Daredevil, Season 1

[first scene of the series:
Matt Murdock goes to confession]

Matt Murdock:
Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It's been, uh…it's been too long since my last confession. My dad, he used to come to this church back when I was a kid. He was a fighter. Old school. Boxer. Lost more than he won. Had a 24-31 record before he, uh… But he could take a punch. Jesus, he could take a punch.

Father Lantom:
Language.

Matt:
Sorry, Father. Yeah... Guys he went up against used to say it was like hitting oak. And nights when he was outmatched, my dad's strategy was to let 'em hit him 'til they broke their hands. Never got knocked out, my dad. Knocked down, sure, but he, uh, always got back up. He was always on his feet when he lost. Every now and then, though, uh… Every now and then, he'd get hit and something inside him would snap. My grandmother…She was the real Catholic. Fear of God ran deep. You'd have liked her. She used to say, "Be careful of the Murdock boys. They got the devil in 'em." And you'd see it sometimes in the ring. His eyes would go dead… and he'd start walking forward real slow, hands at his sides like he wasn't afraid of anything. And the other guy, he'd see that look, and he'd try to get away from him. Nah. My dad, he'd catch him and trap him in a corner. Let the devil out. Yeah. Now, I didn't understand it, you know? What he was feeling deep inside, I didn't understand it. Not back then.

Lantom:
But you understand it now? Perhaps this would be easier if you tell me what you've done.

Matt:
I'm not seeking penance for what I've done, Father. I'm asking forgiveness…for what I'm about to do.

Lantom:
That's not how this works. What exactly are you about to do?

[Matt doesn't respond]

Foggy Nelson:
Good morning, sunshine!

Matt:
What time is it?

Foggy:
Half past "get the hell up"!

Susan Harris:
[telling Foggy about the future offices Nelson and Murdock] You've got a reception area, a conference room and two offices. [Matt enters behind them] Corner suite has a view of the Hudson, you can flip a coin with your partner for it.

Matt:
Uh, he can have the view.

Susan:
[turns, realizes Matt is blind] I'm so sorry. I didn't...

Matt:
[smiles] Of course not.

Susan:
Susan Harris, Midtown Property Solution. [sticks her hand out]

Matt:
Matt Murdock. [Susan remembers he can't see her hand and pulls it back, curtsying awkwardly]

Foggy:
She just curtsied. It was adorable.

[debating whether to take Karen Page as their first client]

Foggy:
All right, I'm just gonna say this once and we can move on. You don't necessarily show the best judgment when beautiful women are involved.

Matt:
How would I even know if she's a beautiful woman?

Foggy:
I don't know. It's kinda spooky, actually. But if there's a stunning woman with questionable character in the room, Matt Murdock's gonna find her and Foggy Nelson is gonna suffer.

[Matt and Foggy show up at an interrogation room where Karen is being held for questioning]

Karen Page:
Who the hell are you guys?

Matt:
I'm Matt. He's Foggy. [Foggy smiles and nods]

Karen:
Who sent you?

Matt:
No one sent us.

Karen:
So…what? You're a couple of good Samaritans? Today's just my lucky day?

Foggy:
[shrugs] I…bribed the desk sergeant with a box of cigars. For his mom.

Matt:
Our practice is relatively young, Ms. Page, and we are aggressively pursuing new clientele. [to Foggy] Stop giving Bess cigars.

Foggy:
She likes to smoke, man. It's a free country.

Karen:
How long have you been practicing law?

Matt:
What time is it?

Foggy:
It's 12:22 AM.

Matt:
About seven hours.

Foggy:
Well, if you go from when we passed the bar...

Matt:
I was going from when we got our own desks.

Foggy:
Oh, then, yeah. Seven hours.

Leland Owlsley:
Heroes and their consequences are why we have our current opportunities.

Foggy:
Could you, could you hear me just now?

Karen:
Nope.

Foggy:
The correct answer is "Yes, and you sound amazing."

Karen:
Well, of the two lies, I took the lesser.

Josie:
[to Karen] You could do so much better, love.

Foggy:
Thank you, Josie, but this is my employee for your information, and we are not on a date. [Looks at Karen] Are we on a date?

Karen:
Definitely not.

Foggy:
Okay, good because I was starting to worry you might be in love with me. What other explanation could there be? You hang around my office all day.

Karen:
Well, I'm your secretary, Foggy.

Foggy:
You refuse to leave. You're always at your desk.

Karen:
I'm a good secretary!

Foggy:
No. You gaze at me lovingly when you think I'm not looking. [Karen laughs] What? You might. How would I know? I'm not looking.

Claire Temple:
I found a man who needed help, so I helped him.

Matt:
Oh yeah? That simple?

Claire:
[glances at unconscious Russian] Do you really want to get into this in front of him?

Matt:
He's out.

Claire:
Maybe he's faking.

Matt:
[listens] He's not.

