Raven descended the stairs and found Aiden already seated at the breakfast table, quietly enjoying his meal. Taking the seat beside his son, Raven greeted him with a playful ruffle of his hair, earning a disgruntled glare in response.

 Chuckling at his son's reaction, Raven began to eat his breakfast as Alfred personally attended to their needs, serving them with precision and care.

Once they had finished their meal, Aiden's personal chauffeur arrived to drive him to school. Raven adjusted his suit and bid his son farewell before heading down to the basement.

In the expansive garage, rows of sleek cars lined up neatly. Raven's steady footsteps echoed through the space as he made his way to the corner, where he unveiled a shiny black Dodge Viper. The car's bonnet bore the menacing image of a golden viper snake with red eyes, a testament to its power and speed.

Entering the car, Raven buckled up as the monstrous sound of the engine roared to life, filling the garage with its thunderous growl. With practiced skill, he navigated the car out of the garage and onto the road, the engine's powerful rumble echoing in his ears.

Twenty minutes later, the car reached a muddy road flanked by dense trees and shrubs. As they approached, the guards at a large brown rusty gate recognized the familiar car and swiftly opened it, allowing Raven to pass through the gate.

Raven strode into the two-story building, with a weathered exterior. The front yard was barren, littered with patches of dried yellow grass, while the surrounding area was encircled by wire fencing, giving the impression of a place isolated from the outside world.

As he entered the building, guards stationed on either side of the entrance bowed respectfully in his presence. Raven wasted no time, immediately seeking out information from a nearby man.

"Where is he?" he demanded, his tone brooking no argument.

The man, head bowed in deference, responded promptly.

 "Brandon is interrogating him at the base," he answered, avoiding eye contact with Raven, a clear sign of deference to his authority.

Raven walked towards the base, the anguished screams of a man echoing off the walls. The base itself was dimly lit, casting long shadows that danced across the narrow corridors. Rows of cells lined the space, each one a grim reminder of the darkness that lurked within.

Inside one of the cells, a man was tied to a chair, his clothes stained with blood and in tatters. His eyes held a hollow gaze, devoid of any spark of life, as if the torment he had endured had drained him of all hope. 

Standing before him was a man of imposing stature, his burly figure imposing and his long blonde curls tied at the top of his head with tattoos adorned his vast expanse of his chest and right hand.

His mouth twitched as he stroked his beard, his gaze fixed on his captive, ""Are you testing my patience?" The man with the burly figure growled, his voice laced with menace. "Tell me who did it, and maybe I'll spare you."

The captive laughed hysterically, his bloody teeth gleaming in the dim light of the base. "You want me to believe that bullsh—"

Before he finished his word, the burly man swung the bat in his hand at the man. The spikes at the end of the bat tore the man's cheek, the skin got scraped off to make the flesh inside visible to one's eyes and blood gushed out from the fresh cut.

The loud screams of the man reverberated through the entire basement, yet the gang members paid him no heed.

"If you can't speak anything useful, better keep it shut," the burly man growled.

Hearing approaching footsteps, he released the bat in his hand and sauntered over to a nearby table, settling himself comfortably.

"Yo, long time no see," he greeted the newcomer with a grin as he entered the basement.

"Anything useful, Brandon?" Raven questioned his subordinate.

"Tch... tough nut to crack," Brandon shrugged his shoulders.

Raven picked up the spiked bat from the ground, its menacing presence adding an edge to the already tense atmosphere of the basement. With deliberate steps, he approached the man tied to the chair, his movements fluid and predatory.

Crouching down in front of the man, Raven used the back of the bat to lift his chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. The captive felt his throat go dry from all the screaming, his senses dulled by the relentless torment he had endured.

Struggling to focus, the man blinked weakly, his vision blurry and disoriented. Gradually, his eyes cleared enough to discern the figure before him—a man with a black mask covering half of his face, a golden viper engraved on the side.

A shiver of fear ran down the man's spine as he recognized the symbol, his eyes widening in terror. Sensing the man's terror, Raven's smirk widened, a dark glint of satisfaction in his eyes. 

He relished the fear he instilled in his enemies—it was a feeling he liked all too well.