They're never happy and that's probably part of the problem. But Azwel breathes a sigh of relief when the door emits a harsh buzz and then a click.

"Turn right. Follow the lit corridors to the exit."

Outside the room the corridor is sterile, showing no sign of the firefight that'd occurred there. And, just as the voice had said, there's no-one about. No guards, no workers, no techs, no-one. Azwel steps out curiously, and is a little unnerved by the silence, broken only by the faint electronic hum of the lighting. Ten feet to the right is an intersection, and the shadowy right side of it is strangely foreboding.

"Let's go, now," he says, his voice wearier than anyone has ever heard it.