A/N: Those of you waiting for OneDepp, sorry for its slowness...I've got a lot on my chocolaty little plate at the mo hehe! So feel free to enjoy my other stories, like...this one.

The temple rumbled behind them. Willy dashed through a mock-ancient maze, blocking out the rantings of his female escort. It wasn't his fault she couldn't keep her grip on the cane he held out for her. She shouldn't have gotten coated head to foot in chocolate – oh the poor chocolate – what was she going to contaminate next? The woman was a nightmare!

"Will you slow down?" Isabelle yelled shrilly.

Mr Wonka couldn't blot that one out. Even the roaring din of the submerging temple was lower in volume. He stopped so abruptly that she almost collided with him.

"Lady…"

Isabelle looked up at the chocolatier with uncertainty, stone-coloured plaster raining around them.

"Allow me to give you the answer to all the questions you could possibly ask me at this very moment in time," he said cynically. "I DON'T CARE!"

Without pausing to see her expression, Willy dragged her along once more and quickened his pace. They reached a cul-de-sac but before Isabelle had time or will to protest, he rapped his knuckles on a plastic brick in the wall. The wall ahead of them fell away to reveal another passage that met with a cross section.

Mr Wonka whipped his cane out of Isabelle's hands and barred her from moving ahead of him.

"Wait."

Seconds later, a boulder-sized gobstopper decorated in black and white stripes bulldozed through the crosswise passage. Willy nearly jabbed the florist in the stomach as he thrust the end of his cane back to her and pulled her quickly past the crossroads.

Isabelle hurried after him through this now seemingly never-ending corridor and winced at the sight of brown liquid seeping up through the floor tiles. In her panic she stumbled and had to catch herself against the wall. She felt a sickening lurch in her stomach when the brick she touched slid inwards with a soft click.

"Shoot," said the voice ahead of her. "Miss Vane?"

"Yes?" she asked, swallowing.

"Run."

Almost immediately, thousands of tiny pellets shot out of holes in the wall, peppering them as they bolted past. They stung like hailstones.

Willy and Isabelle dashed along as the passage inclined upwards, the sound of the rushing chocolate behind deafening. He stopped her again when they reached level ground. A chasm of at least twelve feet spread before them.

Mr Wonka snatched a thick cord hanging down beside the end of the passage. It looked suspiciously like strawberry bootlaces woven together.

"Come quickly!" He had to shout. "Grab this!"

Willy made sure her hand had hooked inside a loop of cord, for the amount of sticky goo covering her would certainly have been too slippery, and pushed her out into the void.

Isabelle shrieked over the gap and tumbled into the passage on the other side. Mr Wonka caught the rope on its swing-back. He chanced a look behind him and whimpered. The chocolatier swung after her just as the tidal wave of chocolate burst up the corridor and dropped away into the chasm.

"W-wha-." Isabelle caught her breath. "What the hell was all that? And why were there bullets in there?"

"They weren't bullets," said Mr Wonka, who was inspecting a crack in his sunglasses rather ruefully. "They're chocolate raisins."

"What!" Isabelle cried in disbelief. "But why?"

"Why not?"

The florist gave up.

There was a ladder embedded in the wall nearby, which the chocolatier clambered. He struck the dusty trapdoor overhead with the tip of his cane. It creaked open and slammed onto the floor of his Inventing Room, much to the surprise of a few passing Oompa Loompas.

Once they had both reached the safety of this level, Mr Wonka noticed Isabelle backing away from the hobbit-sized onlookers.

"W-what are they?" she asked uneasily.

"It's not what, it's who," Willy replied in distaste. "They're my workers, and darn good ones at that."

"But they're the…people I saw in the temple. They put me in that tank with that thing. What was that?"

Mr Wonka continued to lead her but without the aid of his cane this time. He was surprised that his 'guest' hadn't been distracted from her questioning by all the bizarre machinery in the room. She carried on, oblivious, past contraptions billowing smoke; some flashing lights like spaceships; some sending strangely formed objects spouting out like popcorn.

"Liquorice squid," he said, at first giving Isabelle the idea that he suffered from Tourettes. "It's a little piece of decoration filled with a load of infinitesimal motors. I didn't think my -." He hesitated. "- workers would ever use it to hurt anyone."

Isabelle frowned but decided not to press further for the time being.

"Where are we going?" she wondered.

"To get you cleaned up," said Willy. "You're upsetting my décor."

He arrived at the far side of the room where a silver door twinkled at them expectantly. The chocolatier took out a bunch of keys from inside his coat and used a likewise silver one with the lock.

As soon as Isabelle had stepped inside the next room, she had to resist the urge to rub her chocolate-coated eyelids. It was like walking into a five-star hotel. The bedroom lavish with silver curtains (though the 'window' appeared to be painted onto the wall) and carpet, mahogany furniture and ocean blue wallpaper. There was also a desk piled somewhat untidily with stacks of scrawled-on paper.

"Is this where you sleep?" she asked, though quietly for she was aware that her questioning was probably getting annoying by now.

"Nah, this is Charlie's room."

Before Isabelle could stop herself, she blurted: "Oh, you have a son?" She managed to correct herself at the look of horror on his face. "Sorry. Charlie…he's that boy who won your competition, isn't he?"

Willy nodded, fighting a desire to regurgitate.

"He's on vacation," he said. "Now, there's a bathroom through there." He gestured to another door on the left. "I'll go get something of Mrs Bucket's you can borrow when you're done, 'kay? She shouldn't mind."

He grimaced at the pool of chocolate collecting on the expensive carpet about Miss Vane's feet, but forced a smile when she looked at him. It was a curious look, as though she were deciding something about him.

Then she said "thank you" and trudged into the bathroom.

Mr Wonka sighed wearily and closed the door on his way out. It was going to be a long night.