Claire:
Okay, that right there? That's what I'm talking about. Okay, I find a guy in a dumpster who turns out to be some kind of blind vigilante who can do all of this really weird shit like smell cologne through walls and sense whether someone's unconscious or faking it. Slap on top of that, he can take an unbelievable amount of punishment without one damn complaint.

Matt:
The last part's the Catholicism.

Jack Murdock:
[into his wife's answering machine] Hey, it's, uh, it's me. I'm about to go do something…well, I'm about to go be me. You know better than anybody that doesn't always go so well. I don't know how this is gonna go, but if I were a betting man, Matty's gonna need you. More than ever. Look after him, okay? And I know what I'm asking here, but he's a good kid. He sure as hell didn't get that from me. So it's better this way. Just once, I want Matty to hear people cheer for his old man. Just once.

Claire:
So, what? I'm supposed to take it on faith I'm on the right side of this?

Matt:
You don't carry a masked man bleeding to death into your apartment on faith. You knew which side you were on the moment you found me. Why'd you help me, Claire?

Claire:
I'm a nurse. Work the ER at Metro-General. A few weeks ago, cops bring in three men. Said they were robbing tourists, beating them up pretty bad. Apparently, a man in a black mask took issue with their activities and decided to step in. I counted nine broken bones between them. A few days after that, EMTs bring in a 19-year-old waitress, said some guy she knew waited for her after work in the parking lot, attacked her, tried to drag her in the alley. She said she screamed and screamed, and a man in a black mask heard her and he saved her life. So, yeah, word's getting around. And I want to believe in what you're doing.

[Matt and Foggy are arguing whether or not they should defend Healy]

Matt:
You're the one that keeps saying we need real clients.

Foggy:
That's not a client. It's a shark in a skin suit.

[Matt delivers a closing statement at Healy's trial]

Matt:
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, forgive me if I seem distracted. I've been preoccupied of late with, uh, questions of morality. Of right and wrong, good and evil. Sometimes the delineation between the two is a sharp line. Sometimes it's a blur, and often it's like pornography: you just know when you see it. A man is dead. I don't mean to make light of that, but these questions... these questions are vital ones because they tether us to each other, to humanity. Not everyone feels this way. Not everyone sees the sharp line, only the blur. A man is dead. Um, a man is dead. And my client, John Healy, took his life. This is not in dispute. It is a matter of record, of fact, and facts have no moral judgment. They merely state what is. Not what we think of them, not what we feel. They just are. What was in my client's heart when he took Mr. Prohaszka's life, whether he is a good man or something else entirely, is irrelevant. These questions of good and evil, as important as they are, have no place in a court of law. Only the facts matter. My client claims he acted in self-defense. Mr. Prohaszka's associates have refused to make a statement regarding the incident. The only other witness, a frightened young woman, has stated that my client was pleasant and friendly, and that she only saw the struggle with Mr. Prohaszka after it had started. Those are the facts. Based on these and these alone, the prosecution has failed to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that my client was not acting solely in self-defense. And those, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, are the facts. My client, based purely on the sanctity of the law which we've all sworn an oath to uphold, must be acquitted of these charges. Now, beyond that, beyond these walls... he may well face a judgement of his own making. But here, in this courtroom, the judgement is yours and yours alone.

Owlsley:
You've lost your strong-arm and the tape. You got nothing on juror eight now.

James Wesley:
She's only a piece of the puzzle.

Owlsley:
You ever try putting a puzzle together with a piece missing? It's damned aggravating.

[Healy has just given up Wilson Fisk's name to Matt]

John Healy:
You think this is still about you? I gave up his name. You don't do that, not to him. He'll find me... and make an example... and then he'll find everyone I've ever cared about... and do the same to them... so that no one ever does what I just did. You should have just killed me. You coward. [turns and impales his head through a spike]

[Fisk is staring at a painting in an art gallery - it is made up of layers of textured white. Vanessa approaches him.]

Vanessa Marianna:
There's an old children's joke. You hold up a white piece of paper and you ask, "What's this?" A rabbit in a snowstorm. You interested or just looking?

Wilson Fisk:
Interested.

Vanessa:
People always ask me how can we charge so much for what amounts to gradations of white. I tell them it's not about the artist's name or the skill required, not even about the art itself. All that matters is "How does it make you feel?"

Fisk:
It makes me feel alone.

Karen:
What? So that's it?

Ben Urich:
Stories like this are built on sources, Miss Page. Credible sources. I did some digging into your, uh... past activities.

Karen:
Well, I did some digging, too. I read every big story with your byline. The VA kickbacks, toxic runoff, the Teachers Union scandal. Hell, you pretty much brought down the Italian mob back when I was in diapers! What ever happened to that reporter, Mr. Urich?

Ben:
He got old. And a hell of a lot less stupid.

Vanessa:
How are you enjoying "Rabbit in a Snowstorm"?

Fisk:
You remember.

Vanessa:
Of course. It's one of my favorite pieces.

Fisk:
I hung it in my bedroom. It's the last thing I see every night.

Vanessa:
That's either very romantic or very sad.

