Hollow Hope

"Ugh--" Sunny Skies groaned, picking himself up and dusting himself off. Torque's workshop looked different, tonight; the dimmed colors and even dimmer light were eating chunks of the room, leaving inky blackness in place of the shining metal and blacksmith's tools he knew.

"...Hello there!" he called out into the dark. No response.

Well, no pony response. He heard something grinding into motion--a rhythmic kerchunk and a hiss of steam, over and over. He couldn't quite see the pistons moving, but he knew what a steam engine sounds like, and this wasn't exactly it. "What have you been up to, Torque?"

He keeps his voice down, creeping further into the workshop, stepping gently around the bench in the center. At the far wall, he stops short, his eye catching on a single object, the only tool left on its rack: A hefty, cast-iron pipe wrench.

"...I'm no fighter," he mutters, "but I feel like I need this." He reached out, lifting the wrench with a simple levitation spell; it felt clumsy, but the weight would make up for that. His gut wrenched at the thought of having to deal with another dead griffon walking, but it was evident even to him that running forever wouldn't work.

Beside that, the doorway in the back of the room had been boarded up--though on closer inspection, the boards seemed rotted and weak. He hefted the wrench, and broke them down; if someone was still hidden behind them, they weren't safe anyway, and they would've responded to his voice. He briefly wonders if Torque is even here. He shudders at the thought of what may have happened to her.

As he stepped into the hall, he frowned softly, dragging the wrench through the air behind him. "How deep does this go? This place isn't that big. Is it?"

The doors on each side of the hallway were locked. Each and every one of them.

"Hello? Hellooo?" Sunny called out, but still there was no answer. "Oh, flapjacks. I'm never gonna find Petunia at this rate..."

But the next door he tried was unlocked. The handle wasn't stuck. In fact, it turned easily in his hoof.

"Oh, finally!" he said, stepping through--momentarily ignoring the sound of the pistons, as they grew louder.

On the other side, he found himself in a simple sitting room. There was a door on the left-hoof wall, and he could hear whirring machinery and hissing steam on the other side of it; and there were three portraits on the wall. In his excitement, Sunny ignored the portraits; instead, he beelined for the other door. Perhaps someone else was hiding in the machine room?

Inside the machine room, he found that the floorboards gave way to metal grating, and the wallpaper had been torn away, leaving only bare, tarnished copper. There was a railing at the far end, and beyond it, all Sunny could see was a single piston and some sort of crucible. The piston hissed, pounding into the crucible, squeezing white-hot metal out around itself. The room was hot, sweltering even, and he realized with a sad sigh that nopony was here. He turned to leave; the sight of the machine filled him with unease, anyway. He had no idea what it was creating, but he knew it would be done soon.

As he walked back out into the portrait room, he stopped for a moment to consider the portraits--first, a picture of somepony he doesn't know. "Wait--I recognize her," he said softly. "This is...my old secretary. She left around the time Gilda broke up with me. Yes, I remember her...but what was her name? Confound it, Sunny, your brain might as well be a pimento. Maybe I should've asked the doctors about my memory."

He sighed, stepping backward, and regarded the next portrait: his dear Petunia. "Oh, Petunia...every year of our marriage has been a blessing."

He catches himself short as he realizes the sound of pistons has changed, growing erratic and weak. "Is someone there?" he calls out, toward the machine room--but there's no response. He opens the door, lifting the wrench as he anticipates some clawed freak leaping out at him...

...and he sees the machine room again--but this time, there is no metal, and the piston moves like a dying animal, struggling to keep its rhythm. The crucible is cracked down the side. "What in Equestria...?" he mutters to himself, as he inspects the machine. "...well, this thing won't be creating anything anymore. I don't even know if anypony can fix this."

Left without answers, he shrugged, walked into the portrait room, and moved to the last portrait--and found a picture of Gilda staring back at him! "Huh? Oh, it's just...just Gilda. When did she have a portrait done?" Sunny murmured to himself. "She hasn't been out here for years. And why does she look so sad?"

Another clunk signified the sudden return of the piston's steady rhythm. He glanced back toward the machine room. "What now?" he said, as he pushed the door open again.

The piston was moving, but the crucible was gone entirely. "What the--somepony ought to turn that thing back off," Sunny muttered. "It's just wasting time, now. Nothing's gonna come of this."

His eye caught on a glint of metal, lying on the platform where the crucible once was.

"Is that...it can't be. That looks like the key to our bedroom. We lost it ages ago! What's it doing here?"

Without a second thought, Sunny rushed to the railing, leaning the wrench against a wall as he reached out with his magic to take the bedroom key. "Yes, this is exactly it. Pluck me and make a pillow, this is the key to the master suite..."

He nearly dropped the key as the door creaked open.