(Flashback)
Bats screech by once again, revealing young Bruce Wayne who had fallen into the well…
Young Bruce opened his eyes, what happened? Had he suddenly become unconscious? His mind raced, thinking back of what his crazy butler slave tried to do to him. He then found a small vile sitting right next to him. Bruce jumped back, but then saw closely for what it really was. A tiny firecracker was attached to it, the ends black for it had already gone off. Bruce picked it up and carefully unscrewed the lid. Placing it to his nose, it wrinkled with disgust and also strong resentment.
"Vinegar!" A loud cackle could be heard from high above and the thudding sound of a butler's fist slapping the ground.
"I'M GONNA TELL MY DADDY ON YOU!" Just then the laughter immediately stopped. Moments later he could hear a "worried voiced" butler talking to his father who had just throne down a rope to retrieve his fallen son.
"I didn't know what to do, Master Wayne, I'd give my very life to that boy of yours, I would. Such a fragile thing." Alfred's long fingers were clasped together as he looked down toward him.
"YOU LIER!" Alfred stuck out his tongue as Mr. Wayne began to descend downward.
"It's ok, Bruce, its ok." His father said calmly.
"NO IT IS NOT 'OK!'" Bruce yelled in a high pitched british accent.
"Settle down, Bruce."
"The slave tried to kill me!"
"Again?" Mr. Wayne smirked. He glanced up shaking his head, Alfred, eyes closed, nodded back.
"It's true! Don't you see?"
"I see you've been causing a lot of mischief young man, now come on."
"But… but…" Bruce stammered. Alfred grinned a yellow toothed smile.
"Will we be needing the ambulance, sir?" Alfred inquired, as both of them were walking up the steps to the manor. Mr. Wayne was carrying Bruce who was keeping a watchful eye on the butler.
"I'll set the bone and take him for an x-ray later."
"Very good, sir." Waiting at the top was Rachel and her mother, who was very concerned about the horrible dilemma.
"I'm very sorry, sir. I've told Rachel…"
"DARN RIGHT YOU SHOULD BE SORRY! That little gremlin!"
"That's enough Bruce." His father spoke firmly.
"My daddy will run you clean through the roof with all the hospital bills you'll have to pay for my full recovery!"
"That's enough Bruce!"
"Then when we sue you, you'll have to go live out on the streets and eat trash like the rest of Garbage Gotham!"
"THAT'S ENOUGH!"
"Here, Master Wayne." Alfred spoke cooly, his face blank. "Let me take the boy to his room and then I'll fix him a nice pot of tea… You poor boy." He held out his arms. Bruce glared at him, clinging tightly to his father's neck.
As they pasted Rachel and her mom, Bruce placed the treasured arrow head in the small palms of his rival.
"Here, take it, you can have it." Bruce mumbled. They walked past.
Rachel studied it a bit. A smile began to grow slowly onto her face. She shrugged with a sigh.
"I guess he's not that mean and nasty after…" Before her thought was finished, however, it instantly disappeared from her eyes. Flared and with fists clenched, she saw Bruce swinging it in circles on a line of fishing wire, all the while laughing silently to himself.
"BRUCE, YOU DIRT BAG! I HOPE YOU DROP OFF THE EDGE OF THE WORLD… AND DIE!"
"Rachel Dawes!" Her mother scolded, as Mr. Wayne and Alfred went into their abode.
"Took quite a fall, didn't we Master Bruce?" Bruce wanted to sock him.
"And why do we fall Bruce? So we can learn to pick ourselves up." Alfred let them go the rest of the way, as he looked on.
"I'll be there soon to tuck you in, Master Brucey." He had that same yellow grin.
"That won't be necessary Alfred."
"Very well Master Wayne." He frowned. Bruce put a thumb to his nose, wiggling his fingers.
"Blast that boy!"