Sic Semper Systema: Daredevil Breaks, Fisk Eats, and Everything Still Bleeds

(Because when the system fails, the masks come back on.)

🛑 SPOILERS AHEAD.
If you haven’t watched Episode 4 of Daredevil: Born Again, go do that.
Then come back here.
Because we're about to talk about trauma, blood art, Daredevil’s guilt tears, Kingpin’s complicated marriage, Skrull conspiracies, and the birth of a new nightmare.
You’ve been warned.

The System Is Broken, And So Is Matt

We open on the aftermath of failure. On plastic and paperwork and silence.
An evidence bag, center frame. A body on a slab. Hector Ayala—White Tiger—is dead.

And the cops? They couldn’t even be bothered to find the bullet casing. Why?
Because to them, he’s not a victim. He’s not a hero.
He’s a “cop killer.”

Matt Murdock knows better. He knows Hector died trying to protect people. He knows the system is already closing the case like it's just another dirty footnote.

And you can see it in Matt’s face: the restraint is slipping.
He tells Hector’s niece, “Someone will find his killer.”
But you can hear the real truth in what he doesn’t say:
He means himself.
He means Daredevil.

And boom—just like that, the episode has you.
Because now it’s not a question of if Matt’s going to put the mask back on.
It’s a question of how soon.

Then we cut to the walls. And the city is already telling its own story.

A massive street art piece of Wilson Fisk, showing his dual identity—mayor and crime lord, both at once.
The money-patterned suit blending into the flames of the underworld.
The word KING over the skyline.
The word PIN buried in fire.

And in the bottom corner, the signature:

MUSE.

Muse’s work has been in the background all season, but now? It’s front and center. A clear message scrawled across the city:

We know who you are, Fisk. We see you.

And then—before we even have time to process it—cut to the subway.

The Street Art That Bleeds

The Kingpin mural was a warning shot. A reminder that no matter how much Wilson Fisk tries to play the role of the respectable mayor, his past is painted onto the walls of the city.

But Muse?

Muse isn’t just sending a message. He’s making a statement.

We cut from Fisk’s two-faced mural straight to the bleeding-eyed mask moving through the subway.

The body he’s carrying? Not struggling.
Not moving.
Just… a canvas.

Muse doesn’t just kill. He creates.
And the way the scene is framed—with no dialogue, no sound beyond the rumbling of the train—it tells us everything we need to know.

Muse doesn’t need to say anything.
His work does the talking for him.
And Hell’s Kitchen? It’s about to become his gallery.

This is one of the most unsettling villain introductions in the entire MCU because it doesn’t rely on theatrics. No monologues, no dramatic standoffs—just a quiet, methodical act of horror.

We don’t know who the body is yet.
We don’t know what he’s planning.
But we do know this:

• Muse has been leaving his signature in the background all season.

• This isn’t random—he’s been waiting. Watching.

• And now? He’s stepping into the light.

The question isn’t what he wants.

The question is who’s next.

The Skrull, the Journalist, and the Club That Talked Too Much

Let’s rewind for a second.

Before Daniel found himself in front of Fisk’s very dangerous desk, he was doing something… questionable.

Partying. At a gay club. With BB.

Which, in and of itself? Fine. Party on, my guy.
Except—here’s the problem: BB is a journalist. And BB? Does. Not. Stop. Listening.

Loose lipped, a skrull… or both? ;)

Daniel gets too drunk. Too loose-lipped.

And somewhere between the shots and the dancing, he lets something slip about a corporate recycling project Fisk is pushing to solve the trash strike.

Harmless, right? Wrong.

Because BB runs with it. And suddenly, the press is calling Fisk a union buster.
That’s not just bad optics. That’s political napalm.

Oh—and did we mention?

In the comics, Daniel Blake was a martian.
A shapeshifting alien who infiltrated government ranks.

So maybe… just maybe… this isn’t just about loose lips.
Maybe Daniel isn’t just a loyal young political hopeful with a drinking problem.
Maybe he’s a Skrull, laying the groundwork for a much bigger infiltration plot.

Probably not.
But then again… they did mention Skrulls out loud this episode.

Just saying.

Kingpin’s World: Love, Lies, and Loyalty Tests

Wilson Fisk is trying to be someone new.

Mayor. Public figure. A man with power that doesn’t come from fear and bloodshed.

But power? Power always comes with a cost.

And in this episode, that cost is Vanessa.

A Therapy Session That Feels Like a Standoff

Fisk and Vanessa, sitting in front of their therapist.

The conversation is polite. Measured. Controlled. But underneath? It’s war.

Fisk is furious that Vanessa betrayed him—not just with another man, but by moving on at all.
Vanessa, though? She’s not backing down.

“I didn’t know if you were ever coming back.”

And then, the gut punch:

“My father used to disappear for weeks at a time. You left. Just like he did.”

That’s the moment. The shift.

Because for all of Fisk’s calculations, control, and manipulation—he never saw this coming.
He never thought Vanessa would compare him to the man who abandoned her.

For a second, he looks genuinely hurt.

