We will all go together when we go [Closed to bomb teams]

[kawalskyeffect.livejournal.com]

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.

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[thatsortofaman.livejournal.com]

The Doctor quickly stumbles several steps backward as the thing slithers down the tree at him - it doesn't take a Time Lord's brain to work out that something that looks like that, smells like that is probably not something he wants to get terribly close to.

"What." It's more a statement than a question. He had absolutely been prepared for any sort of mechanical or electronic bomb, and he could have sorted out almost any chemical bombs too, but it being alive... well, that rather complicates things, and why are things in his life never simple?

...besides the fact that he likes things complicated and exciting. He's not loving it quite so much now.

His screwdriver's still in his hand, and now he points it at the dog-creature - as if he needed to. "Yep, it's the bomb. What kind of a person...? I mean, holding hostages and threatening to blow up a living ship full of people is one thing, but making bombs out of dogs..." And despite his certainty that he probably shouldn't get close to it, he edges forward a little to lean in and peer at it. "Someone's got a sick sense of humour, is all I'm saying."

He's turning the problem over and over in his mind, even as he chatters away. Living bomb. Nothing he can't handle. ...right.

[mynameis-jake.livejournal.com]

Beastboy looks towards the tall guy, and for a moment Jake does as well, hopeful that they've got it under control, yeah, that the pen thing there is some kind of dog disarming device. Or maybe a magic wand. But Jake's falcon eyes are too good to pretend not to see the uncertain cast of both their faces, and without thinking he's already plunging through the thickest of the underbrush, talons softening to feet, toes, even before they've barely scraped the ground.

He doesn't know what morph he could possibly use here, only that he needs to try something. The movies have led him to expect some sort of countdown, so his mind supplies an imaginary one, ever helpful, a slow inexorable tick that punctuates the squelch and crunch of his organs shifting, his bones filling in, his beak melting into lips and feathers running together up along his arms.

The bomb isn't just sitting still to be gawked at, though; it snaps up at the man investigating it, growls viciously and lunges and circles back around, belly low to the ground and back always turned protectively to the tree that apparently it calls home. And Jake thinks he might know how to help. He can't disarm a normal bomb, much less one that completely lacks a red wire to cut (or never ever cut, depending on the movie), but maybe if he can put the dog into an acquiring trance - and that's a pretty big if - that'll slow down whatever mysterious chemical reactions are gurgling through its stomach, or if nothing else someone else will know what to do if the thing just held still long enough for inspection. Or maybe it'll just blow up under Jake's hands.

"Hey," his voice is a little strangled as he climbs out of the bushes like a madman, leaves or maybe feathers still clinging to his hair. "Sorry, abrupt, but uh - do you guys know what you're doing? What if I could help you get a better look?"

[changelingdude.livejournal.com]

"Pft, do we know what we're doing?" Beastboy laughed waving a hand dismissively before letting his shoulders droop, "Nope, not a clue. This guy might." He jerked a thumb at the doctor, "But I'm just good looks and charm. Neither of which are particularly helpful right now." He knelt down and whistled to the cranky bomb dog, "Here boy, it's OK, not gonna hurt you..." He used a soothing tone and wished he had a snack or something to offer the creature. Instead he just offered his open hands to appear non-threatening.