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Imperial Residence, Southern England

"...it's nothing but a desolate wasteland, crawling with the most terrible beasts known to mankind...hornswagglers and snozzwangers, and those terrible, wicked whangdoodles. And the Oompa-loompas, so small and defenseless, were gobbled up left and right. A whangdoodle would eat ten of them for breakfast and come galloping back for a second helping. So in great secrecy, I transported them here to my factory, away from all the snozzwangers and hornswagglers and whangdoodles. They're safe, and happy, and free..."

The sound track ended with a click, a thick silence following the rich voice of the recorded speaker, who had been nothing more than a paid actor rather than the man who had actually spoken the words at one time or another. Of course, the true speaker had always been reclusive, even before his mysterious death. These had been among the most cherished words of William Wonka.

A hand reached up to the disc player, pressed the EJECT button, and collected the disc that emerged, the person to which it belonged sighing with wistfulness and disconsolate demeanor. It was all too long ago, he thought to himself, turning the silicon device in his hands, pausing at the reflective side to study his facial features. His eyes, bloodshot and tired, his face painted a clownlike pattern of orange and white, and his hair...dyed a ridiculous shade of green! He sighed again, too saddened to feel anything close to disdain. It was all part of the Empress's game. The Oompa-loompas, like most of her "pets", had been mere curiosities for a while...she would have them kept in cages and fed treats as if they were some kind of animal. Then, to the Loompas' horror, she wanted to have them perform for her, as a little dog would for his master. It was an act of shaming, they realized, a way to break them of their pride. Many of them refused to dance, refused to sit and lie down and roll over and fetch...but the Empress was not perturbed. If someone didn't listen to her, she would see they would pay for it. And those Loompas did…all the way. Thirty lashes became the alternative to singing and dancing for her Highness's pleasure, fifteen lashes across the back, and fifteen against the chest. And there was no guarantee the Whip Bearer would hit the correct place every time. The first torture session rendered Loompas with bloody backs, chests, legs, faces, shoulders, and other places that are too painful to mention. And after seeing the pain and suffering caused to the first set of slaves, well...it didn't take long until they decided that shame was better than mutilation.

Soon there were performances held, Oompa-loompas singing praises to the Empress Salt and her glorious reign, often in dramatic songlike form reminiscent of the Russian Red Army Choir. They danced, performing delightful acrobatic maneuvers that sometimes ended in a gruesome fashion, because the performers were not allowed to practice. When this happened, however, the Empress was more than pleased...her laughter could be heard from her place on the balcony overlooking the theater stage where these charades were held. And though these desperate attempts to serve the Empress was enough to keep the Loompas alive (or most of them anyway), it served to make them sadder and sadder. The cheer they showed when they danced or sang was only an act, of course, much like the kind that circus performers put on with their makeup and other costumes before going before an expectant crowd. No one wants to see a sad face, or a depressed actor, because it makes for bad show business...and in the Loompas' case could get them punished, or worse, executed. So the Oompa-loompas put a smile on when they played for the Empress and her officers and officials, who were entertained...for a while. When Her Majesty finally became bored with them, she thought to put them back on display as before, which the Loompas wanted more desperately than ever, but she had a revelation. The Oompa-loompas, being part of the human gene pool, were able to do things that the Empress's other pets could not, namely follow her orders. She had many times before tried to find a solution to this...she got trained squirrels, but none would listen to her, only pelting her with nuts and garbage and the like, so of course she had them executed. She tried androids and service-bots, which were obedient enough…but what she really wanted was something that could fear her. And now, looking into the cages of fearful Oompa-loompas, she realized she had exactly what she wanted.

Empress Salt did the worst thing to an Oompa-loompa that could ever have happened: she made them her slaves. She had six to be her personal attendants, ten to handle her calls and letters and other things like that, four to dress her, three to relay messages for her, hundreds of others to do various housework and things within the enormous estate that had become her primary residence: food tasters, jesters, even one Loompa to read to her before bed (she had forgotten how to read because she didn't have to). And as if this form of bondage were not enough, she made them all wear ridiculous costumes for uniforms...white overalls and brown-striped shirts, which were both idiotic in appearance and very uncomfortable to wear. They worked night and day, getting little if any sleep, and had terrible nightmares whenever they did sleep. Poor Oompa-loompas. The one holding the disc sighed again, placing the disc in a protective case before slipping it into his uniform. He had saved the disc from being destroyed so long ago, and was able to actually play it during his break, though he had to be extremely careful. If anyone discovered what he had...

