I do not own anything from Charlie and the Chocolate factory. All rights and likenesses belong to Roald Dahl, Johnny Depp and Tim Burton. No profit is being garnered from this work. Sorry about the delay – sick kids don't do much to let one write in peace. Warm vomit down the back first thing in the morning though is better than a cup of coffee waking you up. I don't think Starbucks would go for it though.– Stealth Phoenix
Chapter 58
The sun was warm on the flagstone patio and he luxuriated in the sensation soaking into his aching bones. Long work hours and a grueling schedule made moments like this so much more precious.
The sounds of children playing inside echoed through the open doorway and he had to grin at the outraged scolding as his daughter was caught rummaging the kitchen…again.
The phone rang and he ignored it – tilting his head back and closing his eyes, allowing his thoughts to drift for the moment.
"It's for you. Incidentally, did you tell Lily she could have a Pop Tart?" asked his beloved's melodious tones. She drifted closer, handing him the cordless phone, a playful smirk twisting her lips.
"Not me. Don't let her drag me into the middle of this argument. I think Pop Tarts should count as breakfast, but that's just me." He protested, grabbing the handset from her.
The sounds of arguing children in the kitchen had her scurrying back inside, the smooth lines of her bottom twitching beguilingly under the sundress and he watched her go with a speculative eye – he'd have to follow up on that thought in a bit, but business now.
"Yeah?" he asked whoever was on the other end.
"It's Spencer. How've you been, dove?" came his friend's light tenor.
"Spence! Glad to hear from you. Are you alright? I heard about the attack," he said, sitting upright and draping tattooed arms over his lanky legs.
"We're good for the moment – it looked a lot worse than it was. Listen, have you been watching the news?"
"A little bit. What specifically?"
"Veronica got kidnapped."
Breath caught in his throat. That pretty girl from the party?
Spencer continued before he was able to speak, "She's back alright now, but there are still some bad elements floating about and you know how her significant other feels about the media."
He nodded, "I can agree with Willy about that. Surprised the hell out of me when I discovered who I'd been talking to at the party. Not that I don't love hearing your dulcet voice, and seeing that I doubt you would be calling me out of the blue about this, I'm guessing something's up."
Spencer sighed heavily over the phone and he felt a flutter of doubt in the depths of his stomach.
"I need a favor. Could you play decoy with the media to draw the attention away from them for a week or so?"
He winced at the request. His relationship with the media was not cordial at best and now Spencer wanted him to play gazelle for that pack of hyenas?
"I dunno Spence. That's an awfully big favor…" he wheedled.
"I'll throw in a wedding dress. I know you've been thinking about taking the big plunge after watching Reggie and I. Sadly enough, I am taken, so you'll have to do with that lovely woman who finds you strangely attractive."
"Am I getting that predictable?" he asked, swiping a hand across his smiling face.
"No – but she is the mother of your children. You'd be a bastard if you didn't at least make the offer. Rogue that you are, you've got your own honor to answer to."
"Fair enough. I know Vanessa loves your work, and it gets me nookie points for later on. Okay then, I'll do it – but only until next Wednesday, I've got my own business to tend you know." He said, his grin widening at the opportunity for mischief this presented.
"Thank you, I know they'll appreciate it," Spencer said gratefully. "Get a hold of Donna at the studio – she'll have the costume out and ready to go."
"You owe me," he growled and hung up the phone. Hmmm…the opportunity to play the elusive Chocolatier off the big screen. I can think of half a dozen spots around town to play peek-a-boo with the paparazzi…not to mention it might get me in with Legendary studios as the future Edward Nygma…
Standing and stretching, Johnny Depp walked inside to where his children sat at the breakfast bar, happily chomping on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches set on plates by his significant other. He snuggled up to Vanessa, kissing her lightly on the neck and enjoying her squirm in delight.
"Vous inquiéteriez-vous pour escorter un confiseur timide pour quelques visites autour de la ville pour les prochains couples des jours?" he whispered into her ear.
She turned in his arms and replied in English, "What are you up to?"
He gave her his best award-winning smirk, "You'll see."
