WWCF Chapter 2

Willy Wright and the Chocolate Factory
PART DEUX:



Going to sleep that night had been a chore like none other Edgeworth had faced recently. His anxiety and nervousness about the events to come had forced him to resign on the prospects of going to sleep. Making his way into the living room, he took up a book to pass time until his inevitable departure.

He awoke in his living room at 7AM, book now laying on top of Pess, who was curled up at his feet. This was a late start for him, and if it had been any other day he'd have been late to work, but he didn't have work today. Not by his own decision, mind you, Edgeworth rarely ever missed a day of work, in fact it took rather severe circumstances for such an occurrence to transpire, but this time he'd had no choice. Chief Skye had given him no option.

How absurd it was, being forced by your boss to go on a child's field trip. Edgeworth was seething inwardly. Unfortunately, as much as he had wanted to sell the ticket, or even donate it to a charity, he had been strictly 'advised' to the contrary. These last few weeks before the event had left Edgeworth anxious and angry, to the point where he was almost removed from all active cases, Hell, he'd even asked to be removed. But Chief Skye would hear nothing of it.

"You will do your damned job when I tell you to, and you will take a vacation when I tell you to. You are my employee, and my right hand, and the right hand shall never go against the brain. You need this vacation as much as you need to put in your proper hours beforehand."

Three days. What child's tour lasted three days? Wasn't the old fairy tale method that a child stumbles upon a great new magical realm and has a day to explore, endure, and withstand tests with the final goal being to have learnt something when they make it out at the end? How was this charade even fiscally possible for a chocolate factory of mediocre acclaim? The company, as it was now, had hardly been around for long. Edgeworth had researched into the matter, after all.

In the span of three years the company, amazingly with just one factory, had marked a startling rise to the number-one chocolate-producing company sates-side. It had left Edgeworth wondering when it's cataclysmic fall from power was to happen. He felt that anything that rises that quickly with absolutely no known origin is bound to fail. Where were their stocks, their market shares, their advertising agents and business transactions? Who was the CEO and who reported their financial statements, everything was blank. There was no history other than shipping of chocolate and the receiving of raw food materials. Not even equipment had ever been shipped in and out, or mechanical and building repairs reported. He suspected something to do with criminal activity, but had no means of inquiry to pursue, since his preliminary reports showed nothing of the sort. Though, the misty and shrouded history of the factory in question left room for plenty of interpretation on Edgeworth's part.

With so little literature, he was nearly impossible to learn anything about the factory or the company in question. What he was able to piece together was that the company had risen from the ashes of another company called Finding Everlasting Youth Candies, or FEY Candies, for short. The original brand had been around for several years before the proprietor had somehow vanished. When she had first vanished there had been rumors of murder, but most speculations were inconclusive and no trial was ever reported. Some rumors, mostly found in tabloid papers he was able to find on the internet, had  listed potential suspects, or probable cause of two or three people. The first, and most common belief was that another family member, who was hungry for fame and money and wished to inherit the company through various legal loopholes, had snuffed out the late Ms. Fey. The second most common rumor was that of a man later convicted of blackmail who had ties to Ms. Fey. Surprisingly, some others even went to accuse the current owner, Mr. Wright, who other than his current ownership of the factory and company estates, is completely unknown. Some articles even included claims that "Willy" is not his legal first name, though why that should even matter was a perplexity to Edgeworth.

The entire matter both confounded, yet interested Edgeworth. He'd have loved to just talk to the owner, or conduct an investigation of the grounds and records, not for any legal reasons, just for the sake of his own curiosity... Granted he was sure he would find something that he could later get a warrant for, but regardless...

Unfortunately the mess he'd found himself in was anything but ideal. He was to be at the gates at noon, and it was a three hour drive. With a final sigh he got out of his armchair, readied for the day and made sure all his affects were packed and in his car, then took Pess for a walk. When he arrived back at his apartment the boy who was to watch Pess for the week was waiting. Normally Edgeworth wouldn't trust anyone with his belongings, much less his family (which he considered Pess to be a part of) but Franziska had met the boy at university and he had seemed to be pleasant enough that when he moved State-side, and later to LA, Edgeworth had made a principle of getting to know the boy. This, now, would be his third time watching Pess to date. The practice in German conversation was always a refreshment for Edgeworth, too. 'One must keep the mind fit, for everything else to follow suit' he would tell himself.

Unfortunately this time the conversation was short and was to result in a 'vacation' that was creating a feeling of impending doom. A vacation, mind you, that he had no interest in attending. He cursed to himself that he liked his job as much as he did (or the regularity in his life that it created). If he had less fear of change or more confidence in finding new work... he would have taken up Chief Skye's threat to fire him if he didn't attend this debacle....

Unfortunately....


He arrived at the location only 15 minutes prior to the designated time, traffic having been more than he had anticipated. When he arrived, reporters were lined up everywhere to catch a glimpse of the 'Illustrious Mr. Wright' and the 'Enigmatic Final Winner' – the later of which was himself. The second he parked his car in the designated spot, the mass swiftly migrated to it.

"SO SIR! Are YOU the FINAL CONTEST WINNER?"

"...." Edgeworth tried his hardest to glare at the reporter, but the sheer volume of her voice and the proximity of the camera to his face had him nearly leaning against his car to avoid being decked by her excessively long lens. He managed to muster a feeble "If you would mind stepping away from my car it would be most appreciative."

"SIR, Can you ANSWER MY QUESTION!"

"MIND the car. It is an IMPORT and I'd prefer it not being scratched! It cost me nearly a million to get it to NY, and then another 4,000 to have it shipped to this coast. Thank you, and excuse me," Edgeworth said, with more control than he expected, and went to turn before stopping to add, "and it has a video surveillance system programmed into it's features. Anything that touches it when it is locked is captured in a series of snapshots. I am a prosecuting attorney and will sue for damages."

With that the woman, and all other reporters, frantically scrambled away from Edgeworth and his car. His minor fib about the surveillance system was greatly overpowered by his sense of pleasure for instantaneously getting all his anger off his chest in one go. With a final tidying up of his suit-jacket and grabbing his luggage bag, Edgeworth headed to the gate.

"So you're the final contestant, huh? You look older than THAT guy! I bet you cant even get around street-side old man, wooo-kayyy," said a jumpy young punk as he pointed to a rather obese man in his mid-thirties.

The man, who mind you was thereby at least 10 years older than Edgeworth, was taking snapshots and writing in a book mumbling something about a show, or a plot. He was very animated in his work until he saw a young girl and went rather disturbingly googly-eyed.

The young girl in question was near the gate crying and hysterically demanding to know why 'Regent' could not come with her into the factory. The officer seemed to be rather nervous about something and was sweating bullets while trying to calm the young girl down.

After this 30 second analysis, Edgeworth concluded that he was probably the only sane person in this little group, and resigned a sigh. This was going to try his patience, wasn't it?