"Slaaave!" The piercing voice of Veruca Salt echoed down the hall, and the Loompa stiffened, taking a moment to collect himself. She wouldn't know, she couldn't possibly. She just wants something, I hope.

He ran out into the large living area, where the Empress was reclining atop a luxurious sofa, wrapped in soft furs and robes that made her look almost beautiful...had it not been for the ever-present scowl on her face. And that was not the only thing wrong. She had been very beautiful once…and still was from a distance…but up close the damage was visible. More and more cosmetics were needed to hide what her favorite indulgences were steadily doing to her…the dark bags under her eyes, the premature wrinkles in her skin. Her nose bled frequently from the things she inhaled, and her arms, the Loompa knew, were covered in countless dark lines beneath her silk sleeves, marking where she injected herself with some of her various cocktails of drugs. Not that she was under the influence at the moment…unfortunately. Her eyes locked on the Loompa. "Slave, I want chocolate."

"Y-yes, milady." The Loompa reached for a box of Chadworth candy that was sitting on a glass table, no further than a foot away from where the Empress sat. Two young Oompa-loompa women were just cleaning up after giving the Empress a manicure, and Her Highness clearly did not wish to mar her freshly-painted nails. But even under other circumstances she hated to exert herself, and so she sometimes ordered a servant to feed her anyway…just to drive home the point that she could have anything she wanted, anytime. She tilted her head back, mouth open wide. The Loompa plucked a chocolate from the assorted sweets and stretched to drop it into her mouth, grimacing at the stink of alcohol on her breath. Why, oh why?…Thousands of men around the world would kill for the chance to drop a bit of chocolate in your mouth, you nasty whore, but somehow it falls to me…He paused, strongly reminded of someplace he had been before, or rather, one of his predecessors. The perfect position for assassination...

"WELL?" the Empress's harsh demand startled him out of his thoughts and he jerked, the chocolate flying out of his hands and onto the floor. The Loompa jumped off the couch and dove for it, bashing his head against the glass table in the process. The Empress snorted, amused, but grimaced when he returned with the chocolate. "I don't want it anymore; it's been on the floor and it's dirty. Throw it away."

The Loompa nodded, and proceeded to walk toward one of the numerous miniature waste incinerators that were located around the estate. But he couldn't throw away chocolate... he pretended to, but slipped the candy into his pocket, then returned to the Empress. She gave him her trademark glare. "Well, my appetite for chocolate is gone...besides, I never thought much of Chadworth's goods anyway, despite him owning all the candy companies out there." She propped her feet up on the table, sighing in some form of contentment. She gestured to the Loompa with the wave of a hand. "I want you to go away now, servant. I will call if I want anything else."

The Loompa bowed, though she couldn't see, grateful that she had the mercy to actually sleep once in a while. He rushed out of the room and pressed his back against the wall, reaching into his pocket and grabbing the chocolate, staring at it with a greedy look in his eyes. It had melted a little in his pocket and stuck to his fingers, but that scarcely mattered. He hadn't had chocolate for as long as he could remember, just the same rations of stale bread, water, cabbage, potatoes, and moldy bits of whatever was thrown away in the imperial wastebins. It was enough to keep the Oompa-Loompas alive, of course, but made them crave one food more than ever: the cacao bean. And chocolate is made out of the cacao bean, the Loompa said to himself as he admired the sticky thing in his hands. After a moment, he ate the whole thing, devouring it in one bite. And oh, how creamy and wonderful it tasted! It was low quality chocolate (having been made by Chadworth, who liked quantity rather than quality), but after all that bland food it was the best chocolate he had ever tasted. He licked his fingers, savoring the taste, and was disappointed when the candy was completely dissolved in his mouth, gone. But the taste remained, however, ingrained into his mind forever, like the Oompa-loompa desire for the cacao bean. And he felt different, to say the least…strange, dangerous thoughts began to whirl in his mind, thoughts that were almost alien to him, yet at the same time strangely familiar...this isn't the way it's supposed to be.