Daredevil (2015–…): Season 2, Episode 2 - Dogs to a Gunfight - full transcript

Good. Stay there.

Matt?

No. I haven't seen him since last night.

I'll let him know what's going on.
Meet you at the precinct.

And don't let anyone
talk to Grotto until then.

It was a normal evening
at Metro-General

when a lone gunman entered
and began firing into the crowd.

Most of the patients are being moved
to other area hospitals.

Investigators say...

The building's clear.
Perp is not in the building.

Standby to lift lockdown.
All units hold position.



We have a report of shots fired earlier
on a rooftop up on 10th.

- Yeah?
- I lost my keys!

- Your kid locked you out?
- Yeah.

You some kind of idiot?

Yeah.

Oh, shit.

No, no, no, no, no.
No! Matt!

Come on, Matt, wake up.

You okay, Matt? Come on.

Get up! Matt! Matt, come on!

Wake up. Wake up!

Come on!

Matt, can you breathe?

Matt. Can you get up?



Hey, Foggy, can I get some aspirin?

You sure you don't want an x-ray?
Maybe a psych eval?

An aspirin's fine, buddy.

You got shot in the head.
You're lucky you're not in the morgue.

It was just a dumb mistake, man.

- What?
- The gun on his ankle, I...

I should've heard it, you know.
I should've felt it.

Are you serious?

Yeah, but he's fast,
this guy, Foggy, he's...

He's trained.

He's a lunatic, Matt.

I went to the hospital.
I saw what he did.

- Where's Karen?
- We've been through this.

Oh, yeah, that's right.

Yeah, you're sure...
you're sure she's okay?

She got Grotto to the NYPD.

We're gonna meet there,
make a deal with the DA.

Thanks.

Thanks, buddy.
I'm gonna put on some pants.

- No.
- It's okay. I know we need to get going.

"We" don't need to do anything.

- Foggy, I don't wanna do this right now.
- Karen's safe,

you're safe...

and our client will be safe
within the hour.

- It's all taken care of.
- Except the shooter.

He's still walking the streets
of Hell's Kitchen.

- He's the cops' problem now.
- He's gonna plow right through the cops.

I know what you're doing.

You saw what he did to the Irish,

you didn't see what he did
to the Mexican Cartel.

He hung them on meat hooks,
and he left them there to die.

- You want another round.
- Blood is being shed, Foggy.

And you've donated
more than your fair share to the cause.

- I need to stop him.
- You need to get rest. Okay?

And when you wake up,
you need to consider

putting that thing back
in whatever wacko box it came from.

Better yet...

Let go.

You first.

I don't wanna do this again.

Then don't.

You know what would've happened
if someone caught us stumbling home?

- You wearing that thing?
- I appreciate it, Foggy.

- You taking care of me.
- You should.

But when the cops
try to take this guy down,

it's gonna be one hell of a fight,
lives are gonna be lost.

This guy's not gonna go down easy.

I need to help.

You look like shit.

Stay here. Get rest.

We don't need people asking questions
we don't have answers to.

I've covered for you enough as it is.

And for now, let the NYPD
and the DA do their jobs.

And trust me to do mine!

Okay?

That window bulletproof?

Twenty cops outside that door.
You're safe.

Where the hell are your boys?

On their way.

Place of birth?

Queens.

Relatives? Anyone we should place
into Witness Protection with you?

No. I got no one.

You don't seem rattled.

A guy tries to blow your head off,
you ain't scared?

I'm terrified.

- Sorry. Are you okay?
- Yeah, yeah. Mmm.

The paperwork's almost done
and Brett's gonna be in in a minute.

Where's Murdock?

He took a sick day.

You told us the Irish were attacked
by a whole gang of guys.

I'm pretty sure
the word you used was "army."

You want to tell me
why I'm now hearing

this is all being done by one man?

- Look, I didn't know you guys were...
- Who does he work for?

- I got no idea!
- Well, what do you know?

I know he's a sociopath, that's what.

