My way of life was instilled in K'un-Lun as well -- I regret you cannot understand!

Do not force me to battle you, officers of the law. For I am blameless of any wrongdoing and would remain so.

My name is Danniel Rand. After watching my parents murdered in cold blood, I was taken in by mystical monks. They protected me the only way they knew how. They turned fear into rage. To focus my rage, they promised vengeance. They turned me into a living weapon. Trained for ten years for the sole purpose of returning to Earth and killing Harold Meachum in the name of my dead mother and father. And then they acted surprised when I left. I returned to the world of men and found Meachum waiting for me in Rand Tower. A paraplegic, reeking of bourbon and fear. In essence, he was already dead. Guilt, reject and terror had already taken him. I looked into his hollow eyes. It was like looking into nothingness. I had become a weapon without a target. A worthless exercise. A lie. My fist wasn't forged in iron... But irony. An orphan of two worlds. Two families. Stuck in that place in-between. Now, where's a good place to catch up? Should I start with the metal monster standing over me? My dead father's face bolted onto it like a cheap Halloween mask... Or should I begin with the broken mess of bones I once called fists? My chi, the source of my power, cut off at the source.