matter, but the angles and the direction did. If it wasn't right, he couldn't work until it was.

Florin didn't work all the time, but when he wasn't working he was often studying. There was only one type of case that he almost never took: Missing persons. He thought of his mother, who wanted to disappear without a trace from her old life. Sometimes a person had a good reason to go missing.

He even visited his grandparents, once. And it didn't take long for him to figure out why she'd wanted to leave so badly.

Now, when he thinks of Julian, he feels sad. Florin doesn't pity him- absolutely not- he chose to act like that. He made his bed. But he was clearly not okay in a way that Florin wasn't equipped to address. Unlike the other seven, their teacher's death had been an accident. He hated being called in after the fact- that he could only show up after (a usually massive,) amount of harm had been done. Lives changed forever, including the lives of the perpetrators.

It's only fitting that someone like him wouldn't be able to fly under the radar forever. Perhaps his travels abroad had bought him some time, or maybe the powers that be thought he was more useful out there for the time being. No matter what, a school for the gifted was perfect bait for a man like him.

How could Florin possibly resist going to a place that so accurately resembled the site of his original wound? The place where he experienced his first- and only- loss. If he got better, if he sharpened his blades, perhaps he could move on to more important work:

If monsters are made, they can be unmade. If they are born, they can be identified before they have a chance to harm anyone.

Other:
The Powers:
Photographic Memory- Florin remembers with perfect clarity everything he's ever seen, from birth up until the present- even if he himself was not paying attention at the time. He can recall any memory instantly, from something as small as a page in a book to a much longer memory. Because his memories are so clear and he has the ability to "replay" them over and over, Florin can- if he had a good enough view- read lips and even figure out what someone was writing by mimicking the motions of their hand.

Superhuman Intelligence- Somewhat self-explanatory. Florin possesses a superhuman level of "intelligence"- insofar as intelligence is currently labeled and acknowledged in our society. He makes connections and recognizes patterns that most people wouldn't even think of.

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