Marvel’s “Red Band” initiative has promised a version of the Marvel Universe where the gloves come off and the consequences of vigilante justice are laid bare in visceral, uncompromising detail. In Daredevil: Unleash Hell – Red Band #1, writer Erica Schultz and artist Valentina Pinti deliver on that promise, plunging readers into a Hell’s Kitchen that feels more like a slaughterhouse than a neighborhood. This issue marks a significant shift for Elektra Natchios as she continues her tenure as the Woman Without Fear, grappling with the legacy of Matt Murdock while a familiar, macabre horror from the past prepares to claw its way back to the surface.
The Kitchen’s Bloody History
The story begins not with a punch, but with a meditation on the name “Hell’s Kitchen.” As Elektra stalks through the shadows, she reflects on the various legends surrounding the neighborhood’s moniker—some say it came from a group of Irish cops, others attribute it to a man named Dutch Fred. But for Elektra, the “Kitchen” is defined by the “cooks” currently poisoning her streets with drugs.
The action is immediate and brutal. Elektra descends upon a drug operation with a level of efficiency that borders on the terrifying. She notes the lack of training in the men she fights, describing them as “pathetic” and “almost cute” in their incompetence. However, the violence is anything but cute. This is the Red Band version of Daredevil, and the panels reflect that through the sheer impact of her strikes. She acknowledges that while she is “forbidden to kill” out of respect for Matthew (who is currently in jail), she has no qualms about making these criminals “wish they were dead”.
When the Stove Boils Over
The mission quickly takes a turn for the worse. During the skirmish, a fire breaks out in the makeshift lab. The scene shifts from a tactical takedown to a chaotic nightmare. Elektra watches with a mix of disgust and cold observation as the criminals prioritize saving their product over helping a colleague who is literally burning alive. “You can see their priorities,” she muses as a man screams for help while his partners scramble for drug bags.
The explosion that follows is massive, tearing through the deserted block. Elektra narrowly escapes, though not without sustaining injuries that remind her she lacks the superhuman healing factors of some of her peers. As she retreats to the rooftops, she considers the political landscape of the city. Mayor Luke Cage has repealed the anti-vigilante laws, but as Elektra knows all too well, “masks are not welcomed around town”. She views the destruction of the drug lab as a favor to the city’s developers—a “demolition” that was both effective and expensive.
The Agony of the Artist
The narrative then shifts its focus to the Conservatory of Visual Arts, introducing us to a student named Morgan. Morgan is a woman possessed by a deep, existential angst that permeates her work. Her latest piece is a bleak recreation of Goya-esque themes, meant to capture the feeling of a “lack of control over our own lives”. She describes humanity as “serfs in this modern world,” doing everything just to be “gobbled up” by something larger.
Her professor, Fabiano, is a caricature of academic pretension. He dismisses her work as the product of “true-crime podcasts” and “misery,” telling her she should focus on beauty because she is a “beautiful, young woman”. His condescension is palpable, but Morgan’s frustration is interrupted by something far more sinister than a bad critique. She is hearing a voice—a voice that claims to be her “mentor” and her “muse”.
A Masterpiece in the Making
This “Muse” is not a mere figment of Morgan’s imagination. Long-time readers will recognize him as the horrifying serial killer artist who once plagued Matt Murdock and Blindspot. Muse reveals himself to Morgan, whispering that her teacher “does not have your vision” and “certainly does not have your courage”. The interaction quickly turns lethal. In a sequence that highlights the “Explicit Content” warning on the cover, Muse encourages Morgan to take a stand.
The transition is chilling. Muse tells Morgan that “reinvention is the key to a long career” and that they need “more supplies” for a statement they are about to make. When Morgan asks what they are doing, Muse suggests they experiment with “mixed media”—a horrifying euphemism given his history of using human bodies as his canvas. The professor, Fabiano, becomes the first “supply” for this new project.
The Veil Between Worlds
Back at her base, Elektra stitches her wounds, her mind wandering to those she has lost or sent away for their own safety, like Alice. She reflects on the teachings of her former master, Stick, who always claimed that Hell’s Kitchen sat along a “ley line”. Stick believed the intersection of these lines made the area particularly sensitive to supernatural energy, a place where the “veil between Earth and Hell was thin”.
“You could smell what the Devil was cookin’ in Hell’s Kitchen,” Stick would say, warning that eventually, whatever was on the stove in Hell would “bubble up to the surface”. Elektra, who has literally been to Hell and back, can sense the truth in these words. Even without Matt’s heightened senses, she can focus on the “bits of Hell” that seep up through the cracks of the city.
Perspectives from the Pit
The final segment of the issue provides a haunting look into the mind of Muse as he resides in “Hell”—or at least his version of it. He describes Hell as a “true blessing” for his creativity, a place that has broadened his horizons and enhanced his understanding of the “Earthly plane”. From his vantage point, he watches the “Daredevil of Hell’s Kitchen,” though he finds Elektra’s version of justice lacking.
Muse harbors a deep resentment for vigilantes, particularly Blindspot (Sam Chung), whom he accuses of “cheating” by using otherworldly means to regain his sight. He feels a kinship with the “splintered souls” of artists who have been rejected by the establishment or crushed by the “schlock and commercialism” of late-stage capitalism. He sees himself as a provider of solace for these lost creatives, and Morgan is his chosen vessel.
The Truth of the Soul
The issue reaches its climax as Muse makes his pitch to Morgan. He explains that through a portion of her “living, creative soul,” he can reach the rest of her on the surface. He promises to help her reach her “true potential” as an artist, telling her that “Art is truth” and that she will show the world her truth with his help.
The final panels are a haunting call to action. Muse asks Morgan if she is ready to show him her art, to which the narrative concludes with a simple, chilling directive: “SHOW ME”.
