Shiva spoke through the comms (not the omnicomms) directly into the minds of the crew.

«I am Shiva. I am the destroyer of all that you know and the creator of a grand new empire. For months you thought of me as my host, Charles Kawalsky, but now you shall see me in all my glory. I have positioned bombs throughout this vessel, including the pod caverns. I need but press the trigger and they will explode. I also have one hostage of my own, Sheryl. You will not be able to stop me. I am fully equipped with a power dampener, and a forcefield. I am untouchable. You have one hour to surrender yourselves to me and begin your new lives as my slaves.»

His eyes flashed gold and he held his hostage firmly. He did not wish to wait, but if he tired of this he would amend his demands. For now he stayed in one of the areas in the City hidden from Stacy’s view, in the middle of a pile of rubble, with not a landmark in sight.

Still, he knew they would come.

Nura didn't really want to have an ocean in the sensoriums. Nor did she desire a little river. Something to swim in...but also to be able to relax -- as that was what the doctor had ordered her to do. Back home, there hadn't really been many large ocean to splash in, unless she counts the waters upon Naltor, but even those had been small in size. So she tries to summon to mind an image of the perfect get-away...and she remembers the brochures she'd looked at when she and Querl were planning their honeymoon.

She remembers a place she'd looked at for more than just a little while, and decides that it is the perfect place for her and Katara to relax.

A little while later, the sensorium all made up, Nura, now wearing a very 31st century shiny silver swimsuit, appraises her work. There's a medium-sized waterfall gushing in the distance, pouring down into the large pool of water, surrounded by rocks that could be used like stepping stones.

I'm waiting for you, Kenobi, Vader thought, broadcasting loudly enough through the Force that any nearby Jedi (or other sensitives) would cringe. The Sensoriums around him held a familiar image: the fiery surface of Mustafar. The hellish landscape occasionally flickered in and out, replaced with scenes from Vader's memory that bubbled too close to the surface.

The hour of your demise draws near.

There were 8 bombs spread around the ship. The teams were assigned. They had their orders, now they had to carry them out. And pray to whatever they held dear that they could disarm them in time.

Tick tock.

(Bendytimed after this, please IM request first for tags)

The Dean Winchester moving quickly to the hangar was a different from the sometimes sad, sometimes joking hunter most of the crew were used to. This Dean Winchester was 'Daddy's Little Blunt Instrument," Alastair's student, the Sword. Right now he had more in common with the cold broken soldier who would shoot down Croat-infected friends in a heartbeat, would torture for answers, and use allies as cannon fodder to reach his goal. Kyle had warned him about going down dark paths, not knowing how Dean had travelled along such roads for some time, and he already knew the result.

He was singularly focused with one purpose after his talk with Nightwing. Get his brother back. One way or another. Heaven and hell help those who stand in his way.

Dean, you know what to do to protect your precious Sammy. We can help him.

He scoffed at that and tried to ignore the words as he walked along.

Dean opened the secret compartment in the Impala's trunk, and started prepping his weapons. Security was buzzing with news on the comms which meant he had to stay alert for orders. Still. As long as those orders didn't get in the way of getting to Sam, he'll do what's needed. He slid the cartridge home in one handgun, and loaded shells into his shotgun. His hunting knife was already resting at his hip.