I do not own anything apart from this meagerly formed idea and a hastily made up character. I couldn't think of a decent name for her so I used the name of the main female character of Mass Effect.

Jane Shepard nursed a cranberry vodka whilst gawping at a nearby neon sign. It was pretty enough that she did not even question why she hadn't blinked for the past minute. Breaking away from that line of sight, like a moth away from a flame, she took another swig of the luminescent liquid.

It was a Tuesday, and that meant two for one cocktails at her local bar. Christmas had left a dent in her bank account, and Jane was being careful not to overspend. Sending away presents to relatives who lived halfway across England was expensive, but she had chosen to ostracize herself for the sake of her career.

"How's business, Shepard?" The barkeep asked her cordially whilst scrubbing down the counter.

She looked up through her daze and gave a lopsided smile. "It's the after Christmas slump, I'm afraid. Every business must be feeling it; seems worse this year though."

Dave, the bartender, nodded solemnly. "I feel ya'. It's a tourist thing, I think. Not that many people interested in Wonka's chocolate factory at the minute, it seems."

"Ridiculous," Jane swung back on her chair, effectively sloshing her drink. "You'd think after the whole golden ticket...," she waved her hands, looking for the word, "fiasco! That there'd be a steady stream of visitors to keep us in the money."

Dave lent on the worn counter, using elbows as support.

"You not been reading the papers?"

"Bah, full of bad news," she replied, as if the thought was distasteful.

"Man, you been missing it. Well that kid that won? Everyone was trying to get interviews with him, weren't they? Anyway, kid kept refusing. Got all these reporters from around the world following him to school everyday. Eventually he gets some legal aid, this injunction from the courts that stops media harassing him. That was a few month ago, so now we've got a dry spell ahead of us as far as customers are concerned."

Jane squinted. "He should have been more of a cock tease with the papers, at least then I wouldn't be eating noodles for breakfast, lunch and dinner," she scoffed. Dave belly laughed before going to see to another customer that had desperately been trying to catch his attention.

The woman stumbled onto the street, happily letting the cold February air find her flushed skin. Temperatures didn't seem the matter when you were inebriated. Nor did anything else, really.

Her stagger home strangely enough took her past the famous chocolate factory. Steely grey eyes regarded the dull brickwork with envy. It all seemed so effortless. Chocolate went out and the money rolled in for Mr Wonka.
She had thought she had made a smart move by opening her bakery shop close to the factory. Local business gained profit just from location. Yet the Golden Ticket buzz came and went, and Jane had probably only made couple of hundred pounds extra from that. Her entrepreneurial spirit had only managed to allow her independent living, rather than a life of luxury she craved to earn.

She went to lean on a bin as she contemplated, her fingers curling around the grubby edge. The tip of her fingers touched a wet substance and she immediately whipped her hand back, fearing a slug or something along those lines. On unbalanced feet, she leaned forward to peak into a pile of rubbish.

Instead of garden creatures, there was instead a spray paint can, oozing slightly. Looking back to the wall, she saw a half finished bit of graffiti.

The 'y' of 'Willy' had not been put on, and Jane wondered if the perpetrator had seen someone before tossing the can into the bin.

Red paint had stained the tip of her fingers. Eying her digits, a devilish smile crept to her face.

Retrieving the can from the bin, she toddled over to the wall and finished what had been started by adding the 'y'. Going further, she added the name 'Wonka' - instead changing the 'o' to an 'a'. Giggling at her handiwork like a schoolgirl doodling in the margins, she turned to deposit the spray paint back in the bin.

Instead she was confronted by a tall man in a top hat who was surrounded by children.

"Well then, looks like we've found the cad," the man said, as if offended at the sight of her. His head was turned away and a grimace on his face; whether he was still looking down at her, Jane could not tell because of the absurd goggles he wore.

"Cad?" She raised an eyebrow dangerously. She looked down at the children, only to see wizened faces looking back at her. Little people? Eyebrow now rocketing, she looked back to the man, and realised something else - his image was strangely familiar to one she had glanced at a year ago when the factory was opened up to those five kids.

"Jesus Christ, what are you doing here?" She spewed out before thinking, then righted herself. He should be sweating up there in the factory with all the money he makes, not swanning about late at night with peculiar bodyguards. "Shouldn't you be hiding away somewhere?"

"I should. But you seem to be using my factory wall as a canvas, and I'm afraid that just wont do," he answered with weak but terse smile.

Jane swiveled left and right, pointing to all the other tags that had adorned his walls (some for years on end).

"The others seem to have gotten away with it," she proclaimed arrogantly. What a turd, she thought. Just because the great chocolatier decided to mosey about the streets did not give him the right to say what he wanted!

"The others did so in the daytime, when it was utterly impossible for me to apprehend them," he explained stiffly, trying to justify himself. He seemed of paying an awful lot of attention to a nearby CCTV camera.

"Ha! So I'm the one that gets in shit because you're too scared to come out in the day?" She laughed unbelievingly, only to have him frown at her. At least, she thought it was a frown.

"Actions have consequences-"

"Apparently only at night," she answered sarcastically, noticing how she was starting to feel sober again; and angry.

"-and as such it is my civic duty to place you under citizen's arrest."

A horde of little people jumped onto her, one holding a odd smelling cloth to her face. Before she passed out, she made sure the two punches she threw counted, and knocked out two Oompa Loompas.