What do Stray Kids and Daredevil: Born Again have in common

What do Stray Kids and Daredevil: Born Again have in common? At first glance, it’s easy to say there’s no link. One is Stray Kids, a K-pop act known for explosive concepts and emotionally charged performances, and the other is Daredevil: Born Again, a series about a Catholic vigilante haunted by guilt and violence. But if you look past the surface, a strange synergy starts to form.

If you’re looking for a connection between Daredevil: Born Again and Stray Kids, think of this as less of a crossover and more of a vibe match, especially with the new Marvel series delivering a grittier, more psychological narrative grounded in the moral gray areas of NYC.

Disclaimer: This article does not intend to claim that Daredevil: Born Again is secretly inspired by Stray Kids—or vice versa. No secret collab, no leaked soundtrack (yet). What you’ll find here is a collision of vibes: one rooted in the blood-soaked alleys of Hell’s Kitchen, the other pulsing through the bass drops and bruised poetry of a K-pop act that thrives on chaos and catharsis. Call it a metaphor. Call it a moodboard. Just don’t call it random—because once the parallels start hitting, they don’t stop.

---

Why Daredevil: Born Again and Stray Kids speak the same language (even if some of them are Korean)

Picture this: Matt Murdock walking the rain-soaked streets of Hell’s Kitchen while Venom by Stray Kids plays in the background. That creeping paranoia, the entrapment of your own mind? That’s Daredevil: Born Again in a nutshell.

Or picture this: Red Lights playing over a flashback of Matt and Elektra—chaotic, seductive, doomed. Chains, obsession, and pain masked as pleasure. It’s almost too on point.

Stray Kids don’t just make music; they craft cinematic universes, just like Daredevil: Born Again does within the Marvel framework. Both are built on duality, tension, and emotional intensity, and both thrive in darkness, whether literal or metaphorical.

---

A war inside: identity, guilt, and resistance

Matt Murdock is defined by guilt, and Stray Kids are defined by resistance, but somewhere in between—in the murky space where the self fractures and rebuilds—they meet. Songs like MIROH and SLUMP carry that same tension between self-destruction and salvation, a constant tug-of-war between who you are and who the world wants you to be.

It’s the same question Daredevil asks every night before he puts on the suit: Am I saving them, or am I just punishing myself? That line hits different when you think of Side Effects or Silent Cry. These aren’t just songs, they’re internal monologues screamed into the void.

And Daredevil: Born Again promises even more of that internal unraveling, with no Avenger cameos, no multiverse loopholes—just trauma, tension, and a man trying to claw his way out of his own mind.

---

Elektra and the echo of Daredevil: Born Again

Elektra Natchios isn’t just (one of, but that's a topic for a whole new article) Matt’s love interest—she’s Matt's reflection in a broken mirror. Beautiful, brutal, and dangerous in ways he’s afraid to admit. She doesn’t just walk into his life; she tears it apart, and somehow, he always lets her.

And it’s no coincidence that in the Daredevil comics, she literally becomes Daredevil, wearing the suit and carrying the weight he once did, reinforcing the idea that she’s not just beside him, she is him—shattered, remade, and red all over.

That’s why Red Lights by Stray Kids feels so visceral. It’s not just the imagery of chains and blindfolds; it’s the sound of two people spiraling into each other, knowing it can only end in ruin. It’s Elektra whispering stay even as she vanishes. It’s Matt giving in to the one person who makes him forget the difference between justice and desire.

Stray Kids are less about love songs and more about survival anthems, and there’s something about that—about loving someone in the middle of a war—that fits Matt and Elektra’s story better than any ballad ever could.

---

The choreography of pain and purpose

There’s also the physicality of it all. The way Daredevil fights like it hurts—because it does. And the way Stray Kids perform like their lives depend on it. Watch a Red Lights stage and tell me it doesn’t feel like a battle of will, or see how Felix owns TASTE with a presence that’s both haunting and hypnotic. These aren’t just choreographies, they’re exorcisms.

That’s the core of the connection—not in lore, not in canon, but in energy. In blood, breath, rhythm, and rage. Daredevil: Born Again bleeds through every punch. Stray Kids bleed through every beat.

You’re right to think, “I wouldn’t normally associate the two.” But now that you have… It’s hard to unsee, isn’t it?