Bruce Wayne never wanted for anything in his early years. As the
only son of Thomas and Martha Wayne and sole heir to the Wayne
family fortune, he could always have what he wanted. He never
really had anything to worry about either.  Until the day. It
was August 12th, 1994. Bruce had been eight years old when he
was out playing with his friend, Rachel. It was your usual kids
game, hide and seek, and he had got the perfect spot; there was
a boarded up well on the grounds of his home, Wayne Manor. He'd
climbed into it, crouching so his eyes were just level with the
top of the well. It wasn't until he moved that he heard it; the
boards creaking under his weight.  He moved to climb out, but it
was too late. The boards gave way underneath him, causing him to
fall through into the well. Fortunately, the drop hadn't been a
huge one, about seven or eight feet. Not enough to cause lasting
damage since he'd been crouched, but enough to twist his ankle.
As he moved his leg round to try and see it, the bats came,
flying