--
While the exhausted couple slept in the next room, Sherman relayed what information he had gathered about Veronica's abductors to Tupik-Ra and Sni-Ki. As the head of Willy's cyber team, he sat before three monitors and two keyboards to ravage the Internet for information. His Matrix t-shirt hung to his knees, but his kung-fu was strong.
"Okay – Here's a satellite image of the area," Sni-Ki said, using his cursor to drag a black and white picture and zooming in so road names appeared. There were three dirt roads in the described area that matched her description. Frowning at the picture he grunted softly to himself, "Damn Google Earth – I'm getting more recent pictures, these are from three months ago."
Sni-Ki opened a new window and set to rapidly typing and flying through a variety of screens, seeing on in particular the lawyer blanched.
Tupik-Ra glanced at the tiny man – Sni-Ki was short even by Oompa Loompa standards, "The DefenseNet? Isn't that illegal?"
"Only if you get caught," Sni-Ki snorted. "Are you going to narc on me?"
Tupik-Ra grinned, "Only if I start getting questions. It'll help if you can get me pictures of Eva Longoria naked."
Two sets of male eyes glazed over at the thought. They quickly snapped out of it and the tiny hacker went to work.
The new images were quickly found and slapped up on the main screen, "Okay! This is more like it – 20 minutes ago. There's the white truck, right were she said it was. Now out of the three roads, all have shacks, but only one has a green port-a-potty."
"Sweet. I'll give the information to the Police when I contact them. Can you get the license number off the truck as well?" Tupik-Ra asked.
The tiny hacker just gave him a scathing look before pushing the doll-sized glasses back up his nose and returning his attention to the screen without comment. Within seconds the screen was zoomed in and Sni-Ki wrote down the tag number on a post-it note before handing it to the taller man.
As the lawyer walked away, Sni-Ki turned his vindictive grin back to the computer screen and brought up the screen he'd been working on. Victor's face, with an expression of wide-eyed surprise had been pasted onto pictures of male models at a gay internet site.
Considering what the large hairy man behind him was doing – he had the right expression.
"No one messes with my boss," Sni-Ki growled, working on pasting another Victor face to a picture involving cross-dressing and a little S&M for good measure.
Sni-Ki quickly fired off several anonymous e-mails to the L.A. tabloids with the link to the site. PhotoShopping like that was a bitch even if hacking the sites were fun – but he was the best at what he did and soon Victor would be swarmed by some of the most aggressive paparazzi in the world asking embarrassing questions.
Meanwhile Tupik-Ra grabbed the phone and his notebook, dialing the task force number in charge of finding the missing woman. The detective who picked up the phone was wary of another crank call at first, but quickly perked up when Tupik-Ra relayed the information.
"Why didn't you call us before picking her up," the detective growled. "It makes tracking down the location more difficult. She's going to have to come in for questioning."
"When she awakens, I will be delighted to pass on your request," Tupik-Ra said in his most haughty Queen's English. "But for now, I wished to pass on what she had told us about where she was held captive. Depending on how quickly you can act, you might actually catch one of the scoundrels."
There was dark muttering on the other end and he grinned at some of the words that leaked through, "Why Detective, do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"
"Location?" the detective asked shortly. Tupik-Ra gave him Veronica's description as well as the physical address they had determined the shack to be at. He also passed on the truck's license plate. "Veronica claims to have smashed her captor in the head with a large pan to make her escape – this is after flinging hot oil in his face mind you, so there's a chance that if he's not at the shack, he will be in a hospital."
"When Ms. Carmichael awakens, would you mind terribly encouraging her to please come down to grace us with a formal statement. We would like to actually meet the woman who we've been slaving away for the past two days to locate," the Detective said with an impressive amount of sarcasm in his voice.
"I will. All joking aside Detective, we really do appreciate your efforts and hard work – even if the victim in question managed to rescue herself. That's only one half of the battle we fight," Tupik-Ra said, making an effort to smooth ruffled feathers. "Now we just have to nail the bastards."
"I agree with you there Mr. Tupik," the man returned.
After he hung up, he scribbled several notes to himself on the notepad. The legal proceedings on the American side of the house were unfamiliar to him and he'd have to do some research to ensure that nothing was left to chance while prosecuting Brahm and his merry mercenaries.
Feeling eyes on his back, he looked up to see L.A. regarding him with a perplexed expression. His heart jumped and suddenly he felt like a flock of birds had taken to flight in his stomach.
