"The kids at school used to call me Daredevil as a joke," I explain as my hands go through the familiar motions of turning my prop of a cane into a weapon: a billy club.

"My dad was a boxer, but he didn't want me following in his footsteps, so I was forbidden to fight, to defend myself from their taunts. All they saw was a bookworm -- practically an endangered species in Hell's Kitchen -- when in truth, I could've wiped the floor with every last one of them... I just wanted to keep my promise."

And all the while I broke it every night to train in secret. The wryness in my voice tugs at the corners of my mouth.

"I imagine this seems ridiculous to you."