"Be careful of the Murdock boys," Matt's grandmother used to say, "they've got the devil in them."
The devil had always been there: a constant presence in Matt's head, whispering to him, egging him on. As a kid, the devil had been hot headed, getting Matt into fights with kids who were much older and much stronger than him. Unsurprisingly, the older kids always walked away unharmed, save for bruised knuckles. Matt was left bruised, sore, and often bloody, limping back to the apartment to clean up before his dad could see. But no matter how badly he was outmatched, Matt never learned how to swallow his pride and walk away.
And so the next time the older kids were around they'd end up saying something Matt disagreed with and he would be there, with the devil egging him on. This sheer stupidity and inability to back down earned him the nickname "daredevil." It was mocking at the time, but nicknames tend to stick around.
When Matt got blinded, the devil was a mournful, hollow ache, repeating Matts worst fears back at him. It curled around him, reminding Matt that a part of him was bissing, that he was broken, that he'd never be whole again. And then everything else was just so loud, and everything hurt, and the world was screaming at him. Even the littlest things seemed louder that he could imagine. The whisper of fingertips over cloth was the screeching of fingernails down a chalkboard. The constant hum of electric lights were an assault on his ears. Everything and anything echoed in Matt's head, leaving him overwhelmed and disoriented.
All the while, the devil whispered in Matts ears, his harsh words cutting through the noise- you're worthless, pitiable, lesser. The cavernous ache the words left in in their wake was the only thing that silenced the constant screaming. The outside noise had nothing to compare with the emptiness inside. So Matt held onto the devils words, unwilling to listen to anything else.
When Matt's dad died, the devil laughed, mocking, jeering- a pointed finger, jabbing right to Matt's heart. This is all your fault, the devil said, you did this. You caused your own father's death- what kind of person are you? There was no one else in Matt's life to tell him any different, so Matt clung to the devil's accusations. Your dad is dead because of you, the devil said. At least this way, Matt told himself, there was someone to blame.
Even if the words stung, even if the guilt was at times unbearable, there was someone to blame. It was easier, Matt discovered, to turn the guilt and hate inwards than to try to blame the whole world. If it's all his fault, then at least Matt can close himself off, building a wall of pain between himself and everyone else. At least this was he has someone to blame without affecting anyone else. (Without hurting anyone else)
By the time Matt started learning under Stick the devil no longer needed to whisper in his ear; Matt did it automatically. Of course, Stick helped, teaching Matt of his proper place in the worlds. It was an easy transition from feeling the guilt of causing his father's death to the unfeeling emptiness of being Sticks weapon in the fast approaching war. It's no surprise that he hurt his Dad, Matt reasoned, causing others pain and hurt is the purpose of a weapon. And Stick had made it very clear that Matt was a weapon.
Under Stick's teachings and the devils guidance, Matt saw the error of his ways- there was no need to guilt, for grief. Weapons don't feel anything, they obey. And when Sticks harsh words reached Matts sensitive ears, they only helped to continue chipping out the gaping chasm in Matt's heart where he used to feel something.
Matt was older ow, and the devil liked Electra. While Matt wasn't as empty and unfeeling as he had once been under Stick, the warmer, more positive emotions were still difficult for him. Do Matt didn't bother with those, instead he fell back on the easier ones: anger, bloodlust, and hatred.
Electra brough those out quite nicely in Matt. The pair really was perfect for eachother: two monsters, hollow inside, filling each other up with a toxic mixture. With each one feeding off the others weakness, they were burning the candle at both ends, sending each other spiraling ever closer to utter destruction.
At first, the devil didn't like Foggy- he was too nice, too human. He brought out too many good things in Matt. Imagine the devil's shock and horror when Matt started to feel a warm curl of friendship! However, as the devil soon came to realize, if Matt cared about Foggy, then it would destroy him if something were to happen to his friendly roommate.
And what with Matt's tendency to face the world with a blood spattered grin, fists raised and teeth bared, how easy would it be for Matt to accidentally hurt Foggy. Oh yes, a delicious combination of pain, rage, and self loathing. Oh yes, this was going to be good.
"Be careful of the Murdock boys," Matt's grandmother used to say, "They've got the devil in them." It was almost funny, how close she had been to the truth, and yet how utterly wrong she had been. It wasn't other people that had to fear the devil in Matt Murdock- it was Matt himself who was going to be the cause of his own downfall.