I mean, yeah, fine...

I heard the rumors, okay,
but I didn't think...

I thought it was ridiculous, okay?

Ten, 20 guys could be
mowed down at a time.

And with precision?
You know, tactically.

Every hit was like
some kind of SEAL Team 6.

Then people started saying
it was one guy doing all that.

One man?
I thought it was a ghost story.

Some...

campfire shit you tell freshies
to make 'em crap their pants.

But now...

You saw.

That guy was the Grim Reaper.

Mr. Grote, I'm Sergeant Mahoney.

Got some clothes here for you.

What? Am I arrested?

Just protective custody
until we can figure out WITSEC.

Why the peel?

Or stay in the gown
with your ass hangin' out,

- I don't care.
- Yeah.

We pulled the security footage
from the hospital.

- I got ten men going over it right now.
- Any leads?

I was hoping you had something.

Let's let him change. You two wanna
step outside with me for a sec?

Now, the DA's office
is sending someone over

to talk you through
Witness Protection options.

- Today?
- Yeah, right now.

And listen,
take whatever deal they offer, okay?

You don't wanna mess with this psycho.

So you do have a lead.

I ever tell you what Clemons used to say?

Gotta treat witnesses like mushrooms.

Feed 'em shit, and keep 'em in the dark.

That scum's on a need to know.

So fill us in.
Who's bankrolling this guy?

Who does he work for?

The DA's office says
the shooter's independent.

Vigilante type,
targeting different crime families.

And not in a... a Daredevil way.
In a Death Wish way.

- Holy shit.
- Yeah.

Daredevil kicks ass, this whole city
cheers like we just won the World Series.

But this guy?

He does it, and the streets get bloody.

Makes everybody stop and think twice
about the whole "hero" proposition.

Well, what do you think?

The whole force is split.

Some cops want him off the street,

others think he's making our jobs
a whole lot easier.

But if you ask me,
it's only a matter of time

before the wrong person
gets caught in the crossfire.

Yeah, you put it that way,
I guess copycats were inevitable.

No, it's not the first, just the latest.

Yeah, we call them "Devil Worshippers."

Nutjobs inspired by
the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

Shit, most of 'em are just
ineffectual idiots, but this guy...

all my years on the force,
I've never seen anything like him.

Oh.

Shit, it's not an assistant,
it's the actual DA.

That's Reyes?

In all her
defense-attorney-destroying glory.

How do I look?

Uh, semi-professional.

- No, Foggy, I'm kidding. You'll be fine.
- Okay.

Are they the ones that brought in Grote?

Um, Franklin Nelson,
of Nelson and Murdock.

This is my associate, Karen Page.

Officers, I want you to prepare
Mr. Grote for transport.

Excuse me,
but, transport where, exactly?

Once he's in our custody,

I want you to personally
handle all the arrangements.

Just to put it out there,

our client's already given us
a list of his conditions.

Mr. Nelson, have you ever negotiated
a witness protection agreement?

Well... speaking for my firm,

I can attest that
we're all very fast learners.

The District Attorney
appreciates your efforts,

but our office will be
handling the case from here.

Excuse me. Grotto is our client.

And it would be in
Mr. Grote's best interest

for you to recuse yourselves

so he can bring in a legal team
with more expertise.

You mean someone
you can push around.

We had enough expertise
to handle Wilson Fisk.

I'll say this once, Mr. Nelson.

If, God willing,
your firm doesn't collapse

under the weight of the chickens
and the fruit baskets

you've been collecting
from your indigent clientele,

there will come a time
when you need to ask a favor

of the District Attorney's office.

And depending on how
this situation resolves,

that favor will either be forthcoming
or permanently withheld.

Am I making myself clear?

Of course.

Now...

if we're through?

I'm sorry. Just one sec.

About that favor...

you wouldn't happen to have the number
for the U.S. Attorney's office?

Oh, never mind, I got it.

Uh, U.S. Department of Justice...

