"Ecto, Ahab, Matchstick. Clear and defend door seven. Use specials only. Kill as few as possible." M.C. looked down the corridor cleaning his sweaty palms on his jeans. He snuck slowly onward approaching the solitary guard's position. He swiftly covered the man's mouth and nose and wrapped him up in a tight chokehold. The man struggled for breath, muffled squeals and yelps bleeding through the fingers of M.C.'s black glove. The man went limp and M.C. laid him gently on the floor. He continued down the hall, choking out guards to avoid detection, until he came to a small set of doors. They had a keypad and a rusted padlock on an old chain around the bars. M.C. stepped towards the door and put a high-strength EMP emitter on the door, frying the keypad, and broke the lock with a quick swing of his fist. He put his ear against the door and heard men talking loudly and ladies laughing at the horrible jokes. He opened the doors just enough to roll a gas grenade into the room beyond. He waited for the noise to stop and pulled his gas mask on before venturing into the next room. He wandered around searching everyone in the room as they laid, heads slumped, on every surface in the room, until he finally found what he had been looking for; on the top of the pot alongside a badge, resignation papers, and a marriage license, was a ring of keys. M.C. looked around the room for all potential exits. He saw a large set of metal double doors, lined with locks, and on the wall next to it another smaller, more broken, door with no lock. M.C. walked to the unlocked door and opened it. He walked over and made it seem on the other side that someone was trying to get in. Then he rammed into the door with his shoulder and sprinted over to the other exit. He threw a gas grenade over his shoulder as he ran through the door, closing it behind him with a soft thud.