Chapter Text
For the life of him, Charlie Bucket could not find Willy Wonka anywhere.
Again.
Not that he needed him now urgently, or that he had exhausted every possible spot the man could be, sometimes Charlie wondered if this factory was so big that if he walked to the farthest corner and drilled straight up, he'd be in another city, or even another country!!
Well that was a crazy thought, but he'd learned nothing was impossible for the world's greatest chocolatier, Willy Wonka! He still wished he's included some sort of map, or navigation or communication system. There was the glass elevator, but that was still out for repair to be reinstalled (Wonka loved his dramatic entrances and exits, but Charlie did hope he was all done doing them with the most convenient form of fast transportation in the factory), and there was most likely a telly or some sort fax device in the entrance lobby. If not he needed to make a note to get one installed, he knew Wonka prized his privacy but surely the level of isolation from society wasn't needed anymore?
But anyways none of that would help him find the man so he could ask a quick question about some logistics for when Charlie would be officially calling the shots. He hoped it wouldn't come off as too expecting, he was glad to didn't have to figure out how to run a business right away, but he should start preparing, right?
He sighed closing the door to the animate-but-not-sentient chocolate creatures. It was quite lovely visiting the rooms, wondering what nerik creation he would see next. But if he didn't find Wonka soon, he feared he'd become to enraptured by the all the fantastic experimentation candy products and forget the question.
He turned around, gathering himself. It was fine. He straightened the collar, of his first-hand shirt! His shoes weren't holey, his socks weren't worn. He took a step forward to prove it, then continued on, down the hallways, this one slowing to changing to a decent violetish-gurple color.
He ate three square meals a day, (not just candy no matter how much he was tempted), just like the rest of his family. Before, things weren't the best, in terms of certain quality of life, he had to admit. But he had his family, and positivity with optimism determined to keep going. And now after the life changing Chocolate factory visit, his shoes were more sturdy than ever and the future full of evermore possibility. Why with these things he was sure he could accomplish anything! He stopped as he realized the walls were completely violet now. Well he wasn't quite sure with this particular hallway was leading.
Willy Wonka never got lost, no matter how humongous his factory exponentially grew Charlie was sure. Then again, maybe that more to do with him never having a destination in mind. The man was an erratic genius,it was possible he could randomly plop down anywhere, make a revolutionary candy in 5 minutes after grabbing whatever ingredients were closest to him. Then decide on a whim to take a nap on the ceiling of the whizzy pop room.
Willy Wonka was a living legend. That was the papers said, what all the people talking about him in the street said. From the tiniest child to his bitterest rival, they all professed the demanding pretense just the mention of his name held. He cast a shadow larger than life. His personality certainly backed that up
But now that Charlie had come to know the man, at least more in many years than any other human had. Willy Wonka was funny, and childish, and unpredictable and random and at times scary. But sometimes...
Sometimes he seemed human. Just one or two moment, for the barest second he couldn't count. But it was there.
Well, either way it seemed like this wasn't getting anywhere. Maybe the man was already back in his half-office, Charlie had checked that earlier. But while it definitely wasn't the place Wonka was most often, it was the most common place Charlie was able to find him.
With an ounce of hesitation he stopped an oompa loompa carrying a cake-size chocolate wonka bar. A quick glance at the knife instead revealed it was actually a hyper-realistic chocolate bar cake. "Excuse, um, Bruce?" There were hundreds of oompa loompas, and ther weren't quite as discernible like humans which was Charlie was used to discerning, but he thought he was getting the hang of a few of their names.
The oompa loompa nodded. And charlie continued, while he couldn't rely on the oompa loompa's forever, and he did so hate having to interrupt them doing their jobs, they were quite helpful.
"Do you happen to know where Willy Wonka might be?" Bruce shook his head. Charlie's face fell, but really it was what he was expecting. "Oh, well then just the general direction that leads to the lobby?" The Oompa Loompa steadied one hand to hold the cake, before pointing with the other one.
Charlie looked ahead in that direction, well that seemed about right. He nodded his much thanks.
"Thank you, Bruce, I'll be off to find him another time I suppose."
Then they both set off to their destinations. Yes, this was definitely the way he came. He named the rooms he had visited to check for the Willy Wonka on his way here.
Vanilla Fudge Room.
Chuckle Taffy.
The spices room.
The sweetners room.
Unremarkable unmarked door
He turned the corner, there should be stairs right around-- wait.
He backtracked to the last door.
He hadn't seen that one before. Actually, maybe he had, but it was so...
He brushed a finger against the wooden frame, unlike all the other rooms there was no fetching color, no intriguing indication of what lay inside.
It was so normal?
The door had a handle, which some of the rooms did, but not most. Slowly like it would break if he touched it too fast, Charlie put his fingers around the door knob. It was dusty which seemed impossible. Even if Wonka had hundreds to thousands of rooms and didn't remember them all, they'd still never be so forgotten they'd get dusty.
What was in this room?
Charlie pushed the door open, revealing darkness. After a moment a dim light flickered on, misuse evident in that as well. The room seemed unremarkable, which in a chocolate factory made by Wonka was the most remarkable notion.
Feeling like a ghost for some reason, Charlie drifted close the equipment, it was just basic chocolate equipment, in fact it seemed a bit outdated. It was good condition. Charlie had no doubt, if he knew how to power it up, it would immediately go to work making chocolate. Neglect of ten years aside. He followed the machinery to the end, they were some chocolates already produced and wrapped up at the end. It wasn't packaged in any way that was to be sold. In fact Charlie had never seen any chocolate like these sold in the stores.
Not that that meant too much, there was a bunch of candy and whatnot produced here, that the public never got a lick of knowledge about.
Still, it was packaged, like it was meant to go somewhere. Or given to someone.
Charlie examined one of them. It was Thin, stringish pieces of chocolate. Kind of floppy, interesting texture. It seemed... noodle-y. He put it back in the container.
The other was a box full of chocolates. Small little square ones, in all the sections. He picked one up, examining it. After just a second of hesitation he bit into it. It was up to ten years old, but it was still Wonka chocolate. Worst it do, was float him up to the ceiling for a few minutes. He figured. Wonka would have posted some sort of warning otherwise.
Well, maybe.
Nonetheless, whether or not Wonka would have approved his bold tasting, nothing happened. But the flavor was interesting, it was apple, but dessert. Some sort of apple dessert flavor. Apple... strudel?
Even for the most creative and diverse chocolate empire in the world. How odd, Charlie thought.
The basic machinery, the noodle and apple strudel chocolate as well as some more carefully contained jars of chocolate sitting on the floor. That was everything in the room. So little, but it seemed. Sad. Almost haunted for some reason.
With a touch of remorse, for a situation Charlie knew nothing about. He closed the door. Leaving the room behind him. He would find the man soon,Willy Wonka and as well as ask him the question he originally had, he'd also ask him about this room. Why it was forgotten.
Or abandoned.