Room 220, Tuesday Evening

Inside room 220, it looked like a tornado had hit--so pretty much like it always did, only moreso, because this was a packing whirlwind, and the packing was nowhere near finished. Thanksgiving at home and all that.

However, Zero had shoved most of the mess onto the room's two beds and sat in the middle of the floor with her supplies: a SHIELD t-shirt, a pair of scissors, a lighter, a bottle of medicinal alcohol, a metal trashcan, and a make-your-own voodoo doll kit.

Let the mutilation begin.

((For peter__parker))