"How did we get here? How did it all come...to THIS?"
INT. A SMALL SIDE-CAVERN-NIGHT
An aged hand elegantly writes the above words, the first sentances in a leather-bound journal. REVEAL: an old man, ALFRED PENNYWORTH, in formal butler clothes, writes:
ALFRED: "Perhaps the answers are hidden, here, in all of this."
Dozens of boxes cover the floor, all piled with myserious, intriguing items. Linign the walls of the small cavern are museum-like display cases...all empty. Waiting.
"Now tht I am retired and near-useless, my employer has graciously granted me this long over-due task: cataloging all these items and mementoes from "The Early Years."
Alfred reaches into a box, picks up and dusts off two items: a book, and a faded photo of young people, faces full of promise. He stares at it with great sadness and loss. He writes:
"And so, to aid future historians, or more likely future prosecutors--I begin this narrative, my attempt to understand the series or events that finally led my employer and I, two seemingly rational men, to our current remarkable--some would say alarming state of affairs."
Alfred stares at the photo, it fills the frame, DISSOLVES:
INT. A LONDON POLICE STATION FRONT DESK-NIGHT