Fisk:
I like to tell myself it's the former.

Vanessa:
The city's really changing.

Fisk:
Not fast enough.

Vanessa:
I don't know. Be a shame to see all the character scrubbed away.

Fisk:
You didn't grow up here, did you?

Vanessa:
[laughs] What gave it away?

Fisk:
When I was a kid, I used to dream what it would be like to, to live somewhere far away from Hell's Kitchen. Somewhere beautiful.

Vanessa:
What made you stay?

Fisk:
I didn't. When I was 12 years old, my mother, she sent me to stay with relatives. Had a farm, middle of nowhere. Those were good years.

Vanessa:
But you came back.

Fisk:
Yes. Time and distance, they afford a certain clarity. I realized that this city was a part of me, that it was in my blood. And I would do anything to make it a better place for people like you.

Fisk:
A woman that can be bought isn't worth having.

Wesley:
They say the past is etched in stone, but it isn't. It's smoke trapped in a closed room, swirling, changing. Buffeted by the passing of years and wishful thinking. But even though our perception of it changes, one thing remains constant. The past can never be completely erased. It lingers. Like the scent of burning wood.

Claire:
You have X-ray fingers now?

Matt:
I can hear your bones shift when you breathe. No grinding means nothing's broken.

Claire:
What does a hairline fracture sound like?

Matt:
[pause] An old ship?

[they both smile]

Claire:
How do you…I mean, I know that you're blind, but you see so much. How?

Matt:
I guess you have to think of it as more than just five senses. I can't see, not like everyone else, but I can feel. Things like balance and direction. Micro-changes in air density, vibrations, blankets of temperature variations. Mix all that with what I hear, subtle smells. All of the fragments form a sort of impressionistic painting.

Claire:
Okay, but what does that look like? Like, what do you actually see?

Matt:
[pause] A world on fire.

Claire:
If all I saw was fire, I'd probably want to hit people too.

Owlsley:
Where are the Smiley Twins? Sleeping off another kidnapping?

Fisk:
The Ranskahovs are no longer a part of this organization.

Owlsley:
Since when?

Fisk:
Since I removed Anatoly's head with my car door.

Karen:
[smacks the new photocopier in frustration] UGH! Gosh! You don't make any sense!

Foggy:
[amused] Whoa, be nice to it! You know, for when the machines take over.

Karen:
[smiles] I can't get any of this crap I bought to work!

Foggy:
Bad time to mention the phones? All I hear when I try to dial is a bunch of clicks. Could be the machines plotting, but I don't speak computer overlord.

Karen:
No, it's the rats.

Foggy:
The who what now? [Matt comes in]

Karen:
[scoffs] They chewed through the main line. Phone guy's working on it now. Exterminator's Monday.

Foggy:
We have rats now? I'm never sleeping here again!

Matt:
Then there's an upside.

Vanessa:
So why does a man like you feel alone?

Fisk:
Nature of my business, I suppose.

Vanessa:
And what kind of business is that?

Fisk:
Rebuilding this city. I want to carve something beautiful out of its ugliness…set free its potential.

Vanessa:
You sound like an artist.

Fisk:
I'm just a man with a dream.

Vanessa:
What do you think an artist is? [indicating his cufflinks] Are those the only ones you have? You were wearing them last time.

Fisk:
They were my father's. I wear them every day to remember him.

Vanessa:
Did he pass?

Fisk:
When I was a boy. May I ask you something now?

Vanessa:
I'd say you've earned it.

Fisk:
What kind of gun is that you have in your purse?

Vanessa:
It's a .22.

Fisk:
Did you think you would need that tonight?

Vanessa:
We've been sitting here talking for hours and you're going to insult me like I have no idea what you really do?

Fisk:
What I said about what I want for this city is the truth. But money and influence is not enough to usher change on such a scale. Sometimes it requires force.

Vanessa:
I know you're a dangerous man. That's why I brought a gun to a dinner date.

Fisk:
Would you like to leave?

Vanessa:
No. I'd like a reason to stay.

Fisk:
I've done things that I'm not proud of, Vanessa. I've hurt people and I'm going to hurt more. It's impossible to avoid for what I'm trying to do. But I take no pleasure in it, in cruelty. But this city isn't a caterpillar. It doesn't spin a cocoon and wake up a butterfly. A city crumbles and fades. It needs to die before it can be reborn.

Vanessa:
So I don't need the gun?

Fisk:
No. By my side is the safest place that you could ever be.

Claire:
Why don't you go to the police with all that you have on the Russians?

Matt:
I wear a mask and beat on people. Doesn't exactly mesh with police policy.

[Matt has just brought Vladimir to an abandoned building]

Matt:
Don't move. You've been shot. [Vladimir curses in Russian] That sounds pretty bad, but I don't speak asshole.

Foggy:
[Watching footage of the explosion] Jesus, look at this. It's like a war zone out there. We better call Matt and make sure he's okay. [Takes out his phone]

Karen:
Foggy, you're bleeding.

