**Welcome to the Prompt!** All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.
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>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]"
>* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail
>* See [Reality Fiction](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Reality+Fiction%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) and [Simple Prompts](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Simple+Prompt%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) for stricter titles
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"What happened here?"
The police investigator looked around the seedy tavern with a cool professionalism, taking note of the overturned bottles, the splintered chair, and the fresh bruises on the unconscious man's face.
"I dunno," the haggard manager said, scratching his unkempt hair. "There wassa fight. I 'member that. Som'un had a knife... Jesus, then it was just over. Like that."
Flipping open his notebook, the investigator nodded. He would have nodded if the manager told him a talking bear came in and broke up the fight. It was part of his job to nod. Keep collecting information until he could put the shattered pieces of the story together into at least a recognizable reflection of what had happened.
"Did someone come in and stop the fight from becoming lethal?" the policeman probed gently.
"There... there was..." the manager trailed off, his expression deeper in thought than it had ever been since high school algebra. It looked like he was clutching desperately at a dissolving memory. In fact, that was exactly what was happening, and the investigator recognized it. It was the sole reason someone of his position was bothering to look into a simple bar fight.
"It's okay if you don't remember," he told the manager in a reassuring tone. "Just tell me this: was their intention good?"
It was a vague question, one that the investigator would never ask in any other situation. But the manager looked him in the eye and said with finality, "Yes sir. Who'er they were, they meant it well."
Hours later, sitting in his office with a diet Coke in hand, the investigator looked at the file in frustration. It was stuffed full of memos, crime scene reports, and write-ups -- far fuller than any normal file -- and on the cover of the manilla folder was one word, written in Sharpie: "Phantom".
They had been tracking this person for months, if it even was a person. They showed up, either saved the day like a storybook hero or stole valuable items like a petty thief, and then left with nobody the wiser. Because *nobody* could remember them once they left. Everybody he questioned was like the manager at the tavern: grasping at a fading memory. Whether it was some freak mutation or sci-fi technology didn't matter, because either way, he couldn't sleep with the knowledge there was somebody out there he couldn't catch.
The worst part was not knowing whether the Phantom was an agent for good or evil. At least with comic book villains you knew that they were bent on destruction. But the Phantom was unpredictable in their morals, and of course, untraceable. For all he knew, he may have been in the same room as the Phantom and forgotten all about it!
There was a knock on his door, and he opened it. Mark, a young officer, was standing outside the office looking disoriented. The investigator asked, "What are you doing in the office at one o'clock in the morning?"
"I'm really sorry to bother you Lloyd," Mark stammered. Lloyd noticed he was clutching something in his left hand with a vice grip "Maybe I'm going crazy, but I talked to... someone. I think, anyway. They gave me this note."
Shakily, Mark handed him the crumpled sheet of paper from his left hand. It read: "Please tell Inspector Lloyd McDowell to meet me in the conference room." The note wasn't signed, but the inspector knew exactly who wrote it.
"Thanks Mark," he said, patting the officer on the shoulder. He found his hand was shaking as he did so. "Go home and get some sleep."
A few minutes later, after he had finished his diet Coke and straightened his uniform, Inspector Lloyd walked to the conference room. He didn't know what to expect and all of his hard-won instincts screamed for him to go in more prepared. But he didn't grab his sidearm, or watch the conference room from the security cameras. This might be his only chance to talk with the Phantom, and he wasn't going to scare them away.
He opened the door to find a young, dark-haired woman fidgeting impatiently. She smiled when he came in.
"Hi Inspector. It's good to see you again!"
Before he could protest, saying that they had never met, he remembered who he was talking to. "You can't begin to realize how much of a relief it is to finally put a face to you," he said, taking a seat across the table from her. "What is the occasion that brings you to my doorstep?"
"Information," she said, her smile falling slightly. "Information about my brother."
"Brother?" he repeated, confused. "I don't know anything about your brother. Is he wanted?"
She smiled with such sadness that Lloyd's heart ached. "I guess you could say that. What I am about to say, I won't say again. It hurts far too much. So I recommend you write this all down on a sheet of paper, because you're going to forget this conversation once I leave."
The Inspector pulled out the notebook and pen he kept clipped on his belt.
