No Heart is in his castle, a thunderstorm brewing as he monologues about the Care Bears in his throneroom. Grumbling over their love, their sickeningly warm KINDNESS.

"Those wretched bears... always interfering where they don’t belong. It’s high time someone put an end to their insipid optimism. Soon, I will wipe them off the map."

He tends to a cauldron by his hip, stirring a heated brew while he waits for it to be ready. Sometimes he throws an item in, whatever is required for the potency of the potion.