Office of Enforcement Operations.

What the hell are you doing?

Zealously protecting my client's rights.

Local DA's don't have jurisdiction
over the witness protection program.

That's solely determined by the
U.S. Attorney's office, a.k.a. the Feds,

who are probably
just as douchey as you are,

but at least they can
deliver on their promises...

and their threats.

Since this really isn't
working out between us,

maybe I should just
deal with them directly.

Kudos, by the way.
The cell service in here is awesome.

Hang up.

- Attorney General's office.
- One second.

Yes, hi. Uh...
This is Franklin Nelson.

- Spell it.
- Uh, yes, uh...

- N-E-L...
- Hang up.

What do you want?

As I see it,
the District Attorney's office

would like to receive
credit for any arrests

that arise from Mr. Grote's testimony.

And my client, on the other hand,
could definitely use

the enthusiastic endorsement
of the New York DA

when entering in his witpro agreement.

In either case, he'll be requiring
legal representation,

which will be provided
by the law firm of Nelson and Murdock.

To put it in layman's terms...

cut the shit, lady.
You're dealing with us.

Let's find out if their low-life client
is even worth it.

Oh, Foggy...

- that was amazing.
- That was just round one.

I'll keep it simple.

Give me a deal, put up a camera,

I'll tell you everything
about those Irish pricks.

Names, dates, their favorite titty-bars...

That's not good enough.

That's what he's got.

Most of Mr. Grote's mob friends
are either dead or fleeing the country.

If you want this office's endorsement,

you'll have to give us someone
who's still breathing.

What... So how does my client manage that?

We would like Mr. Grote to wear a wire
to meet one of his old associates.

Our files show your organization
has had dealings with one Edgar Brass.

Brass. You're out of your goddamn mind!

Grotto, calm down.

- We need a second with our client.
- Fine.

Who's Edgar Brass?

Drug-dealing butcher
who's worse by a mile.

They send me after him,
I'm as good as dead.

I get it, I do,

but chances are,
the Feds are gonna ask for the same thing.

Why Grotto?

Because we know your client
has worked with Brass before.

You got an in.

If he could get Brass to talk,

he would be instrumental
in taking down a major drug ring.

If I don't?

Then you're free to walk away.

But don't expect to get very far.

Oh, God.

What the hell is that?

You could call it "work product."

Morgue reports generated by the shooter
who attacked you in the hospital.

And all of these people were...
were killed by the same man?

He's tracking gangs to their home turf

and taking them out
with military precision.

But it doesn't stop there.

What do you mean, "doesn't stop"?

His targets aren't random,
Mr. Grote.

He knows exactly who he wants to hit.

And if any of his intended marks
are lucky enough to escape...

Say they're off buying a sandwich,
or in bed with the flu...

recuperating under an assumed name

at Metro-General...

Sooner or later,
he gets to them, too.

Jesus Christ.

My office is offering you
a chance to save yourself.

Whether you take it, is up to you.

And your, uh... legal team.

Reyes.

And the police have
no idea who's doing this?

It's an ongoing investigation.

But our intelligence people
are close to completing a profile.

A profile?

- Even got a code name.
- Like what?

- "Killdozer," or "Dumbass With A Gun"?
- Not quite.

They're calling this one...

"the Punisher."

Check out the phone, man.
That's a brand new Ikea.

Idiot.

Oh, I suppose this is yours too?

What do you care?

A hundred in trade, come on, man.

Go on, get the hell out of here.

Go ahead.

Shit.

Do I know you?

I need an NYPD mobile communications rig.

One that gets
encrypted tactical frequencies.

What do I look like, RadioShack?

Anyway, dealing in this shit is illegal.

Sure you're not a cop?
'Cause that's trouble I don't need.

- Yeah...
- Whoa, whoa, whoa!

I gotta ask, right?

Just hold on.

Yep.

Straight outta
Officer McDipshit's dashboard.

Gets your tactical bands,
surveillance feeds.

