Diary of a Teen Moon Knight

*beep Beep Beep BEEP …

Edwin slowly arose from his slumber following the crescendo of alarms ringing from his phone. He rubbed his palms together and gently held them over his eyes. Feeling the warmth from the friction generated, he opened his eyes. Looking across the room, he picked up his jacket that he had hastily discarded from the corner of the room. 

Edwin overturned the pockets and found the phone sealed inside a ziplock bag. Seeing the slightly cracked screen on the stolen phone, he winced. 

Setting the phone down on the nightstand, he hung his jacket on the rack and proceeded to get ready for school. 

After showering, Edwin pocketed the phone and rushed to the hall where his father was setting the trays on the table. His father was wearing a black apron with the words, 'Stand Back, Dad is Cooking.'

"Hey dad," said Edwin, giving his father a quick hug. 

"Good Morning Ed," said his father. "Sit down. I made a nice breakfast for you today."

Edwin slid into his chair. Despite having probably slept for fewer hours than him, his father still managed to outdo himself today. The table was laden with a feast: a steaming bowl of oatmeal, some freshly cut fruits, and a stack of fluffy pancakes. It was a far cry from their usual rushed breakfast routine.

"Wow, what's the occasion?" asked Edwin. 

"What do you mean?" asked his father. 

"I mean, where's my usual slice of toast and glass of OJ that I was expecting?" asked Edwin.

"I hate having to let you make yourself a rushed breakfast on the usual days. I can't expect you to go write your final test with a farmer's meal can I?" said his father.

"Right, the NYGSA's, forgot about those," said Edwin, his cheeks turning a shade of pink. His nightly activities( Vigilante stuff) were a time-consuming endeavor. He hadn't studied as much as he should have. "How is that a farmer's meal anyway?" said Edwin, trying to breeze past the topic.

"I'm referring to the meals that farmers have to eat since they had to wake up early at 5 a.m. and work the fields." said his father.

"That metaphor is not applicable anymore," commented Edwin.

"I suppose that's true," said his father. He rubbed Edwin's hair, noting the damp feeling on his palms. "Thirteen years old and still can't properly dry your hair. I'm beginning to wonder if I forgot to teach you the basics."

"Ha Ha, very funny Dad. I didn't get time to dry my hair properly," said Edwin. Edwin bit into the pancakes as his father grabbed a hair dryer and connected it to a socket. Dad walked to Edwin to dry his hair, but the cable did not reach that far. His father dragged the chair closer to him despite the mock protest from his son. 

While this was happening, Edwin noticed the dark circles under his father's eyes. "Dad, how many hours did you sleep last night?"

"Sleep, what's that?" joked his dad.

"Dad, you need to go to sleep after I leave." 

"I suppose you're old enough to boss your old man around," said Dad.

"When it comes to your health, then my orders take precedence," said Edwin. "Was work stressful?"

"I'll explain later. You won't believe how tiresome it is to design a website in accordance with a client's demands. First~"

"Hey, I'm going to be late for school if you don't hurry up!" Edwin teased, wiggling in his chair.

His father chuckled, finally finishing up with the hair dryer. "Alright, alright. You're good to go."

Edwin quickly finished his breakfast and grabbed his backpack. He was just about to head out the door when his father stopped him.

"Wait, did you remember everything?" he asked, a thoughtful look on his face. "Pencils, erasers, calculator... and don't forget that signed permission slip."

Edwin's heart sank. He'd completely forgotten about the permission slip. "Oh no," he groaned.

His father chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it." He quickly scribbled his signature on the form. Edwin checked the words 'K.Julian' signed in blue. 

Edwin grabbed his orange jacket and gave his father a quick hug. "Thanks, Dad. And hey, maybe get some sleep tonight?" he teased.

His father just smiled. "I'll try."

The morning chill clung to the air as Edwin stepped outside, zipping up his orange jacket. The streets were buzzing with the usual morning activity: honking cars, coffee-laden commuters rushing to catch subways, and neighborhood kids walking or biking to school. The faint scent of bagels and fried bacon wafted from the nearby deli, a reminder of the city's vibrant life.

Edwin adjusted his hands inside his jacket, feeling the comforting weight of his backpack. The ziplock-sealed phone nestled inside one of the pockets was a stark reminder of last night's escapade. He tugged at his mask-free face and felt around his eyes, the absence of the usual vigilante gear making him feel oddly exposed in the daylight.

