Marvel's Daredevil

May your neighbors respect you...

trouble neglect you...

the angels protect you...

and heaven accept you. Mmm?

- - To better days.

Cheers. Cheers.

Hey! Hey, hey, hey. Hey, who is that guy?

Easy, lads. Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Finn.

Caught the first flight soon as I heard.

Yeah...

Terrible circumstances.

But it sure is good to see you.

- Be a good lad. -

Go fetch our friend Finn a drink.

It's Rory...

isn't it?

This is him, then?

I didn't want him to follow my footsteps...

but he insisted.

He came over to make his fortune and now, look.

Two cents to his name.

He was a good kid, Finn.

And now he's dead.

You know, maybe you've been out of the game too long to remember.

Death... is part of the deal.

Leave it, leave it.

Holy shit.

- -

Jesus...

Cheers.

Yous all all right, yeah?

- Oh, yeah. - Yeah?

Yeah.

Now, this bloody shooter,

he stole $1.2 million of my money.

Man takes my son. I lose a boy.

He takes my money.

I'm getting it back.

We will beat every mother's son in this city

till I have my money in my hands,

and this shooter's on his knees, alive.

Or there'll be more of you shining the inside of a box!

Do you hear me?

- - Get out!

- Get out! Move! Let's go! -

- -

That bastard shooter that massacred our brothers.

- Where is he? - I don't know!

New faces.

Military training.

- Think fast! - I don't know! Wait, wait!

Wait! I might have seen one guy!

Hey, excuse me! Yeah, you. How's it going, huh?

- Oh, Jesus. - You having a good day?

- We're looking for a customer. -

- What? - Wears a jacket...

even in the middle of summer, or so they say.

I... I mean...

- -

Now, I count two ankles, two knees, one elbow.

And guess what? I got five more rounds.

I don't...

I think I know. Has a dog, right?

Came in here. I even saw him walk it once.

Elaborate.

- - Aw.

Sit.

Search the closets.

Dog's one of ours. This is the place.

- Nah, it's empty. - Find my goddamn money.

You heard him. Let's go!

He's not one for fancy living, is he?

- Pull that up. -

Shut that damn dog up!

- Hey! Knock it off! -

Uh, nothing... but it ain't money.

The money's not here.

That's who you are.

Move it.

- Hi. - Hey.

- I'm just about ready. - Okay.

- Uh, here, let me help with that. - Oh, thanks.

- It's okay. - Oh.

- - Sorry.

- You okay? - Yeah.

I'm just, uh...

recovering.

From what?

I don't really know the name for it.

But... you're feeling better?

Yeah.

Now.

With you.

Not that I can verify, but you seem good at this.

Uh, well, my brother wasn't, so that's where I came in.

You never said you had a brother.

Uh... you never asked.

- Uh, thank you. - Mmm.

Come on. It's about time.

"Precious in the eyes of the Lord...

is the death of his saints."

Well...

Elliot Grote was no saint.

He was human...

deeply flawed.

Every Sunday, for as far as I remember...

Elliot would come here...

friendless and alone...

to sit.

Right there in that pew.

Often, I would see him take...

whatever money he had...

crumpled one hundreds, loose change...

a Rolex watch one time...

and put it in the collection plate...

hoping for redemption.

Which would never come.

Praying for the light...

but Elliot died still in the dark...

with no one to mourn his loss...

except the three of you.

And so, we might say...

one life gone...

one sinful life...

but one person is not just one person.

In each of us, there is a world...

webbing out, reaching others.

Creating reactions.

Sometimes equal...

sometimes opposite.

We rush to say, one life gone...

but each of us is a world.

And today,

a world has been lost.

We didn't know him well, but I...

never loved the idea of letting anyone die alone.

He... He wasn't alone?

They found him surrounded by knocked out Dogs of Hell, right?

I get all the bad guys confused these days.

Didn't think it could get much worse out there, the violence, but...

What if I meet you back at the office? I'm just gonna take a minute here.

Yeah, sure.

- It was a nice sermon. - Thank you.

Most priests would have found something kind to say about the man himself, but...

- - I said he came to church.

Nothing shines up a halo faster than a death, Matthew.

But funerals are for the living...

and revising history...

only dilutes the lessons we should learn from it.

It wasn't my fault.

- What wasn't? - Grotto's death.

- No one said it was. - Yeah.

There's a new man in town, he's, uh...

killing people in cold blood.

Yeah, I read about what happened with the Irish.

Must have been a... busy couple nights.

Yeah, I did everything I could to...

uh, protect my client.

- That work is done, Matthew. - Because I failed.

At least you tried.

Well, like you said, his life had value.

A whole world's been lost and others are dying one after the other...

Matthew, what are you looking for?

- Forgiveness. - For what?

Uh... not doing more?

You just said you did everything you could.

If you're the man I understand you to be, I'm sure that's true.

Then why do I still feel guilty?

Guilt can be a good thing.

It's the soul's call to action.

The indication that...

something is wrong.

The only way...

to rid your heart of it...

is to correct your mistakes and keep going...

until amends are made.

I don't know what you didn't do or what you should have done...

but the guilt...

the guilt...

means your work is not yet finished.

Thank you.

He's lucky to be alive.

This is all of the stuff that the DA's collecting for her case.

And most of it's about the Punisher's victims.

The Dogs of Hell, the cartel...

But this was in the middle of it.

Not someone he shot, him.

He's insane. Maybe he shot himself.

I thought about that, but at that close of a range...

Yeah, he'd be dead already.

Okay, not to go all tin-foil hat here,

but Tower obviously slipped this to me for a reason.