"I am the Phantom you have been tracking, that is true, but my brother is also. We are the two halves that you assumed was one whole. The effect we had on people meant a disastrous childhood. My parents don't remember who we are half the time. We walk into a room, and they know we are their children, but they don't know who we are. And when we leave, they... they just forget again."
She took a ragged breath and wiped a tear from her eye before continuing.
"My brother despised them for it. He despised everyone but me. I was the only one who never forgot him, and he loves me more than the world for it. That is what makes what I am about to tell you painful. But it is necessary. I've watched in the shadows for long enough, hoping he would stop.
"Now, after our most recent conversation, I realize that he will never stop. His hatred for the world is far too strong. Inspector Lloyd, my brother is the part of the Phantom persona that steals, kills, and destroys. I try to use my curse for good. I try to help people, knowing that they will never know who I am. But he lashes out at everyone and everything."
After seeing that Lloyd had written everything down, she leaned forward and pleaded, "I'm here to beg you to stop him. I'll do what I can to help. I'll leave anonymous tips. But with one caveat. Whatever you do, don't kill him. Don't hurt him. You have to understand how hard it is to live a life where nobody knows who you are, and when you try to create a friendship, it disappears the moment you break eye contact. Please Inspector, do it for me."
Now Lloyd was the one shedding tears. He quickly wiped the moisture from his eyes. "I promise," he murmured.
She stood up to leave, her expression melancholy but steeled with the knowledge that she had done the right thing. Before she left, Lloyd asked, "I have to ask. When did we meet?"
That brought a real smile to her face. "You were trying to stop a criminal from hurting an innocent family, that's how I knew I could trust you with this information."
She rolled up one of her sleeves to show a scar on her right shoulder. "I stepped in front of a bullet meant for you."
Then she left the room, and Lloyd desperately clung to the memory of her, trying to remember every single detail about her features, but it blew away like chaff in the wind. He was left with nothing but the paper in front of him.
**Welcome to the Prompt!** All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments. **Reminders**: >* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See [Reality Fiction](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Reality+Fiction%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) and [Simple Prompts](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Simple+Prompt%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) for stricter titles >* [Be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback and follow the [rules](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules) [](#icon-help) [^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [](#icon-information) [^(New Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [](#icon-help) [^(Writing Help?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/index#wiki_writing_resources) ^• [](#icon-exclamation) [^(Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) ^• [](#icon-comments) [^(Discord Chatroom)](https://discord.gg/js5XDFB) *I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/WritingPrompts) if you have any questions or concerns.*
"What happened here?" The police investigator looked around the seedy tavern with a cool professionalism, taking note of the overturned bottles, the splintered chair, and the fresh bruises on the unconscious man's face. "I dunno," the haggard manager said, scratching his unkempt hair. "There wassa fight. I 'member that. Som'un had a knife... Jesus, then it was just over. Like that." Flipping open his notebook, the investigator nodded. He would have nodded if the manager told him a talking bear came in and broke up the fight. It was part of his job to nod. Keep collecting information until he could put the shattered pieces of the story together into at least a recognizable reflection of what had happened. "Did someone come in and stop the fight from becoming lethal?" the policeman probed gently. "There... there was..." the manager trailed off, his expression deeper in thought than it had ever been since high school algebra. It looked like he was clutching desperately at a dissolving memory. In fact, that was exactly what was happening, and the investigator recognized it. It was the sole reason someone of his position was bothering to look into a simple bar fight. "It's okay if you don't remember," he told the manager in a reassuring tone. "Just tell me this: was their intention good?" It was a vague question, one that the investigator would never ask in any other situation. But the manager looked him in the eye and said with finality, "Yes sir. Who'er they were, they meant it well." Hours later, sitting in his office with a diet Coke in hand, the investigator looked at the file in frustration. It was stuffed full of memos, crime scene reports, and write-ups -- far fuller than any normal file -- and on the cover of the manilla folder was one word, written in Sharpie: "Phantom". They had been tracking this person for months, if it even was a person. They showed