Moving down one office, Machete came to a door labeled E. Vance. He nodded his head at Digger and motioned to it with his thumb as he held the security badge in front. Digger moved to the door, planted his feet, raised his axe high and brought it down into the door, right by the lock. Machete reflexively flinched his hand back as the dwarf swung. The wood first cracked in with the axe's blow, then exploded outward as another shotgun blast tore the lock and knob right off. Digger dropped back and flexed his knees as he tried to dip below the shot, and he just made it, the slug tearing a rent through the cloth of his overshirt. The involuntary flinch noted, machete moved the security badge back in front of the door and tried to steady his breathing. These gas masks were getting to be sticky with the cold sweat of constant stress. The door was slowly creaking open, and no further shots had been fired.