And then?

He lets it slip.

“I had a conversation with Adam.”

And just like that, the tension snaps.

The therapist visibly tenses. Vanessa doesn’t even react—doesn’t ask what happened.
She already knows.
And instead of fear, she just accepts it.

“Do You Feel Safe?”

The therapist pulls Vanessa aside, her voice low, careful.

“Do you feel safe?”

And Vanessa?

“Wilson Fisk is not capable of hurting me.”

Now that is chilling.

Because it’s not the denial of someone who doesn’t see the danger.
It’s the certainty of someone who has already chosen a side.

Fisk’s Other Problem: A Drunken Slip, A Loyalty Test

Meanwhile, Fisk has a different kind of betrayal to deal with.

He calls his entire team into the room.

There’s no yelling, no immediate accusations. But everyone in that room knows what’s coming.

The press got ahold of a story about Fisk union-busting to handle the garbage strike.
And someone in this room let it slip.

Fisk leans forward. His voice is calm.

“Which one of you failed me?”

His chief aide shakes her head, cuts in fast.

“He’s mine. I’ll take whatever punishment.”

And that’s when Fisk really gets interested.

“You’re going to go down with the ship? That’s fine.”

Everyone else is watching, waiting for the execution.

Then Daniel speaks up.

And he does something no one expected.

“It was me.”

“I got drunk, I ran my mouth, I screwed up. I know I’ll be fired. I deserve it. But I just want to say this: even after you fire me, I’ll still be your biggest supporter.”

“This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and I know I lost it. But I still believe in you, Mr. Fisk.”

That’s when everything shifts.

Fisk pauses. This isn’t someone begging for their job.
This isn’t someone making excuses.
This is devotion.

The mayor’s aide is watching this play out, probably wondering:
How lucky can this kid get?

Fisk lets the silence sit. Then:

“Loyalty and courage… they’re not in large supply.”

Daniel isn’t fired.
But he’s not quite safe, either.

Because Fisk rewards loyalty, but he never forgets a mistake.

And he makes that clear when he ends the meeting with one final warning:

“If you ever slip up again… it will be the last thing you do.”

A threat. A promise.

We all know what that means.

The question is—does Daniel?

Wilson Fisk Is Still Kingpin, No Matter How Many Photo Ops He Does

• He tried to change.

• He tried to be the man Vanessa wanted him to be.

• He tried to play the part of a legitimate leader.

But here’s the thing about Fisk: He is who he is.

• He handled Adam.

• He turned a mistake into a lesson in control.

• And he’s still wielding power the only way he knows how. We thought Adam might be dead in previous episodes, but it turns out not to be so.

And that Kingpin mural?

It’s not just some street art.

It’s the truth.

The Case That Doesn’t Matter (Except It Does)

Some cases change the world.
Some cases change the system.
And some cases?

Some cases are just about one man who got screwed over.

Matt’s lawyer partner, Kirsten, asks him to take a freebie case.
Small-time. Unimportant. A guy who got caught stealing food.

And Matt?

Matt says yes.

Which—let’s be real—probably isn’t the best financial decision, because we’re also seeing hints that his firm is struggling for money.
But Matt doesn’t care.

Because Matt always says yes to the people no one else will fight for.

The Back and Forth That’s Really Just A Setup

Matt argues with the DA to get his guy 10 more days.
It’s not a big case.
It’s not life or death.

And yet?

It starts feeling bigger.

Because the DA isn’t just giving in.
There’s a push and pull that feels like we’re being led somewhere.

Which—spoiler alert—we are.

Because the real point of all this?

Is to get Matt inside the jail.

So that Matt and the corrupt cop from earlier can have Round 2.

Matt’s Sassy Lawyer Energy vs. A Cop Who Hates Him

Once he’s in, things turn hostile quick.

Matt presses.
He provokes.
He pokes the bear, over and over again.

The corrupt cop? He’s already pissed that Matt made him look bad before.
So now? He’s looking for any excuse to take a shot.

And Matt?

Matt knows it.

But instead of backing down, he leans into it.

“You’d have to bring a few more next time, wouldn’t you?”

🔥🔥🔥

That’s Sassy Matt at his best.

Cool. Calculated.
Deadly without even throwing a punch.

And the best part?

It works.

Because the cop snaps back, angry as hell, but accidentally lets something slip:

He had nothing to do with Hector’s murder.

And Matt?

Matt knows he’s telling the truth.

The "Meaningless" Case That Suddenly Matters

Meanwhile, that little freebie case starts hitting a little harder.

Because the guy? He isn’t some random thief.

He’s a guy who had his benefits cut.
Who was starving.
Who stole food because the system would rather lock him up than help him.

And he knows what happens next.

“It don’t matter anyway.”

The system? It’s a machine.
It chews people up. Spits them out.

And Matt?

Matt can fight.

But the real question is—
Can he ever actually win?

Matt & Frank: Rage Meets Regret in a Basement

Matt needs answers.

Hector Ayala—White Tiger—is dead.
The cops didn’t kill him.