Hell, it'll probably pick up
the mayor banging his boyfriend.

It's a grand.

We're talking about
a one-of-a-kind item.

Video tape.

Sure. What the hell.

What about the double-barrel
under the counter?

Hey, man, hold on.
Sure I can't get you anything else?

You know, I got it all, man.

Yeah, bondage...

back-door, grannies,

or maybe you're in the market
for something younger?

She's barely 12.
Guaranteed.

You like that, huh?

For 100 bucks, she's all yours.

That's my man.

What the hell are you doin'?

Hey, man, just take it easy.

I'm just trying to make a buck!

Thank you, Ms. Kwan.

Yeah, and it shouldn't be
too much longer now.

And yes, we very much
appreciate the kimchi.

Okay. Bye.

Anything else we've been ignoring?

Uh, yeah. Um...

There you go.

Thank you.

"Overdue."

"Past due."

"Final notice."

Hey! "First notice." That's a win.

Karen?

What are you working on?

- Um, the morgue reports.
- What?

Uh, you know,
the stuff the DA showed us.

I'm just running searches
on the names in the databases.

Karen...

I could have been
one of these people, Foggy.

- He was after Grotto.
- I know.

But how long can I tell myself
this is just bad luck?

Fisk? And now this guy?

I mean, what if I'm
drawing this stuff my way?

You're not.
You're gonna be fine.

- "Punisher" is just a nickname.
- Yeah, well, what if I deserve it?

What are you talking about?

Nothing. I just...

None of this feels real, I guess.

That asshole opened fire in a hospital.

You're not the one
who deserves to be punished.

And plus, you got away,
which kind of makes you awesome.

I guess.

Coffee?

I'm buying.

In that case, okay.

Yeah. Yeah, yeah.

I'm coming, I'm coming.

Hey.

Hey.

Sorry, you startled me.

I didn't mean to.

- Come in.
- Uh, sure?

Of course.

Okay.

I, uh... I heard what happened.

Yeah, I'm fine.

No, uh, actually, I'm...
I'm barely holding on.

I really don't enjoy
being used for target practice.

Come here.

I'm glad you're okay.

Me, too.

How about you?

Uh, me, yeah, I'm fine.

Hair of the dog that bit you?

It's, uh, it's not what it looks like.

What does it look like?

Sorry.
No, I don't mean to pry.

- I just, I worry about you a little bit...
- No need. No need.

- ...sometimes.
- Appreciate it.

There's no need to worry.

Yeah, you know that doesn't help, right?

You denying that there's anything wrong.

- Karen, let's not...
- No, I...

How many times can I hear
that you fell down the stairs,

- or you walked into a door?
- Well, you know, I'm blind.

And you know that I'm not an idiot.

Okay, um...

Let's say this.

When, or if, you ever feel like...

you can tell me
what's really going on with you...

I promise that I'm here.

Is that a deal?

That is a deal.

Good.

Now, what can you tell me about
the meeting with the DA?

Yeah, um, it's...
Where to begin? Um...

- Reyes showed up.
- Personally?

- Uh, yeah.
- Any idea why?

Well, uh, it wasn't to bask us
in the warmth of her personality,

I can tell you that.

Yeah, Reyes wouldn't buy a pack of gum

if it didn't move her
political career forward.

Well, she wants him on a wire.

She's got him set up for a meeting
with some big fish in the mob named Brass.

And are they gonna protect Grotto?

Yeah. But he's scared shitless
over this psycho shooter, Matt,

and I can't say that I blame him.

Reyes even used it for leverage.
She called him "the Punisher."

- What do they know about him?
- That he's very scary,

but I could have told you that.

So whatever they know about him downtown,
they're keeping it to themselves.

All right, well, that's where we start.

We need to put together a file,
a thorough one.

Find out who this guy is,
what makes him tick.

- Great.
- Yeah.

Mm-hmm.

You think, uh...
you think he's crazy?

Uh, the Punisher? No.

I think he was inevitable.

