Disclaimer: Wonka-related material belongs to Roald Dahl (Oompa-loompas, etc). Some Soylent Green references are also present.

A.N. Springboard for a larger story. Set in a post-apocalyptic world. Rated T for language/violence. Reviews welcomed.

Leroy walked down a flight of stairs, the sound of his footfalls deafened by the roar of machinery from some hidden chamber. He had never been in this part of the factory before, and the knowledge made him uneasy. How many times had people gone missing in the more restricted areas? He had heard his share of stories. But the message in his hand reminded him that he had been sent to this place, so he wasn't trespassing. He was allowed. He paused at the bottom of the stairs, cautiously looking about. A hallway stretched away in front of him, closed doors on either side. The noise of machinery was louder now, and he assumed the device that was making it was in one of the nearby rooms.

"What are you doing here?" a voice asked sharply, and Leroy spun on his heel to see who had addressed him. He knew enough by now to look down, rather than at his own eye level, and surely enough there was a little man, an Oompa-loompa, standing behind him. He was dressed in a stained white uniform, his dark hair cropped short, military style. He glared up at Leroy, who had momentarily forgotten how to speak. "Well?"

"Uh...I...I have a m-message, sir. For Mr. Kungula, from the Executive offices."

The little man eyed him suspiciously. "Let me see that." he reached for the paper in Leroy's hand, but Leroy snatched it away. "I'm afraid they told me to take it directly to him, sir. His eyes only."

"That's odd," the other said, his suspicion growing. "But I guess the fools up there can do whatever the hell they want. Stay here while I inform Mr. Kungula of your presence." he went to the nearest door. It was normal-sized, with a smaller door set into it. The little man used the inner door, the portal closing behind him with a click. Leroy waited for a moment, taking a deep breath before moving. Now's my chance.

He went to the door on the other side of the corridor, trying the handle for the little door first. It would be foolish to use the larger one, he thought. Normal-sized people don't come down here often. He was unsurprised to find the little door unlocked. The knob turned easily, and he opened it, crouching to fit through the smaller entryway. Once he was through, his senses were assaulted with the full volume of the roaring machines, He felt an urge to cover his ears, but he ignored it as he looked for someplace to crouch behind. If someone saw he was in here, he might get arrested, imprisoned, or worse. He spotted a row of shelves not far from where he stood, and he sprinted to them, keeping light on his feet. The little men who worked down here were perceptive, he knew. They would feel his footsteps before they saw or heard him...the thought made him curse his terrible luck. Why had he, of all people, been sent to spy around down here? Getting one of those renegade Oompa-loompas to do it would have been best, or even a midget. A child would have been a better choice! Much better than a full-grown man. But then again, he knew what to do in the event he was caught. Not that I will, he vowed silently, taking note of his surroundings while crouching behind the shelves. From what he could tell, the machines were not far off; in fact they took up most of the room. Whirring mechanisms and bubbling vats were connected together, spewing steam and smoke and foul odors. Leroy peeked over the shelves (they were only four feet tall, so it wasn't hard), and noticed a long conveyor belt bringing something into the chamber. From where he stood, he couldn't quite make out what was on the belt, but whatever it was; the stuff was fed into the machines. Gears whirred, steam hissed, cutters sliced. And out of the other side, arranged neatly on the continuous conveyor belt, was an assortment of delicious looking candies. Leroy eyed the candy, mouth watering at the idea of eating them. He hadn't had a taste of high-grade candy for nearly three years...a long time. Checking to make sure no one was around, he ran to the candymaking machine, grabbing a handful of candy as he passed. There were hard sweets, peppermints, toffees...he greedily shoved one into his mouth as he stuffed the others in his pocket. He reached out for more, freezing when he heard a familiar voice.

"There he is! Get him!"