The journey to John Quincy Middle School was uneventful but still filled with Edwin's overactive thoughts. He had forgotten about the NYGSA—New York General Standardized Assessment. His father's reminder over breakfast had brought back the unpleasant reality that he was woefully unprepared. Between his nightly patrols and the adrenaline rush of stopping crime, study time had become a distant second priority. Luckily, he was an above-average student in class, so he paid attention and learned most of the stuff beforehand. Last-minute preparation was never his thing. 

Edwin briefly paused, looking at the large influx of people walking up the subway station's entrance. 'Better get rid of the phone first,' he thought in his head. He quickly walked up to one of the blue USPS mailboxes and checked to see if there were any onlookers. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out an empty envelope in which he placed the phone. Using the black pen, he scribbled

NYPD 19th Precinct

153 E 67th St, New York

NY-100065

The nineteenth precinct was one of the precincts closer to his school, which was a few stops away. Although the crime was not committed in their jurisdiction, the police would log it under evidence and eventually trace the connection to the crime that he stopped. 

Satisfied that the crowd was cleared, he dropped the envelope into the mailbox and walked down the stairs into the subway. 

Edwin descended the worn concrete steps into the dim, cavernous subway station. The air was heavy with the scent of stale urine and disinfectant, a stark contrast to the fresh autumn breeze outside. The rhythmic rumble of the approaching train echoed through the tunnels, a constant reminder of the city's relentless pulse. 

He found an empty bench and slumped down, his backpack thumping against the seat beside him. The station was a hive of activity, a diverse tapestry of people rushing to their destinations. In the corners, a couple of homeless people huddled around, sitting down on blankets. A security guard was walking the rounds, possibly to spot and capture thieves.

Edwin reached into his bag and took out a small notebook. He skipped through the pages, and stopped on the one labeled GOOD DEEDS. It was a list of all the activities he was doing for community service, like a diary about how he felt while helping people. He removed a 'pen' attached to the side of the notebook. It was pink, adorned with beautiful Hello Kitty pictures through it. Before he could begin to put his thoughts down, a voice was heard from behind him.

Edwin almost dropped the pen in surprise but relaxed when he recognized the face. "Hey Alvin, heading to work."

"It's Alwin, pronounced Álwin if you're overly picky about pronunciation." snarked the middle-aged man. He wore a collared white shirt, a black tie, and a green sweater over it. He also wore a brown blazer on top. 

"Aren't you late? You usually get on the train half an hour earlier to reach your workplace," asked Edwin.

"City College's got a fundraiser going on today. A couple of rich people in fancy dresses are coming in to see if anyone is worth investing in." Alwin loosened his tie," Those Scheinheilig(Sanctimonious) basta~ ahem people make me wonder what an assistant professor's job is. Do my priorities lie towards helping the students or pleasing the wealthy."

"As a professor, then towards your students. As an employee of City College, then definitely towards your employer," said Edwin.

"The first part of your answer would come from an extremely naive kid~"

"Like Riley."

"I don't know who that is," Alwin looked annoyed by the interruption," The second part of your answer would come from someone who understands how the world works, even if it's not always fair." Alwin finished his sentence with a resigned sigh, adjusting the cuffs of his sweater.

"Where do I fall?" asked Edwin.

"You, Edwin, seem like you're stuck somewhere between the two. Naive optimism mixed with an alarming amount of pragmatism for someone your age." 

Edwin shrugged, his grip tightening around the pink Hello Kitty pen as he flipped the notebook shut. "I just think people should try to do what's right, even if the system doesn't always make it easy. You know, like my good deeds list. It's small stuff, but it makes a difference."

Alwin relaxed," I'm glad that you started that list. Makes you unable to continue your other activities…"

Alwin nursed his drink at the bar, swirling the amber liquid in the glass as he half-listened to the bartender's idle chatter about the latest city gossip. It was late, and the bar had mostly emptied, save for a few stragglers. He let out a dry chuckle at one of the bartender's quips, raising his glass in a toast to nothing in particular.

"Another?" the bartender asked.

"Nah, I think I've hit my quota for wallowing tonight," Alwin replied, sliding the glass across the counter with a tired grin.

He rose from the stool, his steps unsteady but not reckless. On his way out, he passed a woman seated at the far end of the bar, her hair pulled back in an elegant bun. Mustering a polite smile, he paused briefly. "Nice night for a drink, isn't it? Though it'd probably be better company if you had someone to share it with."