Inevitable? How so?

Maybe... maybe we created him.

All of us.

The moment that we let Daredevil,

or the Devil of Hell's Kitchen,
or whatever it is...

There's... there's no connection.

Well, actually, I think
it's a pretty straight line, Matt.

Daredevil practiced vigilante justice
in our backyard

and we applauded him for it.

I know that I did.

And we never stopped to think
that maybe...

his actions could open the door
for men like this.

Men... men with guns.

Men who think that the law
belongs to them.

There... there's a difference.

- Well, I don't see it. Not anymore.
- Yeah, well...

Daredevil never killed anyone.

Well, not that we know of.

There's something about this city

that makes good people want to
shoot their way out of bad situations.

You think this "Punisher"
could be a good person?

No.

No, I'm just saying...

he could be any one of us.

I'm gonna get back to Foggy.

- You know he hates prepping cases alone.
- Right.

- Uh, if you need anything at all...
- No, I won't.

- ...you just let us know, okay?
- Okay, thanks.

Thank you for coming around.

Wait, Matt, I, um...

We care about you.

You're worth keeping around.

How far away was this guy when he hit you?

Four or five feet. Why?

He could've killed you.

And one inch in either direction,
your face would be spaghetti.

I mean, look at that shot placement.

I got lucky.

Yeah, maybe.

Or maybe it was a warning shot.

He could've finished you off, but didn't.

Talk about getting your bell rung.

Can you fix it or not?

I promised Betsy I wouldn't
do anything illegal anymore.

I'm not a criminal, Melvin.

You don't have a badge, either.

Look, the man who did this has
already killed dozens in Hell's Kitchen.

How much longer before innocent people
start getting caught in his crossfire?

Yeah?

You sure he didn't follow you here?

I would never allow that to happen.

Okay, it's just you'd never allow yourself
to be shot in the head before.

I gave you my word, Melvin.

When I promised to protect
you and Betsy, remember?

I remember.

It's just I can't just fix this.

Why not?

You gotta understand, it's not just
the cracked part that's broken.

The crack makes the whole thing fragile
like a bird egg.

I gotta make you a new one.

Okay, well, how long is that gonna take?

I don't know, a couple days, maybe?

If I don't sleep.

What can you do for me tonight?

I don't know. Reinforce the cracks.
Replace some of the padding.

Yeah, good. Do it.

Okay, but it won't keep you safe.

I thought that's what you wanted me to do.

We keep each other safe, don't we?
Isn't that our deal?

Yeah, just do your best, Melvin. Okay?

Are you sure you're ready to go out again?

Do I look ready?

Hey, boy.

Good boy.

Good boy.

Jimmy and the boys
are unloading the trailer.

We're breaking this down for parts.

Come on.

Hey... No, no, no!

Don't! Don't!

Reyes. Are we in position? Over.

Eyes on Brass. He's moving.

He's moving northeast
to the warehouse.

- How far out?
- Five minutes.

Sending in Grote in five.

This is the frigging wire
you want me to wear?

Why don't I just carry
a video camera with me

and a guy with a boom mic?

Relax, Grotto, you'll be fine.

Look, either you are
the luckiest man in Hell's Kitchen,

or someone up there thinks
you're worth saving.

- I really hope that's true.
- We're all set on our end.

Well, good for you, lady.

Me? I got some serious
reservations about this shit.

Should I be concerned?

All we need is for Brass to admit
he's dealing drugs again.

Okay, he doesn't have to say where,
he doesn't have to say to who.

Just get him to confirm it. All right?

Don't make it the first question.
Don't even make it the second one.

Get there organically.

You'll be in and out before you know it.

- He's got no reason not to trust you.
- No?

Look at this thing.

It's like an eight-track player
around my neck.

You came to us for a deal, Grotto.

You wanna walk, walk.
We can always find someone else.

After recent events,
we've got plenty of exciting prospects.

Lots of low-lives are looking to
get out of the crime business for good.

