Gaunt chose an abandoned pier for their second meeting.

The tide was low, revealing black, glistening mud and the skeletal remains of old pilings jutting like broken ribs through the muck. The sky overhead was a sheet of cold pewter.

Gaunt stood alone at the end of the pier.

No backup.

No operatives.

No car.

Which meant only one thing: The backup was hidden.

"Mr. Pennyworth," Gaunt greeted as Alfred approached. "You've been thinking."

"About tellin' you to jump in the river," Alfred replied. "Yeah."

Gaunt smiled faintly. "Jokes. The last defense of a nervous conscience."

"I'm here," Alfred said. "Say what you want to say."

"What I want," Gaunt said, "is simple. I want loyalty."

"You want a thug."

"No," Gaunt corrected. "I want a believer." He gestured toward the water, where the tide lapped weakly against rotting wood.

"Do you know what this country will look like in five years? Ten? Drowning in crime. Drowning in compromise. Drowning in weakness. Unless strong men take the wheel."

"I've seen strong men take the wheel," Alfred said. "They drive straight into a ditch."

Gaunt's eyes hardened. The mask slipped a fraction, and Alfred saw the zealot beneath the gentleman's skin.

"Harwood sees potential in you," Gaunt said. "He remembers men like you from the last war."

"Then he misremembers," Alfred replied.

Gaunt stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You're a killer, Alfred. You may pretend otherwise, but the truth is carved behind your eyes."

Alfred didn't move. That was reaction enough.

Gaunt continued softly: "The Ravens will win. The country will change. And when it does, you and everyone you care about will benefit — if you stand with us now. But if you refuse..."

Alfred's jaw clenched.

"Say it."

"You will be swept aside," Gaunt murmured. "Men like you fall hard when the winds shift."

Alfred stared back coldly. "You threaten my girl again, I'll break your nose."

Gaunt's smile returned.

Cold.

Cruel.

Believing itself invincible.

"Your girl is irrelevant to the movement."

Alfred punched him. A clean, perfect blow that split Gaunt's lip and sent him staggering.

Immediately, the shadows moved. Ravens emerged from behind crates, from beneath the pier, from boats moored quietly nearby.

Silent and coordinated.

Four.

Six.

Ten.

Alfred raised his hands slowly. "Bit unfair, this," he said.

Gaunt wiped blood from his mouth. "You misunderstand. I admire your conviction. But you're no use to us until you choose a side."

"I have," Alfred said.

Gaunt shook his head sadly. "No, Mr. Pennyworth. You've been pretending to stand alone. But that's just standing in someone else's shadow."

He nodded. Two Ravens grabbed Alfred's arms. Alfred twisted — headbutted one, elbowed the second, dodged a baton strike, kicked another square in the knee.

But there were too many. They overwhelmed him with practiced efficiency — trained, coordinated, prepared. They forced him to his knees.

Gaunt crouched before him. "You will work for us," Gaunt said softly. "You will prove useful. Or you will disappear. Those are your only choices."

Alfred spat blood on Gaunt's shoes.

Gaunt sighed. "Stubborn man."

He stood.

"Bring him to the car."

Hands grabbed Alfred's shoulders.

Stormcloud.

Esme.

Thomas.

Martha.

His mum.

Faces flickered.

Choices narrowed.

He tensed for one desperate move—Then—A shot. One Raven dropped. Another shot. A second screamed and crumpled. Gaunt's head snapped toward the noise.

On the cliff above the pier, silhouetted against the dull sky, stood a woman with a long-range pistol.

Martha Kane.

"Let him go!" she shouted.

Chaos detonated instantly. Ravens scrambled for cover. Alfred surged upward, using the confusion to break free of the hands holding him.

Gaunt ducked behind a piling.

Martha fired again.

Harland appeared beside her; rifle braced with lethal precision, firing controlled bursts down onto the dock.

Thomas Wayne ran down the embankment, shouting Alfred's name as the Ravens returned fire.

What followed blurred into motion and noise: Gunfire cracking like thunder. Mud flying in sprays. Men shouting.

Gaunt disappeared into the fog. Ravens scatter in panic.

Harland dropping them with surgical accuracy.

Martha covers Thomas's descent. Thomas grabbed Alfred, pulling him toward the rocks. All of them run through salt and fog and gun smoke.

Alfred didn't look back. He just ran.