He hates how it makes sense, how that would explain Red's stubbornness to believe anyone got something worth saving in them. They don't, Frank knows that better than most, but Red needs that belief.
Red releases a shaky exhale. "I was twelve."
Frank reaches out slowly, giving Red all the time in the world to stop him. When Red doesn't move to do that, he takes his chin and pushes gently to turn, make Red face him. Then reaches further out to grab the knot of his mask. He pulls it off, and Red gasps at the sudden rush of air on his face.
Matt Murdock is looking at him with wide eyes.
"I did it because I was stupid," he admits. "I was young and my girl was pregnant, I needed a job. And there was an army rep in my high school; easy fix. I didn't think much about it. When I first killed, it was with a bullet, and it felt like nothing. My buddies were killers too. It was normal."
He takes a breath; releases it. "It only feels like something when it's your family that dies."
He never said that out loud. He never thought it out loud, clear in his mind. But he remembers the boy from his trial, yelling that Frank killed his father. He remembers Zubir Ahmad, innocent man he executed on command in Afganistan.
Monsters have families too. And most men who die in wars aren't monsters. They called us the American Taliban.
"I did a lot of terrible things when I was a soldier," he tells Matt. "I don't have enough in me to regret them. If you do..." he looks into Matt Murdock's face, eyes bare like his soul. "If you do, then you're a better man than anyone I've ever met."
MINI-FILL part 3: Soldiers in the midnight
He hates how it makes sense, how that would explain Red's stubbornness to believe anyone got something worth saving in them. They don't, Frank knows that better than most, but Red needs that belief.
Red releases a shaky exhale. "I was twelve."
Frank reaches out slowly, giving Red all the time in the world to stop him. When Red doesn't move to do that, he takes his chin and pushes gently to turn, make Red face him. Then reaches further out to grab the knot of his mask. He pulls it off, and Red gasps at the sudden rush of air on his face.
Matt Murdock is looking at him with wide eyes.
"I did it because I was stupid," he admits. "I was young and my girl was pregnant, I needed a job. And there was an army rep in my high school; easy fix. I didn't think much about it. When I first killed, it was with a bullet, and it felt like nothing. My buddies were killers too. It was normal."
He takes a breath; releases it. "It only feels like something when it's your family that dies."
He never said that out loud. He never thought it out loud, clear in his mind. But he remembers the boy from his trial, yelling that Frank killed his father. He remembers Zubir Ahmad, innocent man he executed on command in Afganistan.
Monsters have families too. And most men who die in wars aren't monsters. They called us the American Taliban.
"I did a lot of terrible things when I was a soldier," he tells Matt. "I don't have enough in me to regret them. If you do..." he looks into Matt Murdock's face, eyes bare like his soul. "If you do, then you're a better man than anyone I've ever met."
"That blood you spilled doesn't change it."