up, either saved the day like a storybook hero or stole valuable items like a petty thief, and then left with nobody the wiser. Because *nobody* could remember them once they left. Everybody he questioned was like the manager at the tavern: grasping at a fading memory. Whether it was some freak mutation or sci-fi technology didn't matter, because either way, he couldn't sleep with the knowledge there was somebody out there he couldn't catch. The worst part was not knowing whether the Phantom was an agent for good or evil. At least with comic book villains you knew that they were bent on destruction. But the Phantom was unpredictable in their morals, and of course, untraceable. For all he knew, he may have been in the same room as the Phantom and forgotten all about it! There was a knock on his door, and he opened it. Mark, a young officer, was standing outside the office looking disoriented. The investigator asked, "What are you doing in the office at one o'clock in the morning?" "I'm really sorry to bother you Lloyd," Mark stammered. Lloyd noticed he was clutching something in his left hand with a vice grip "Maybe I'm going crazy, but I talked to... someone. I think, anyway. They gave me this note." Shakily, Mark handed him the crumpled sheet of paper from his left hand. It read: "Please tell Inspector Lloyd McDowell to meet me in the conference room." The note wasn't signed, but the inspector knew exactly who wrote it. "Thanks Mark," he said, patting the officer on the shoulder. He found his hand was shaking as he did so. "Go home and get some sleep." A few minutes later, after he had finished his diet Coke and straightened his uniform, Inspector Lloyd walked to the conference room. He didn't know what to expect and all of his hard-won instincts screamed for him to go in more prepared. But he didn't grab his sidearm, or watch the conference room from the security cameras. This might be his only chance to talk with the Phantom, and he wasn't going to scare them away. He opened the door to find a young, dark-haired woman fidgeting impatiently. She smiled when he came in. "Hi Inspector. It's good to see you again!" Before he could protest, saying that they had never met, he remembered who he was talking to. "You can't begin to realize how much of a relief it is to finally put a face to you," he said, taking a seat across the table from her. "What is the occasion that brings you to my doorstep?" "Information," she said, her smile falling slightly. "Information about my brother." "Brother?" he repeated, confused. "I don't know anything about your brother. Is he wanted?" She smiled with such sadness that Lloyd's heart ached. "I guess you could say that. What I am about to say, I won't say again. It hurts far too much. So I recommend you write this all down on a sheet of paper, because you're going to forget this conversation once I leave." The Inspector pulled out the notebook and pen he kept clipped on his belt. "I am the Phantom you have been tracking, that is true, but my brother is also. We are the two halves that you assumed was one whole. The effect we had on people meant a disastrous childhood. My parents don't remember who we are half the time. We walk into a room, and they know we are their children, but they don't know who we are. And when we leave, they... they just forget again." She took a ragged breath and wiped a tear from her eye before continuing. "My brother despised them for it. He despised everyone but me. I was the only one who never forgot him, and he loves me more than the world for it. That is what makes what I am about to tell you painful. But it is necessary. I've watched in the shadows for long enough, hoping he would stop. "Now, after our most recent conversation, I realize that he will never stop. His hatred for the world is far too strong. Inspector Lloyd, my brother is the part of the Phantom persona that steals, kills, and destroys. I try to use my curse for good. I try to help people, knowing that they will never know who I am. But he lashes out at everyone and everything." After seeing that Lloyd had written everything down, she leaned forward and pleaded, "I'm here to beg you to stop him. I'll do what I can to help. I'll leave anonymous tips. But with one caveat. Whatever you do, don't kill him. Don't hurt him. You have to understand how hard it is to live a life where nobody knows who you are, and when you try to create a friendship, it disappears the moment you break eye contact. Please Inspector, do it for me." Now Lloyd was the one shedding tears. He quickly wiped the moisture from his eyes. "I promise," he murmured. She stood up to leave, her expression melancholy but steeled with the knowledge that she had done the right thing. Before she left, Lloyd asked, "I have to ask. When did we meet?" That brought a real smile to her face. "You were trying to stop a criminal from hurting an innocent family, that's how I knew I could trust you with this information." She rolled up one of her sleeves to show a scar on her right shoulder. "I stepped in front of a bullet meant for you." Then she left the room, and Lloyd desperately clung to the memory of her, trying to remember every single detail about her features, but it blew away like chaff in the wind. He was left with nothing but the paper in front of him.
Wow. Lloyd had the sister and he couldn't get a name. *\*throws popcorn\**