SHAWSHANK
Shigaraki hunched over in the dark, shivering as his thin prison rags absorbed the chilly water dripping from the stalactites of the cave he had carved out. He waited, pointy rock poised over a massive rusty pipe.
A gentle rumble shook the pebbles on the floor. The air trembled with a faint rattle echoing through the stone. Shigaraki tensed. A loud horn pierced the morning silence. Shigaraki swung, slamming the stone into metal, and the horn drowned out the clang.
The rust crumpled into powder and shards. Panting from exertion and excitement, Shigaraki carefully snapped off pieces around the edge. With the hole widened enough, Shigaraki wriggled inside. He started forward, only to catch the faintest hint of red light shimmering on the fetid water at his feet.
Shigaraki scooped up rust powder and blew it in front of him. Laser light criss-crossed the pipe. His nose was an inch from triggering an alarm. Probing around with his tongue, Shigaraki loosened the marble wedged into his molar. He crunched into it with his canines and spat out a tiny mirror and some putty. Setting the mirror over the laser sights, Shigaraki crept his way forward, shuffling the mirrors forward each time he cleared another set of lasers.
The pipe bent downwards. Saw blades, spattered with dried blood and shredded clothes, gyrated in and out. Muttering under his breath, Shigaraki cracked another marble. He stuck a cable to the ceiling and slowly lowered himself down. He swung side to side, navigating himself and the cable around the blades.
Halfway down, a sawblade snuck out and severed the cable. Shigaraki twisted himself midair, noticed the pressure plate at the bottom, and stopped himself by laying his palms flat on the sawblades. He gritted his teeth as the saws came perilously close to slicing his fingertips.
Spotting a vent across from him, Shigaraki spat a marble at it. When it cracked, an explosion blasted the vent off its screws. Shigaraki leapt for it as sawblades descended towards the opening. His shirt got sliced off, and half his hair got cut at his scalp, but he made it through without a scratch.
Shigaraki took a deep breath, about to sigh in relief, then froze. A goose, noticing his arrival, stuck its neck up and glared at him. Shigaraki frantically shook his head, pleading silently. The goose puffed out its chest, swayed its neck, and readied its battle cry.
Shigaraki snapped his last marble. He threw a hawk at the goose, and the waterfowl disappeared in a puff of feathers.
Scrambling the last few feet out of the pipe, Shigaraki emerged onto a grassy field, pounded relentlessly by the rain. Feeling droplets and freedom on his face, Shigaraki fell to his knees and raised his hands to the sky. For one glorious moment, he reveled in the simple joy of fresh air and lush grass.
Then the rain turned off, floodlights engulfed the area, and a guard shouted out, "Break's over, back to your cell."
500
In which the guards give their prisoners a Shawshank, as a treat.
All for One: you rappelled down the sawblades? Amateur. The optimal route is to pry open the siding and pull out the wires powering them, then strangle the goose with the wires.