- I don't doubt that.
- Good.

You know where we stand then.

Maybe you should do
some counseling, Counselor.

Hopefully before I change my mind.

This is not a deal you walk away from.

Not alive, no.

You get them Brass

and they get you away
from the psychopath hunting you.

It ain't just him.

What if it's Brass puts a bullet in me?

What if the Irish got wind I'm doing this?

They didn't.

When Fisk went away,
so did a lot of corrupt cops.

No one's palms
are getting greased anymore.

We're getting you out. Clean.

Yeah.

Doesn't feel like getting out.
Feels like getting in.

Deeper than before.

No, you're not.

Grotto, this is your second chance.

Just don't say anything incriminating,
you'll be fine.

- You serious? Is he serious?
- No.

- Is that a concern?
- No, I'm kidding.

You're covered.
That's why we're here.

Just let the other guy
do all the talking...

and you'll walk out of there alive.

Fine.

These are your orders
for witness protection.

Golden ticket.

It's, uh, legally binding until midnight.

Upon which, if not executed, they turn
into the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.

What?

- Nothing.
- Let's go. It's time.

Bet these assholes are
sending me to Florida.

Actually, they are.

Did I tell you I hate Florida?

Only about a thousand times.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

Kiss for good luck, sweetheart?

I'll take it.

Uh, so did you hear anything from Matt?

Um, he said he's feeling a little better.
Uh, something about turning in early.

Oh, that's good.

Yeah. I'm sure he's fine.

It's showtime.
Target's inside the perimeter.

Target?

Only an expression, Nelson.
Don't get your panties in a bunch.

Stay with him.

What the hell is he doing?

Uh, from the look of the thing,
I'd say he's trying not to crap his pants.

Yo, Brass!

It's me, Grotto.

Cut the spook act
and say something already!

Shit, shit.

Shit.

You don't wanna deal, fine!

Find someone else
stupid enough to buy H off you!

Good one, asshole.

Let's get this done.

I got places I gotta be tonight.

We lost visual.

Mayday! Mayday! Mayday,
what do you call it? Abort!

- Abort!
- I'm a cop, moron. Shut up.

And sound.
I can't hear him anymore.

Probably just interference from
the metal in the shipping crate.

Most likely, ma'am.
We'll, uh, try adjusting the gain on it.

Package is delivered.

- What do you mean "package is delivered"?
- If I was you, I'd put that on.

- What? Why? Why?
- Charlie one is now set.

- Over.
- Roger that, Charlie one.

Overwatch positions,
check in by the numbers.

What exactly is an "overwatch position"?

Let the police do their job.

Charlie three is set.

Clear fields of fire
in sectors one and five. Over.

Charlie four is set.
Clear fields of...

"Fields of fire"
doesn't sound like cop talk to me.

That sounds like you're
planning an ambush.

Really? You're using my client
as bait for the Punisher?

Probably the first useful thing
your client's ever done in his life.

Oh, I'm gonna have so much fun suing you.

Whatever it is that you have
planned here for tonight, it ends now.

We're getting Grotto out.

We have a situation taking place
on Tac channel one, ma'am!

Target is inbound.
Repeat, target is inbound.

Take him out!

Hold your fire! Move in!

- Keep your bead!
- I'll go left!

Hands in the air! Now!

Shit! It's not him, it's a diversion.
Target's still out there!

The bastard knew it was a trap.

Shit.

Grotto's getting away.
We have to go get him.

No, you can't go out there.

- Foggy!
- This place is about to become a war zone.

- I don't care.
- I know it sucks,

but the safest place to be
is in this room right now.

What the hell is that?

Status report.
What's going on out there?

Target acquired.

- You know what to do.
- Negative.

We do not, I repeat,
we do not have a clean target.

Shit!

You know what to do.
Take the shot!

- No.
- Ten-four.

Take the shot.
Repeat, take the shot!

We lost him!

Foggy?

Ground floor clear.

They're gone. Repeat, they're gone.