Foggy:
Huh? [looks and notices that his shirt is indeed soaked with blood] Oh, that explains it.

Karen:
Explains what?

Foggy:
The stabbing pain in my side.

[Matt needs to treat Vladimir's bullet wound, so he calls Claire]

Matt:
I need your help. I found someone who has intel on what I've been looking for, but he's been shot.

Claire:
So call 911!

Matt:
Can't. Police are the ones that shot him. I'm thinking they'd like a crack at finishing the job.

Claire:
Do you want me to come out to you? In all this?

Matt:
No. I want you to walk me through stabilizing him.

Claire:
It's not as easy as it looks in the movies, you know?

Matt:
I don't really go to the movies. I like records, though.

Fisk:
[Over the police radio] I'd like to speak to the man in the mask, please.

Matt:
[Picks the radio] Hello.

Fisk:
Are you there? Can you hear me?

Matt:
Who is this?

Fisk:
I think you know. You've been asking about me. I thought it was time we spoke.

Matt:
Say your name.

Fisk:
You first.

[Matt hesitates]

Fisk:
That's what I thought. You and I have a lot in common.

Matt:
We're nothing alike.

Fisk:
That's what you'll tell yourself.

Matt:
You're feeding off this city like a cancer.

Fisk:
I want to save this city, like you. Only on a scale that matters.

Matt:
Now tell that to the people you've hurt.

Fisk:
Young man, life is not a fairy tale. Not everyone deserves a happy ending.

Matt:
I'm gonna find you, and I'm gonna make you pay for what you've done.

Fisk:
No, you are not. Not that I don't admire what you're trying to do, to change the world, with nothing but desire and your own two hands, secure in the knowledge that you're doing the right thing, the only thing. That's something that I do understand. But we both can't have what we want. So, your part, in this drama, by necessity, comes to an end.

Matt:
It's gonna take a lot more than a voice on a radio to stop me.

Fisk:
It's not me you need to worry about. It's the city you just blew the hell out of.

Matt:
[chuckles] You... You think anyone's gonna believe that?

Fisk:
You're running around in a mask, holing up with a known felon in the wake of a series of bombings. There's that police officer you're holding hostage, so... yes. Actually, I do. But it doesn't have to be this way. The Russian, is he alive?

Vladimir:
I'm still here, you fat shit!

Matt:
Does that answer your question?

Fisk:
It's a one-time offer. You kill the Russian, and we'll call the night a push. You know what he's done to women. To children. To the people of this city that you claim to care about. But do you know how much he enjoyed it?

Matt:
You just confirmed how important he is. That must worry you, what he might tell me.

Fisk:
Which means he hasn't told you anything yet. You're a child playing at being a hero.

Matt:
No, no, I'm not trying to be a hero. I'm just a guy that got fed up with men like you and I decided to do something about it.

Fisk:
That's what makes you dangerous. It's not the mask. It's not the skills. It's your ideology. The lone man who thinks he can make a difference. I'm glad we could talk. I, I respect your conviction even if it runs counter with my own.

[In a flashback, Matt and Stick are on a park bench, eating ice cream]

Young Matt Murdock:
So what kind of training is this?

Stick:
You like ice cream?

Young Matt:
Yeah.

Stick:
Then shut up and eat it. I'll ask the questions. First thing you gotta understand is nobody feels sorry for you and nobody ever will. 'Cause when it comes to being born lucky you won the friggin' lottery.

Young Matt:
I did?

Stick:
[Smacks him with his cane] What did I say about questions?

Young Matt:
"Shut up."

Stick:
Good. How old were you when you got blinded?

Young Matt:
Nine.

Stick:
Nine? So you had nine whole years of looking at movies, blue skies, up girlies' skirts that I never had. I was born blind. You don't hear me whining about it, do you?

Young Matt:
No.

Stick:
So, you're nine years old, walking along, minding your own business and whammo! Get hit by a truck, killed dead on the spot.

Young Matt:
I wasn't killed.

Stick:
You lived? Praise God, it's a miracle. So you survive the truck and get this chemical shit in your eyes. What next?

Young Matt:
I hear things.

Stick:
What kind of things?

Young Matt:
Everything. Coughs and fights and cats meowing. Sometimes blocks away. I can sense things. I know where things are and when they move. But I can't see.

Stick:
You know what they call stuff like that? Gifts. The special kind. The kind that very few people have. Or deserve.

Young Matt:
I never thought of it that way.

Stick:
Well, that's because you're stupid.

Young Matt:
I'm not stupid, I'm smart.

Stick:
Because you taught yourself how to run your little fingers over the bumps and read Braille? Smart don't come out of books, kid. Smart is making the right decision at the right time. Like now. What's it gonna be, Matty? You gonna spend your life crying and rocking yourself to sleep at night? Or are you gonna dig deep and find out what it takes to reshuffle those cards life dealt you? Your call.

Ben:
There are no heroes, no villains. Just people with different agendas.

Young Matt:
No one's bought me ice cream since my dad died.

