I keep thinking about how excruciating beautiful this shot truly is.
I keep thinking about how each blade has its own metaphorical meaning.
How he had to hear the heartbeats of his best friend slow down to complete silence.
How the realisation dawned upon him that he would never hear them again.
How he listened to the wails of his love and best friend.
How he watched in horror as he pushed his enemy off the building.
How he listened in anticipation for his heartbeat.
How he felt relief that he could still hear it..
And bitterness that this man would get to live another day.
But most importantly, that one knife in his back..
How the devil inside betrayed him. Relentlessly stripped him of his tight grip over his morals. Clouded his senses and drove him across a line he had prided himself in never crossing.
How he never crossed that line to kill Fisk (even as much as he would have loved to) when the whole city was on the line, but crossed it for his own best friend.
He was comfortable being daredevil because he knew the devil never had it in him to challenge Matt's morals. Never dared to cross them.
And now he did.
And now Daredevil can never get over how satisfying and horrifying revenge felt.
And just how blurry that line between vigilantism and murder truly is.