"What's up?" he asked, trying for casual.
"I was just getting ready to head out to get Veronica some clothes. We have no idea where her suitcases or anything else is. I know the media's going to want pictures, but what about the Police?" L.A. asked, losing the distant look once he spoke.
Tupik-Ra tapped his chin thoughtfully, "Bag up the clothes she was wearing – I'm sure if American television is anything to go by, the CSI unit will want to look for evidence to support what happened. They want her to make a formal statement – add in questioning and it'll be a couple of days before we can get out of here tangle-free."
The woman nodded, "Alright, enough for about five days, just in case." L.A. hesitated, looking at him thoughtfully, "There's something up with you. You seem…different."
"I'm doing what I was trained to do – maybe that's it. It's not often the lawyer takes the lead in most of the situations Won-Ka gets himself into," He suggested.
"No…you just seem. Larger… more alive," she said.
"Does that bother you?" he asked, getting up to stand closer to her.
L.A. blushed slightly, her thoughts had been taking abrupt turns into the gutter when contemplating Tupik-Ra lately, "No, not at all. I'm just trying to pinpoint what it is."
"Maybe this is it…" he breathed, taking the opportunity to lean down and collect a soft kiss from her.
L.A. sighed happily as Tupik-Ra kissed her. It was like it had been before she grew – her head tipping up at the right angle to devour his lips, his hands coming up to rest at her waist.
Breaking away, she was dazed, "I think I need to get going. I have no idea when they're going to wake and I want to make sure that she's got something clean to put on."
Tupik-Ra grinned that heart-melting smile at her, "Alright, run away for now – but remember, I am a hunter and will eventually find you."
For the first time in a long while, L.A. grinned back a gleam in her eye, "I hope so."
She walked out the door with a flirtatious wink and he had to smile – this was the woman he'd fallen in love with. She'd become so serious and sad when she had not returned to her normal size and it filled his heart with joy to see her flirting with him.
The smile slipped off his face and the fluttering birds returned as he realized that she was growing closer to the realization of what had changed about him. He pulled the candy wrapper from his pocket and glanced down at it.
Wonka's Stretching Taffey – Oompa Loompa consumption only
Lasts 12-18 hours – Reach For The Stars!
Crumbling the wrapper in his fist, he glanced at the clock with concern. It had in fact been more than 36 hours since he'd eaten the taffy and he had not returned to his normal size.
He hoped his employer would be able to come up with a solution to this problem and fast. If it could be determined what was wrong with him, maybe the same could be said for L.A.
…after a few dates of course.
He wasn't one to turn down an opportunity when it was presented to him.
--
He was falling
Twisted faces of those he'd wronged leered at him from the pulsating walls. He plunged, twisting and helpless into the hellish light below.
High pitched giggling from the devils as they clung to the wall and jeered at his horror. He could feel the heat rising as he fell deeper into what seemed to be a living volcano made up of his victims.
He could see the pale cold visage of Satan above him, the violet eyes like supernovas in the night sky, his sharp white teeth widening in Cheshire cat smile at his plight. That cold smile was the most terrifying thing he'd ever seen and his heart seized in mortal terror.
Screaming in terror, he twisted back toward the burning light ahead. The light grew brighter, but even as his eyes started to boil in their sockets from the heat, he could start to make out details. There was no lava, no molten fire as he expected – instead, a woman seemed to be the source of the luminescence. She shone like the sun.
Bright and terrible she was clothed in flames, her arms wide and welcoming, but a inhuman fury in her eyes. Upon facing such terrible beauty, he wanted to fall before her, begging for forgiveness, for mercy. But her serene expression promised no such relief – his torture would be legendary.
The goddess smiled with malicious glee as he futilily twisted, plunging toward her, he could feel the flames flickering at his skin, the heat causing his skin to burn and peel from the wet muscle underneath. He screamed as he realized how hopeless his fate was as he recognized the woman.
"VERONICA!!"
Victor sat up in his bed, gasping and flinging up a protective hand from the terrible grasp of his nemesis. His heart was pounding in triple time as he heard her siren-like scream as he escaped her clutches.