Stick:
What's it taste like?

Young Matt:
Vanilla.

Stick:
[scoffs] Everybody can taste vanilla. Pay a little more attention, use those gifts. You know what you got? [sniffs] Sugar grains, vanilla bean, milk from three different dairies from two states... [licks] ugh... batch of chemicals straight off the periodic tables and... [sniffs] dirt off the guy's hand that served it to you. He spent his morning gardening. Whole world around you, Matty, and it is friggin' huge. And all you need... are the guts to let it in. Try. That dog, what's his story?

Young Matt:
He's hungry... his stomach's growling... and he's dying to eat the hot dogs that guy's carrying just upwind of him.

Stick:
Not bad. What about the girl?

Young Matt:
Her skin's... Her skin's too hot. Her heart's beating fast. Is she sick?

Stick:
Worse. She's in love. And the old man?

Young Matt:
He's...He's dying.

Stick:
And there's nothing you can do about it. Big world, not all of it flowers and sunshine. And the only way guys like you and me can survive is to grab it by the throat and never let go.

Young Matt:
My dad. They paid him to lose against Creel. But... But I wanted him to win. So he did because of me. Because of me. I just wanted him to come home.

Stick:
But he didn't and he never will. We all pay for our choices kid. Maybe your old man fought for you, maybe he did it for himself. The only thing you know for sure is he's gone now. But I'm here. Now, get up. Time to stop taking a beating and start giving one.

Stick:
[to Matt] Kid, in war, people die. If it's not you, it's the guy next to you. How many men have you killed protecting this city? You're still afraid to cross that line. Someday, it's gonna come down to you or the other guy. If it's not Fisk, somebody else. What're you gonna do then?

[Fisk wants Detective Hoffman to kill his partner Detective Blake so that Blake won't squeal on Fisk]

Fisk:
I know that you have feelings regarding this matter. I respect that. But if Detective Blake chooses to speak out of turn the result would be unpleasant, for you and for me.

Detective Carl Hoffman:
Out of turn? You shot him!

Wesley:
Technically, we paid someone else to shoot him.

Daredevil:
I didn't blow the hell out of the Russians. And I didn't shoot those cops.

Ben:
So, what? You want me to write your side of this?

Daredevil:
No, I want you to expose the man responsible. The man who's tearing this city apart, piece by piece.

Ben:
You got a name?

Daredevil:
Wilson Fisk.

Ben:
Never heard of him.

Daredevil:
Because he doesn't want you to. That's what makes him dangerous. Living in the shadows, no one knowing who he is.

Ben:
Said the man in the mask.

[After Madame Gao calls Fisk out on pretending to not understand Chinese just so that he could keep Wesley on hand for meetings]

Madame Gao:
It is the clever man who plays the fool. And a foolish woman who does not recognize it.

Ben:
"You get what you deserve." It's an old saying. One that survived the years, because it's true. For the most part. But not for everyone. Some get more than they deserve. Because they believe they aren't like everyone else. That the rules, the ones people like me and you, the people that work and struggle to live our lives, just live, don't apply to them. That they can do anything and live happily ever after, while the rest of us suffer. They do this from the shadows. Shadows that we cast with our indifference. With a pervasive lack of interest in anything that doesn't directly affect us, we, in the here and now. Or maybe it's just the shadow of weariness. Of how tired we are, struggling to claw our way back to a middle class that no longer exist, because of those who take more than they deserve. And they keep taking, until all that's left for the rest of us is a memory of how it used to be before the corporations and the bottom line decided we didn't matter anymore. But we do. You and I, the people of this city, we still matter. There's someone in Hell's Kitchen that doesn't share this belief. He's been among us for quite some time. You've never heard his name. You've never seen his face. He's stayed in the shadows. Because men like him, men that want to control our city, our lives, fear the light and what it reveals. This man must no longer be allowed to operate in the darkness. If he has nothing to hide, let him step forward.

[Fisk calls a press conference]

Fisk:
I'm not very good at this, out, being in public. But I felt the need to speak up for this city that I love with all my heart. No one should have to live in fear. In fear of madmen who have no regard for who they injure. In fear of the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, who has inflicted untold pain and suffering. This masked terrorist and psychopaths of his kind, we must show them we will not bow down to their campaign of coercion and intimidation. We must stand up to them. As this man, my dearest friend, Leland Owlsley, a pillar in the financial community, stood up when he was recently assaulted. But this assault was for no other reason than to send me a message. A message warning me to stop. To give up my dream that I have for this city. A dream of a better place. A place for its citizens to feel safe. To feel pride. I tried to do this quietly, not wanting to draw attention. The last thing I wanted was for anyone close to me to become a target from those who do not share my dream. For those who will have this city stay exactly as it is, mired in poverty and crime. But I know now it was foolish to make that decision. That I can no longer do it alone. That I cannot keep living in the shadows afraid of the light. None of us can. None of us should be forced to. We must do this together. We must resist those who would have us live in fear. My name is Wilson Fisk. And together, we can make this city a better place.

