As soon as you're out, you fling objects outwards. The area around the partition has been cleared out for safety, thanks to the displacement effect of emerging objects. However, every other bit of free space has been filled by the rookies. They've occupied the whole hallway and formed three firing lines. The first ones are prone, the second row is kneeling, and the last members are outright, all pointing their guns at you.

Your ladder clocks a Commandramon in the helmet, interrupting his business with a mail pipe that's feeding into the door. As he recoils, the others open fire, attempting to shred you apart. They aren't interested in negotiating or calling for a surrender, now that you've started flinging objects around.

Power flows through Phascomon, and you feel him growing again. Your shrapnel doesn't hurt anybody, but it draws a little bit of fire. Just enough to stop you from being filled with holes. But right when Phascomon is at the cusp of transformation, searing pain disrupts your focus, and you collapse into a writhing pile.

Rather than interrupt the process, the sudden urgency jump-starts it. Porcupamon charges towards the firing line, yelling in rage, even as you scream in pain on the ground. A bullet has struck you. The distraction was enough to save your life, but with this many guns on you, it would be near impossible to escape unscathed. Valves, grates, pipes, and wheels all clatter around wildly in the wake of your sewer-bomb, adding to the cacophony.

Ten seconds later, Elecmon and Gazimon join the fray. They attack from underneath Porcupamon's arms, sending out bolts of lightning and clouds of gas. Stragglers are eliminated by them, and the hall is filled with the sound of constant deletions.

A short while after, you feel two pairs of arms pull you upright.

"You're okay, you're okay! Oh, what do we do!"

"Can we stem it?!"

Hands touch your side. You scream again. The bullet, like most Digimon attacks, has been able to shatter the pain threshold. You feel as though your vision is turning red. Still, you know it's not as bad as last time. You look down again, seeing the hole in your side where letters are leaking out and breaking off into pixelated chains. Liza's hands are trying to grasp it, but they move insubstantially through her fingers.

"Get- Get one of your Digimon." You say between clenched teeth.

With a sharp whistle, Liza calls Elecmon back. Porcupamon and Gazimon have it fully handled, and are driving the Commandramon all the way back. Once they reach the corner, the surviving members of the firing line break away, fleeing deeper into the facility.