The tiny man who had met him at the stairs...Leroy knew he was in trouble now. He broke into a sprint, dodging behind the machines as a team of security Oompa-loompas pursued him. The benefit about being taller, he supposed, was that his legs were longer. He managed to outrun his pursuers, making a beeline for a ladder that led to a catwalk overlooking the room. Skipping every other rung, he made it to the top in five seconds, the Oompa-loompas just reaching the bottom. Leroy panted, wanting desperately to stop, but he had to get out of here. He turned around, eyes looking for some way to escape, but then he saw something that made him freeze involuntarily. The toffee in his mouth, partly chewed, sat on his tongue. The candy in his pocket lay cold, forgotten. Leroy's eyes were locked on the conveyor belt that was bringing material into the room. The material that the candies were made of. He hadn't been able to see what it was from so far away, but now...now he saw everything. And it made him sick. There were bodies on the conveyor belt. Naked bodies. Human bodies. They were positioned in ways that no living human could achieve without pain, so Leroy assumed they were dead. But they were still people. And they were being made into candy. Leroy wasn't quite sure what to do. The candy in his mouth suddenly felt too sweet, disgusting. He wanted to spit it out, but he couldn't move. The room was spinning, and he felt he might fall at any moment. The Security team suddenly appeared at the edge of the platform, breathless from climbing up. Eager to bring down their target, they ignored their burning chests and ran over to Leroy. They prepared to tase him, but they didn't need to. Leroy was already on his knees, the floor before him spattered with vomit. He looked up weakly as the little men surrounded him. "Wonka's candies...are people?"

They didn't answer him, but he knew by the grim looks on their faces that it was true. "Everyone on this planet is eating people." He said the words calmly, disturbed, but somehow at peace with the idea. "How do you fellows live with yourselves?" He asked this out of curiosity, completely forgetting these men were here to arrest him.

Again, they didn't reply. One produced a set of human-sized handcuffs and slapped them around Leroy's wrists. "You're under arrest, sir."

"Of course, of course." Leroy smiled, a bit crookedly. "Can't have me spreading the word about the company secret, can you?"

"You have violated Code Seven-Four-Nine-Alpha..."

"Telling everyone what they're really eating?"

"…your rights have hereby been stripped of you, and you are to be tried by a tribunal..."

"Just shut up!" Leroy shouted. "I get it!"

"…and you may face up to ten years in rehabilitation..."

"I said SHUT UP!" Leroy kicked the guard hard, sending the smaller man sprawling. The others drew their tasers, but Leroy didn't want to be shocked into submission; he wanted to die. He kicked another guard, his steel-toe boots crushing the little man's ribcage. The guard landed on the floor, blood flowing from his mouth. His uninjured comrades growled in rage. "Assault, verdict: guilty! Your punishment is death! Sentence is to be carried out immediately!"

Guns were drawn, fired, holstered. Leroy fell to the ground, dead.

Another Oompa-loompa, wearing a posh a business suit, came up onto the platform. His shiny name placard read Kungula. He glared at the three uninjured security guards, who were kneeling beside their fallen comrades.

"What happened here? Who's that?" he pointed to Leroy's body.

"A messenger, sir. He was snooping around in here, stealing candy."

Kungula snorted, unimpressed. "Do you know what the message was?"

"Um...no, sir. Mr. Lankugo just told us to get him."

"I see." Kungula walked over to Leroy's body, wrinkling his nose in disgust as he stepped over puddles of blood. He eyed Leroy's jacket pocket and reached in his hand finding a slip of paper crammed among some sticky pieces of candy. He pulled it out, eyes narrowing as he looked over both sides.

"What is it, sir?"

"Nothing," Kungula said, his voice dripping venom. "Absolutely bloody nothing. This paper is blank, an excuse to get in here. Those blasted renegades are trying to get witnesses. That's all." He crushed the paper in his hand, tossing it onto the ground. He gestured to Leroy. "Recycle him."

"What about..."

"Your dead friends?" Kungula smiled callously. "Recycle them too. After all, we can't let anything go to waste."

The guards nodded weakly, but they didn't move until Kungula had left.

"He's such a bastard."

"Shh...if he catches you saying that, he might recycle you."