Matt:
Do you believe in the Devil, Father?

Lantom:
You mean... as a concept?

Matt:
No. Do you believe he exists? In this world, among us.

Lantom:
You want the short answer or the long one?

Matt:
Just the truth.

Lantom:
When I was in seminary I was more studious than pious, more skeptical than most of my peers. I had this notion which I was more than willing to speak about, at length, to whoever I could corner, that the Devil was inconsequential. Minor figure in the grand scheme.

Matt:
Not very Catholic of you.

Lantom:
Uh-huh, yeah. In my defense, in the scriptures, the Hebrew word "Satan" actually means "adversary." It's applied to any antagonist. Angels and humans, serpents and kings. Medieval theologians reinterpreted those passages to be about a single monstrous enemy. And, in my youthful zeal, I was certain I knew why: propaganda. Played up to drive people into the church.

Matt:
So you don't believe he exists.

Lantom:
Am I done talking?

Matt:
Sorry.

Lantom:
Years later, I was in Rwanda trying to help local churches provide aid and sanctuary to refugees. I'd become close with the village elder, Gahiji. He and his family had the respect of everybody, Hutu and Tutsi alike. He'd helped them all through famines, disease. The militia liked to force Hutu villagers to murder their neighbors with machetes. But nobody would raise a hand against Gahiji. They said, "Well how can we kill such a holy man?" So the militia commander sent soldiers with orders to cut his head off in front of the entire village. Gahiji didn't try to put up a fight. Just asked for the chance to say goodbye to his family. By the time he was done, even the soldiers didn't wanna kill him. So they went to their commander and asked permission to shoot him. At least give him a quick death. The commander wanted to meet this man who had won the respect of so many. He went to Gahiji. Talked with him in his hut for many hours. Then he dragged him out in front of his village and hacked him to pieces along with his entire family. In that man who took Gahiji's life, I saw the Devil. So yes, Matthew. I believe he walks among us, taking many forms.

Lantom:
I was worried you might've gone out and done something foolish, after our talk this morning.

Matt:
I haven't done anything. Not yet.

Lantom:
Sounds a bit on the ominous side.

Matt:
I went to visit someone close to the... close to the Devil. Not to hurt her, just to get a sense of him. Of who he is and what it would take to... do what I have to.

Lantom:
And... what did you learn?

Matt:
That he has someone he loves... who loves him, who'd mourn his loss.

Lantom:
Mmm-hmm. Few things are absolute, Matthew. Even Lucifer was once an angel. It's why judgment and vengeance... are best left to God. Especially when murder is not in your heart.

Matt:
How do you know?

Lantom:
You're here, aren't you?

Matt:
I know my soul is damned if I take his life. But if I stand idle, if I... if I let him consume this city, all the people that will suffer and die...

Lantom:
There is a wide gulf between inaction and murder, Matthew. Another man's evil does not make you good. Men have used the atrocities of their enemies to justify their own throughout history. So the question you have to ask yourself is: are you struggling with the fact that you don't want to kill this man but have to? Or that you don't have to kill him but want to?

Vanessa:
You don't need sight to appreciate art, but you do need honesty.

Matt:
Sight helps.

Vanessa:
Sure. But there's something very intimate in experiencing art through someone else's eyes. That's a good line, by the way. You should use it.

Vanessa:
So, give me an idea what you're after.

Matt:
I'm not sure.

Vanessa:
Good... art isn't furniture. If you knew exactly what you were looking for, you'd be just decorating. Art should speak to you... move you. [Walks up to a piece] This one, for example. One of my favorite pieces.

Matt:
Describe it to me.

Vanessa:
Imagine a sea of tonal reds. The color of anger... of rage... but also the color of the heart... of love... hope. This strikes the perfect balance between the two.

Matt:
I don't know, it sounds aggressive.

Vanessa:
All depends on your point of view.

Foggy:
Okay, so you get these whatever-you-call-thems when you're a kid. How do you go from that to what you're doing now?

Matt:
When I was a kid, before the accident…I'd lay awake at night listening to the sirens. I liked to put stories to them. Trying to figure out what they were for, ambulance or cops, robbery or fire. I don't know, just a stupid game. But after I lost my sight, after my abilities developed, I realized how many sirens there actually were…how much this city suffered every single night.

Foggy:
You've been running around doing this since you were a kid?

Matt:
No. I…I tried not to fight…to make my dad proud. To…to block it out. The sirens, the pain, the fear, all strangling Hell's Kitchen. For years, I buried my head and turned away. Then one night, right after we quit Landman & Zack…I heard it.

Foggy:
Heard what?

Matt:
A little girl. Crying in her bed, in a building down the block. Her father liked to go to her room late at night…when his wife was asleep.

Foggy:
[horrified] Oh, Jesus.

