Cordelia had seen quite a bit in her eighteen years of life. Junkies, narcs, gangbangers, cold-blooded killers, all sorts of things most people would prefer to turn away from.

Light, however, was not within Cordelia's realm of experience.

"What the actual fuck?" Cordelia said, surprise flashing across her face. Jesus. This thing didn't even look human. It took Cordelia's snark a moment or two to recover, after which she realized there were probably a fair amount of superhumans traipsing about that were more "super" than "human". "Uh, yeah, I have a vendetta against anyone who pulls out a detonator around me, Frankenstein. So unless you're going to help me avoid turning this place into ground zero, kindly fuck off." 

Then some smartass threw a bear at her. She didn't see where it came from, but the gesture (while admittedly funny to Cordelia) was slightly annoying. Just to prove her point, she returned her focus to Agnes and ripped the bear's head off before throwing the torn pieces to the floor. Some guy with a piece on his belt and a rifle in a case came walking up to them-ah, he had that dog with him. [i]You keep Lassie on a tight leash or you better have brought a shovel along with all those guns, Clint.[/i] Hot Rod had, mercifully, finally taken the hint no one (his blood relatives and God included) wanted him around, and seemed to be trying to leave-hopefully he'd the dog, the pacifistic Frankenstein chick, and whoever was throwing teddy bears around, with them. Thus far, the only person (well, only living thing-she didn't know if Light was even human) in this room she didn't immediately want to strangle was Volt, who was quickly garnering respect in her eyes, merely by virtue of NOT being like these other people. Seriously-and, she didn't have much room to talk, given her record-but did the League not even fuckin' try to screen this people? This bitch just walked in with a detonator. Cordelia didn't think, post-9/11, you could get away with that kind of shit. And unless she'd just started making bomb threats, that's the sort of thing you identify in a person pretty easily. Cordelia added "whoever was in charge of screening new people" to her list of League members to harass. 

Ah, good, Volt had found his balls. He chewed Agnes out, and Cordelia figured the reaming from a legit member of the group would probably do more than her trash talk had. Fine with her, as long as Agnes moved the hell out of the way. ([i]Wonder what superhero name is...shoulda gone with Bombshell. [/i]) Agnes was clearly out of touch with reality-there's a world of difference between carrying heat on you and actually threatening it. What she was doing was in no way different from pointing a gun right at someone, but this cretin didn't even seem to get that. Cordelia privately felt that Agnes' life expectancy was going to run out here soon-sooner or later, she was going to encounter someone that just pulled out a gun and wasted the bitch when she tried something like that. You make threats like that, you better damned well be able to back it up.

Cord watched her carefully-and Agnes made the very, very foolish mistake of turning her eyes away from her. She could understand why-Volt was the more apparent threat, as a high-ranking member of the League, with a solid rep and more directly applicable powers. That suited Cordelia just fine-she had zero problems with stabbing someone in the back while they were looking the other way. Her voice began to rise in intensity and she rose the detonator up in the air.

Cordelia's hand darted into her jacket, closing around her switchblade. 

[i]Are you ready?[/i]

[i]Whatever she does will not harm you.[/i]

Agnes raised the detonator, clicked it, and...nothing happened. She was expecting a wall of darkness to engulf her, shielding her from the force of the blast, any falling debris, but it was all some fucked up joke. Cordelia kept her hand on the knife, just to be sure-she was staring intently at Agnes, who had made the mistake of turning away from Cordelia. It was understandable-Volt was a high-ranking, damned good member of the League, and she was a street rat they'd just picked up. Absolutely fine with her-Cordelia had no problems fighting dirty, and she'd cut out this bitch's throat before she turned around if she tried something for real.

Then, the detonator went off. There was an explosion from behind Cordelia, who instinctively tucked her head down. Her reaction, however, was likely not as impressive as her shadow's. Splitting into two directions at once, her shade behind the chair cupped itself around the explosives with blinding speed, nearly an instant after they'd gone off. Then, it went for Agnes. Flat on the ground, her shadow whipped around and grabbed Agnes' shadow's throat with its hands, choking her out. It wouldn't suffocate her, not truly-but she'd feel it. The pain of her throat being crushed, voicebox and larynx splitting, the throbbing like her skull was about to shatter. 

"Enough," Cordelia hissed, just under her breath. The suits had come in. She didn't recognize their faces, but she recognized the way they moved. They moved around the same way authority figures did-the same way the dusty old bitch that had run the orphanage moved, the same way the cops moved. Cordelia's shadow gave Agnes' shadow one last, good throttle before slinking back into the chair. "Pranks like that are unappreciated?" Cordelia laughed, her quoting of Emily entirely scathing. "Bitch, are you serious? She just threatened to blow us halfway to hell. You're damned lucky she's not dead." Cordelia stood up, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. "You want us to settle this like reasonable adults? Yeah, I'm going to show the reason you dumbfucks clearly don't have and walk right out the front door. You people seriously operate this way? Holy hell. If she'd done that in a police station, army base, you'd be wiping off bits of her skull from the back wall over there. This how you people do things on a regular basis? I shit you not, I have seen gangbangers with more professionalism than you have. The hell does she have to do to get in serious trouble? Because if you're going to pussy out of delivering any punishments, I'll rob this place blind before I go." she cast a glance back at Volt, raising an eyebrow. Her expression said about all she'd need to say: [i]You're seriously okay with this shit? This is how your people do things?[/i] she turned to leave, giving Emily a cold, hard glare that had absolutely no trace of fear. Behind her, Cordelia's shadow seemed larger than the thin girl's silhouette should've been, rolling its neck from one side to another. "Move." 

Her first impressions of the League had been entirely accurate. Delusional, stuck-up, self-centered. They had all this money to burn on fancy food and a gym unlike any she'd ever seen (not that Cordelia had really seen any) but they handled threats like this? No security teams or anything? What, like a bomb threat was just some whiny child throwing a tantrum? Fuck that. Cordelia wasn't staying if these were the sorts of people she was going to have to be working with. Volt was the only one with an iota of sense. Maybe the guy with the dog had a little, because he was at least staying quiet-however, he had a dog, so she couldn't in good faith say he had sense. There was the ugly-ass chick reprimanding her for getting pissy at a lady with a detonator, the superfast asshole who probably got off to pictures of himself on the six o' clock news, and now this chick talking down to them. There was only one problem here, and that was Agnes. She'd pulled out a detonator, set off some explosives, and this bitch Emily was acting like everyone else was at fault, too. No. She'd put up with shit like this before and she wasn't doing it again. If Cordelia was going to do a job with other people, it wasn't going to be with people that fucked around like this. What Agnes had pulled would've gotten her killed if she'd been working with the cops, hell, even operating in a gang. The paycheck from this place was nowhere near good enough to merit hanging around people like that-and if the League employed legitimate psychos, there was no damned way they were managing to do any good in this world.