For a long moment, he cringed weeping like a child, expecting a burning hand to touch him. Then realizing that there was nothing there, he braved a peek above his arms.
There was another scream and he flinched.
He was alone in his bedroom, the sheets torn from their moorings and tossed to the floor. The sun was rising in the sky, his blinds open to the bright rays.
The phone screamed from its bedside perch and he made a convulsive grab just to stop the horrible noise.
"Hello?" he asked, his voice harsh from screaming.
"Mr. Brahm? This is Michael Hofferman from The L.A. Daily Press. Pictures of you have recently been identified on a website with homosexual pornography. Would you care to comment? Also, is there anyone you are currently in a relationship with? Are there any lavender wedding bells in the future?"
"What?...What are you talking about?" Victor mumbled, feeling chilled as the air conditioning kicked on and dried the cold sweat from his body. He was still clad in his clothes from the day before.
"Your picture appeared on as the…um…ridden party. How long have you been out of the closet?"
"I don't know what you're talking about. If you go to press with this crap, I'll sue you for slander," Victor snapped and slammed the phone back into the cradle.
Still shaking from the intensity of the dream, he sat up and discovered to his embarrassment and shock that he'd lost control of his bladder in his sleep. The damp clothing had chaffed during his nightmare and now a nasty rash had developed in his crotch and inner thighs.
Grimacing, he rose and stripped on his way to the shower.
What the hell had happened last night? He wondered as he stepped into the shower. He remembered lunch at El Duche in Hollywood Hills, and getting home and seeing that hot little piece in the kitchen, but nothing else after that other than nightmares.
He shuddered again at the intensity of his dreams – nothing like that had ever happened before and he prayed that it never would again.
If nothing else, the avenging goddess in his dream convinced him that getting rid of Veronica Carmichael as soon as possible was a necessity. Victor's libido in the matter had scrambled off to hide in the corner after that nightmare and just making her disappear forever was number on his to-do list - no playing, just take care of business.
Toweling off, he hobbled to the bedroom to grab the bedside phone. He dialed the number off a small slip of paper and waited for the phone to pick up.
"Que?" asked a deep male voice.
"It's me. Get rid of her," Victor commanded shortly, "I don't care where or how, just get rid of her."
"Problem – she's already gone," answered the voice.
"What?" Victor breathed incredulous.
"She escaped this morning – knocked the shit out of Luis and stole his truck. He got picked up by the cops about twenty minutes ago and taken to Cedar-Sinai."
"Dump this phone. You've got half the payment – take it and make yourself scarce," Victor ordered and hung up the phone.
Oh shit.
The phone rang again and he saw Raoul's number on the ID. He picked up the phone and corralled what little composure he had left.
"Good morning Victor. You've got a 1 p.m. meeting with Mr. Slugworth this afternoon at my hotel in conference room "C". We can't wait to hear what you've got for us," Raoul purred.
Victor broke out in a cold sweat, this could not be happening right now.
"I...I'm coming down with a nasty bug, Raoul. Could I delay until tomorrow?" he sputtered.
"No. Mr. Slugworth's time is much more valuable than yours. Be there or consider the matter closed for good," Raoul's self-satisfied voice was cold and felt like a tomb slamming shut to Victor.
"Alright – I'll be there, just expect a lot of bathroom breaks," he managed in a faint voice before hanging up.
Double shit.
At least this was something he'd planned for. He opened the bedside nightstand and pulled out a plain wire-bound notebook. Inside were recipes and ideas picked up from his employees over the years. He thumbed through and found a section of candy ideas borrowed from Veronica herself. Nothing she could lay claim to, just good ideas mentioned in passing before she'd shut down on him.
He rose and walked into his closet to dress, wincing at the hot sting of the rash between his legs.
The phone rang as he dressed and listened as the machine kicked on and he heard yet another reporter asking about some kind of porn site that he'd made an appearance on.
Curious, he exited the bedroom and booted up the sleek laptop on his desk. He clicked into a search engine and entered the site to see what the hell the reporter had been talking about.
Victor's eyes bulged in horror and disbelief, oddly mirroring the expression on the screen. On the front page was a man wearing his face in nothing but leather chaps, taking it up the ass by a large lumberjack-looking man with ugly prison tattoos.
Victor's scream of rage echoed through the empty house.