Matt:
I called Child Services. Like you're supposed to. But the mom, she wouldn't believe it. Said it wasn't true. And the dad, he was smart. [scoffs] He made sure what he did, how he did it, didn't leave a mark. The law couldn't do anything to help that little girl. But I could. [Matt is shown beating said father senseless] He spent the next month in a hospital, eating through a straw. And I never slept better.

Foggy:
We are both one day gonna be fine, upstanding members of the legal profession. El grande…how do you say "lawyers" in Spanish?

Matt:
Lawyers? Abogados.

Foggy:
El grande avocados!

Matt:
[laughs] That's not Spanish, that's fruit.

Foggy:
Pfft. It's a vegetable at best.

Gao:
There is conflict within you.

Fisk:
Conflict?

Gao:
Man cannot be both savior and oppressor, light and shadow. One has to be sacrificed for the other. Choose and choose wisely. Or others shall choose for you.

Foggy:
You're going to get yourself killed, you keep this up. You know that, right?

Matt:
I can take care of myself.

Foggy:
What about the rest of us? Me, Karen…we're a part of this now, because of you. And we didn't get a say in that.

Matt:
What do you think's gonna happen if I give up now, Foggy? Who's going to stop Fisk?

Foggy:
Oh, I don't know. The law?

Matt:
Tell that to Elena. [pause] If you could have put on a mask and prevented what happened to her…you telling me you wouldn't have?

Foggy:
It's not fair, Matt.

Matt:
We don't live in a world that's fair. We live in this one.

[Owlsley talks with Fisk about Nobu's fight with the man in the mask]

Owlsley:
You burned him alive? Christ.

Fisk:
I never laid a hand on Nobu.

Owlsley:
So, you maneuvered that masked idiot to take him out. Same result.

Fisk:
I need you to speak with Gao.

Owlsley:
Me? The hell am I gonna say to her?

Fisk:
Reassure her everything is fine.

Owlsley:
So, you want me to lie.

Wesley:
Mmm, you weren't particularly fond of Nobu. You thought he was unsettling, if I recall.

Owlsley:
I think you're unsettling half the time. See me lighting a match?

Karen:
You think someone's trying to kill Fisk?

Ben:
I've been writing about crime in this city since before you were born. The only thing I know without a doubt is you don't get to be the man at the top without making enemies looking to tear you down to the ground.

Lantom:
I have a pretty good idea who you are and what you do. How you do it… That's something else entirely.

Matt:
Accident when I was a kid. Used to think it was God's will.

Lantom:
Used to?

Matt:
Yeah, He made each and every one of us with a purpose, didn't He? A reason for being.

Lantom:
I believe so, yes.

Matt:
Then why did He put the Devil in me? Why do I feel it in my heart and my soul clawing to be let out if that's not all part of God's plan?

Lantom:
Maybe you're being called to summon the better angels of your nature. Maybe that's the struggle you're feeling deep within you.

Matt:
And how do you know the angels and the Devil inside me aren't the same thing?

Lantom:
I don't, but nothing drives people to the church faster than the thought of the Devil snapping at their heels. Maybe that was God's plan all along. Why He created him, allowed him to fall from grace to become a symbol to be feared warning to us all, to tread the path of the righteous.

Karen:
Isn't it a bit early for beer?

Matt:
Depends what kind of day you're having.

Wesley:
Reach out to Gao.

Owlsley:
Me? What if she's the one who did all this?

Wesley:
Well, you said you didn't think it was her.

Owlsley:
What the hell do I know? I was almost poisoned. I'm not thinking straight.

Wesley:
Speak with Gao... if she wasn't involved, we might need her support against further unpleasantries.

Owlsley:
And if she was involved?

Wesley:
Then it's been an honor doing business with you.

Wesley:
Do you love this city?

Karen:
I, I, um, haven't been here long enough.

Wesley:
Huh. I find a few days, a week at most, is ample time to form an emotional response. Growing to love something is really simply forgetting slowly what you dislike about it. I'll be perfectly honest, the situation calls for it, I do not love this city. The crush of the unwashed garbage stacked on the sidewalk, the air that seems to adhere to your skin, the layer of filth you can never completely wash away.

Karen:
Maybe you should move.

[. . .]

[after Wesley leaves his gun on the table, Karen summons up enough strength to grab it and point it at him]

Wesley:
[bluffing] Do you really think I would put a loaded gun on the table where you could reach it?

Karen:
I don't know. [cocks it] Do you really think this is the first time I've shot someone?

Wesley:
Miss Page—

[Karen calls Wesley's bluff and shoots him in the right shoulder; he stares at her in shock, and she puts six more rounds into his chest, killing him]

Fisk:
It's a difficult thing, isn't it? Taking a life. Feeling the weight and responsibility of all the years the person you've murdered has lived—moments that they've cherished, the dreams that they've struggled towards—gone, because of you. I want you to know something. Something important that I've learned: that it gets easier the more you do it.

Matt:
Did something happen?

Karen:
Yes. The world fell apart. Didn't you notice?

Ben:
Run the article. It'll sell papers, it's sexy.

Mitchell Ellison:
You sound like a whore.