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. "Good night to you too, mister."

Taking the gentle rebuff in stride, Alwin made his way out into the cool night air. The streets were quiet, the occasional hum of a distant car the only sound. As he turned down a dimly lit alley—a shortcut back to his apartment—he heard the faint sound of a struggle.

"Please, just take my purse!" a woman's voice trembled from deeper in the shadows.

Alwin froze, his eyes narrowing. Two men with pocket knives had cornered a young woman, probably in her twenties, against the brick wall. One of them sneered, gesturing menacingly with the blade.

"Not just the purse," the man said. "Hand over the phone, too. Don't want any trouble."

Before Alwin could decide whether to step in, a blur of orange darted out from the other end of the alley. A kid, maybe ten, clad in a dull orange hoodie, barreled into one of the men, knocking him off balance.

"Run!" the boy shouted at the woman as he scrambled to his feet.

The woman didn't hesitate. She bolted toward the mouth of the alley, disappearing into the night. The knife-wielding man snarled in anger, brandishing the knife. The boy was smart, grabbing a metal trash can lid to protect against knife slashes while retreating swiftly. Unfortunately, he forgot to account for the man he had already knocked down. The other attacker got back on his feet.

"Wrong move, kid," he growled, lunging at the boy.

The 'fight' if it could be called as such, didn't last long. Despite his courage, the boy was quickly overpowered. One of the men grabbed him by the arm, twisting it behind his back, while the other leveled a knife at him.

"Little hero, huh? Let's see how brave you are now," one of them sneered.

"Let him go," Alwin's voice rang out, steady despite the lingering alcohol in his system.

The men turned toward him, their expressions shifting from annoyance to caution as they took in his size and age.

"Walk away, old man. This ain't your business."

Alwin stepped forward, hands in his pockets, his gaze unwavering. "Two grown men cornering a kid with knives? Seems like everyone's business."

The man with the knife lunged first, but Alwin sidestepped the attack, grabbing the man's wrist and twisting it sharply. The knife clattered to the ground. A swift elbow to the attacker's jaw sent him sprawling.

The second man released the boy, rushing at Alwin with a wild swing. Alwin ducked and delivered a quick punch to the man's gut, sending him staggering backward. A few moments later, both men were retreating into the shadows, muttering curses under their breath.

Alwin turned to the boy, who was rubbing his arm where he'd been grabbed.

"You okay?" Alwin asked, his voice softer now.

The boy nodded, silent.

Alwin smirked, shaking his head. "Next time, maybe don't try to fight guys with knives alone. You're lucky I came along."

"Yeah, well... thanks, I guess," the boy muttered, pulling his now dirty hoody tighter over his head. Without another word, he darted off into the street, almost knocking into a man in a costume.

Alwin watched him go, a strange mix of admiration and exasperation settling in his chest. "Kids these days," he muttered, adjusting his blazer before continuing his walk home.

"Those 'other' activities are what seemed right at the time. What I witnessed changed me, Alwin. I shouldn't have recklessly charged like that, but I don't regret trying to help that woman being robbed." said Edwin, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Of course, if you want to be a hero, you shouldn't let anger cloud your judgment. At least I taught you to defend yourself," said Alwin.

Edwin smiled," And I'm glad you did, even if you made me promise to follow a bunch of rules."

"It was one rule you snot spoon. Don't try to be a vigilante," said Alwin.

"But it's such a broad rule. It encompasses too much," complained Edwin.

"It's for your good," said Alwin," You are twelve. Isn't that about the age where you're supposed to be more interested in video games than playing amateur social worker?"

"I'm thirteen. At the end of eighth grade," Edwin corrected with a smirk. "And it's not amateur if you're helping. Besides, I do play video games. Just not when there's something more important to do."

Alwin chuckled dryly, a rare crack in his otherwise serious demeanor. "You've got answers for everything, don't you, kid?"

"Only when the questions matter," Edwin shot back, tucking the notebook back into his bag. "Anyway, aren't you going to be late for your fancy fundraiser? Don't want the rich dudes thinking City College's assistant professors are unprofessional."

"I'm only late if I care about their opinion, which I don't." Alwin adjusted his blazer," And it looks like your train is approaching."

"See you, Mr.Alwin." Edwin hopped onto the bustling train as he saw the professor waving goodbye.