Quoted By:
>Attempt to plant the bomb. If you can avoid him for just long enough, you may have time to set up the detonation sequence. Fleeing will be a different story, but you'll be banking on the hope that an armed bomb will keep him occupied. The hard part of this route is avoiding attacks, because whipping that bomb out will anger him for sure.
You don't want to back down, nor can you charge forward. The only route you have ahead of you is continuing your mission. You close your eyes for a brief moment and compose yourself. When they reopen, you feel your heart harden with determination. You turn tail and run—not to escape, but to dive behind a console and get started on planting.
Strikedramon follows at a leisurely pace, like he's resigned himself to fighting. There's no animalistic savagery here, like the other Digimon you've fought. This one is composed and professional. That trait is slowing him down, even as he gathers up his own resolve to kill you.
<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-b">"So be it. You are-"</span></span>
His speech is interrupted by the piercing screech of the security system. The moment you take the bomb out of the partition, the walls and floor around you change color. They go from a soothing white and blue to vivid red and menacing black, with inverted colors along the outlines. Warning alarms go off, and you see numerous holographic projections pop into existence, all forming symbols and arrows that point right at you.
You've been flagged. Cyberspace itself shifts, turning hostile and attempting to call attention to your crime.
The dragon responds instantly. You're forced to roll again as his foot comes down on the console, splitting it with a deadly axe kick. It cuts right through the metal, and would have struck you on the head if you failed to react.
<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-r">"How dare you? I hoped to see past your intentions. But you bring evil with you after all."</span></span>
He charges again, and with no shelter, you're forced to leap into the pit. The zipbomb is held tightly in your arms. It's a heavy burden to carry, and you barely manage to free up one hand to activate f1oat. Your momentum carries your face into the central cylinder, dazing you mid-descent. Strikedramon stands ominously at the edge, his metallic plates glowing red-hot as he charts out a path.
