>A dark and stormy night.
>Wind howls, rain pours, lightning cracks.
>A lone castle, sides slick with wet, grey, cracked stone sits atop a small mountain.
>A small, beaten path, paved with cobblestone bricks leads from a nearby town, the inhabitants of which have long been silent about the goings-on of our forsaken fortress.
>A mad Aryan man, whose hair has long since been pulled out over the painstaking pre-silicone computations of many a differential equation, those that might even make Twilight Sparkle groan in a sense of boredom and dread, half-cackles, half-giggles to himself as electricity slowly crawls between antennae until they dissapate, until a new band of pure expended energy forms to take the place of the last.
>Dials turn, switches are hastily flipped to the sound of his pacing and scheming, crazed confidence building as he watches meters flit back and forth faster than right arms extend in the presence of der Führer.
>An almost violent cackle erupts and then vanishes as quickly as it came. The doctor looks up, eyes following the rhythm of his various measuring instruments, bubbles finding their way up in variously colored solutions here and there, some quick, some slow.
>"Herr Möller," said the professor.
>"What is it sir," said a dull, but responsive voice, coming from a corner yet unseen.
>"It is time," said the doctor.
>"Yes, doctor," said Möller.
>Herr Möller ambled over to a large lever, a squat hunchback with one eye closed and crooked as the rest of his gait.
>"Yes, my newest protégé... pure as the whitest of Aryan students..." mumbled the doctor to himself. "She shall never lust or want, her interests strictly that of the dictates of der Führer and myself, not a colt in sight..." he went on, as though it were all coming to him for the first time.
>The movement of a large steel, poorly oiled joint groaned and snapped the doctor once again out of his machinations.
>He moved around a pale blue square, the pure center of an otherwise darkened, blackened room.
>"Yes... to harness the power of both magic and science, to fool the fabrics of friendship and technology to create something at their very dividing line..." said the doctor to himself, almost threateningly and with glee.
>"The antennae are up, sir," came the same dull voice from before.
>"Wunderbar!" Yelled the doctor, almost a screech. "Wunderbar..." he trailed off, as if to sense a change of some mystical power in the air.
>He took the last few steps around the almost cave-sized pool of water, now with a slight glow to it, to a hand-sewn plush resembling the most blonde and blue-eyed of our little ponies.
>"And the horn..." said the doctor to himself. "Herr Möller," he called now, again across the room, as they had become distant during their last few movements.
>"Yes, sir," said Möller, eager to please and not much more.
>"Have you sewn the horn with the utmost care?" Said the doctor, afraid to tug at it just yet.
>"Yes, sir," said Möller. "Triple-sewn," he confirmed.
>"Good! Good..." said the doctor. "That should surely keep it from falling off..." he said, making the last of adjustments to the plush as it sat affixed to a small contraption, also of Herr Möller's making.
>Time seemed to stand still. The doctor, though he had been acting erratically mere seconds earlier, affected a state of calm, waiting for the right moment. His hand fell to the lever that he himself had fine-tuned. He ducked, that he might not see his own reflection in the now glowing pool. The rain could be heard, blown by the howling wind outside.