Ben:
Well, I learned how to be one from you. I get lucky sometimes, sure. Land a story that makes a difference, like Union Allied. But most of the time, now, working for this paper... I might as well be wearing lipstick and a red dress.

Owlsley:
So, what's our play here?

Gao:
The wheel constantly turns. We must adapt to its position, or be crushed beneath it.

Owlsley:
What? Where the hell are you going?

Gao:
I will visit my homeland and reflect upon the future.

Owlsley:
Home? China?

Gao:
It is a considerable distance farther.

Owlsley:
Wind blows the hardest the closer you get to the mountain top.

Doris:
[to Ben] You never needed that man. You never needed that paper. You only ever needed a story. Go tell it.

[Fisk has broken into Ben's apartment]

Ben:
People seek the truth no matter where they find it.

Fisk:
That may have been the case when you and I were young. This world around us is preoccupied with celebrity weddings and videos of cats. But complicated issues, issues that matter? They take too much focus. They take too much time away from texting and the thousand channels on the satellite dish.

Ben:
Guess I have more faith in humanity.

Fisk:
Ah. So did Christ, if I recall. I'll go. Just one more thing: Were you alone when you spoke to my mother?

Ben:
[realizing] Your guy at the Bulletin?

Fisk:
Yes, I received a call that was upsetting. Were you alone?

Ben:
Yeah. I was alone.

Fisk:
Wesley, was that you?

Ben:
Wesley?

Fisk:
Yes, I didn't think so. You're a man of principle, of conviction. I understand that, I even admire it. But you went after my mother. That's not something that I can forgive.

Ben:
I wrote a lot of stories in my years pushing ink. You know how many times people have threatened me get me to keep my mouth shut?

Fisk:
[seething with rage] But this is my mother that you brought into this, Mr. Urich. My mother! So I am not here to threaten you. I'm here to kill you. [He suddenly stands up and grabs Urich by the neck. Urich struggles. Fisk throws him to the ground and chokes him to death with his bare hands]

[at Ben's funeral]

Lantom:
How you holding up?

Matt:
Like a good Catholic boy.

Lantom:
That bad, huh?

Owlsley:
I've spent my entire life hiding assets overseas for pricks like you. My son and I will be just another transaction, disappearing into the tax-exempt ether. But I'm the fair sort. That's why I'm only taking half your money. You go your way, I go mine. Not what I'd call "win-win", but it's as close as we're gonna get with this. So. We on the same page?

Fisk:
I, uh... No. I don't think we are!

Matt:
I thought "Nelson and Murdock" were over...

Foggy:
There's nothing I want more than to find a way back to where we were, but... I don't know if we can.

Matt:
No, we can't. But maybe we can find a way to move forward, Foggy.

Fisk:
I was thinking about a story from the Bible.

FBI Guard 1:
Did I tell you to open your mouth?

FBI Guard 2:
Let 'im talk. Don't mean nothin'.

Fisk:
I'm not a religious man, but I've read bits and pieces over the years. Curiosity more than faith. But this one story… There was a man, he was traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho when he was set upon by men of ill intent. They stripped the traveler of his clothes, they beat him, and they left him bleeding in the dirt. And a priest happened by, saw the traveler, but he moved to the other side of the road and continued on. And a Levite, a religious functionary, he came to the place, saw the dying traveler, but he, too, moved to the other side of the road, passed him by. But then came a man from Samaria, a Samaritan, a good man. He saw the traveler bleeding in the road and he stopped to aid him without thinking of the circumstance or the difficulty it might bring him. The Samaritan tended to the traveler's wounds, applying oil and wine, and he carried him to an inn, gave him all the money he had for the owner to take care of the traveler, as the Samaritan, he continued on his journey. He did this simply because the traveler was his neighbor. He loved his city and all the people in it. I always thought that I was the Samaritan in that story. It's funny, isn't it? How even the best of men can be deceived by their true nature.

FBI Agent 1:
What the hell does that mean?

Fisk:
It means that I'm not the Samaritan, that I'm not the priest or the Levite…that I am the ill intent who set upon the traveler on a road that he should not have been on!

Sgt. Brett Mahoney:
The way things are going around here, I'm thinking about taking an early pension. Move my mom somewhere warm.

Matt:
Be a shame. The only cop on the force we know for sure is honest.

Mahoney:
Never see Serpico? Honest cops are usually the ones get shot in the face.

Fisk:
I wanted to make this city... something better than it is. Something beautiful. YOU TOOK THAT AWAY FROM ME! YOU TOOK EVERYTHING! I'M GONNA KILL YOU!

Daredevil:
Take your shot.

Fisk:
[as he thrashes Daredevil] This city doesn't deserve a better tomorrow! It deserves to drown in its filth! It deserves people like my father! People like you!

Daredevil:
[suddenly blocking his attack] This is my city! My family!

Fisk:
[defeated; laughs at Daredevil] You really think…you can change anything? You think, one man, a silly look costume, will make a difference…? [Daredevil knocks him down]