Which means there’s only one other name on the list.

So Matt follows the clues—his senses locked in.
A bullet casing, marked with the Punisher’s emblem.

A trail of scent, leading him to a basement filled with weapons and shadows.

And then—a hatchet flies at his head.

Because, of course, Frank Castle doesn’t do “friendly visits.”

The Basement Standoff: A Verbal Fight That Hurts More Than A Physical One

Matt barely dodges. Frank barely cares.

And then? The real fight begins.

Because this isn’t about fists.

This is a war of guilt. Of loss. Of how much pain a man can carry before it breaks him.

Matt accuses Frank—he found the casing, after all.

But Frank?

Frank just laughs.

“You think I did it?”
“Nah. That’s just some asshole playing dress-up.”

And Matt knows he’s telling the truth.
Which means somebody else is out there, wearing Frank’s symbol, playing executioner.

And that? That doesn’t sit well with either of them.

Frank Castle: The One Man Who Sees Through Matt’s Bullsh*t

Matt tries to push.
Tries to stay focused.
Tries to keep it about Hector.

But Frank?

Frank sees straight through him.

And that’s when the real breaking point happens.

“That guilt. That shame. That’s my home, Red.”

“That friend of yours… did you save his life?”
“You lost him, didn’t you?”

Matt doesn’t answer.

Frank leans in.

“Say his name. Say his name, you coward.”

And Matt?

Matt starts crying.

Because this isn’t about Hector.

It’s always been about Foggy.

The Most Brutal Line in the Entire Episode

Frank watches Matt break in front of him.
Watches him try to fight back tears instead of an enemy.

And then he delivers the line that reveals what drives the Punisher, what broke him completely, these words he hears his son saying

“Go get him, Daddy.”
“You get every last single one of them.”

Because Frank knows what Matt is going through.  Frank is saying that Matt is going through the same thing, that he hears Foggy the way that Frank hears his son.

He knows that Matt is lying to himself—that he’s trying to live in a world where justice is fair.

But it’s not fair.

And every second Matt hesitates, more people die.

Matt’s Goodbye (For Now?)

Matt finally speaks.

“Foggy Nelson was the kindest, purest soul I ever met.”
“We can work a lifetime and never get to his decency.”

And then—he turns to leave.

Because Frank won’t give him the closure he wants.
Because Frank won’t let him lie to himself.

Because Matt already knows what he has to do.

Matt’s Turn: The Devil Comes Back to Life

At first, Matt just stares.

His weapons. His old life. The identity he’s been trying to run from since Foggy died.

Then—he picks them up.

He starts moving.

Practicing. Spinning. Hitting.

The first few strikes are hesitant. Then faster. Stronger. Sharper.

Until suddenly—

The rhythm is back. Daredevil is back.

And Matt?

Matt knows it.

Because the moment he picks up those sticks again…
The moment he starts moving like a fighter again…

It’s already over.

He’s back in the war.

Fisk’s Turn: Control, Cruelty, and Absolute Power

Fisk, meanwhile, doesn’t need to practice.
He never stopped being who he was.

He just pretended for a while.

So now? He stops pretending.

Adam—Vanessa’s former lover—sits locked up, staring at a perfect meal.

Fisk? He doesn’t yell.
Doesn’t threaten.

He just sits, enjoying his meal, while Adam screams.

This? This is the lesson.

Power isn’t just brute force.

It’s making someone know they’ve lost, and there’s nothing they can do about it.

Two Men, Two Paths, Same Destination

Matt is practicing.
Fisk is eating.
And both of them are slipping back into who they really are.

Because they can’t escape it.

No matter how hard they tried.

VII. The Final Scene: Muse’s Horrific Canvas

Just when we think the episode is ready to roll credits—

The real horror begins.

No Words. No Explanation. Just Blood and Art.

The camera cuts to a dark, quiet space.

A dim light flickers. Shadows stretch across the walls.

And in the middle of it all—

Muse.

The Man Behind the Mask

We’ve seen his signature in every episode.

We saw him silently dragging a body earlier.

But now? Now we see what he does with them.

He’s in his workshop.
And in front of him—

A man strapped down, veins exposed.

Muse isn’t torturing him.
He isn’t killing him for information.

No.

He’s extracting his blood.

And he’s using it.

For art.

Muse Doesn’t Kill for Power. He Kills for Expression.

This isn’t Fisk, controlling his enemies.
This isn’t Matt, fighting to protect people.
This isn’t even the Punisher, dealing out his brand of justice.

This?

This is something else.

Muse sees people as materials.

He doesn’t talk.
He doesn’t monologue.
He just creates.

And in that final, lingering shot—

The realization hits.

This isn’t just another street criminal.

This is an artist.
And the city?

The city is his canvas.

A New Nightmare Begins

The episode ends on one last chilling note.

We don’t know who his victim is.
We don’t know what he’s planning.

All we know?

Hell’s Kitchen has a new monster.
And he’s just getting started.

Sic Semper Systema: Daredevil Breaks, Fisk Eats, and Everything Still Bleeds

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