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Caged Up - Armed Rebellion

They're armed, they're trigger happy, they're nothing. I've always held back, I've always felt there wasn't a need for me to kill during my crimes. I've come close before but only when I was desperate. Now isn't about desperation, it's about taking them out. I let loose my powers like a raging volcano, jets of green fire fly from my hands. Fire, not concussion blasts, but intense, burning fire. The air ripples from the heat, they're screams are short lived as they strangle on the soot and smoke from their burning kevlar vests. They were prepared for a mob, they weren't prepared for me. Bullets whiz past me, they're too scared to aim. Some have their rifles melt in their hands. Others panic as they watch their comrades, their friends, burn to death. I lose myself for a moment. My hands shoot out fire like flamethrowers but theirs something different, something eloquent, something spiritual about it. I see my soul in the fire; passionate, savage, untamed, bloodthirsty, and terrifyingly beautiful. I see the new me dance in each flame, they embrace these pigs in their final moments, and feast on their lifeless husks.

Twenty already and I'm close to the armory, all the girls have to do is follow the path of death and destruction. I make my way down the last length and I see one final guard. He's shaking, knobby knees, pistol jingling in his hands. He's overcome with fear, he's paralyzed with it the moment he sees me. But why stay and fight if he's so afraid? Why not hide in the armory or try to make a break for it. Ah, it comes to me, he's one of the good ones, one of the few in here that actually gives a shit about his responsibility, about his duty to the prison. He's not a rapist or an abuser, he's a loyal, honest man. And what has his loyal behavior and outstanding dedication given him? A date with the deadliest woman he's ever met. I play with him, I blast the gun out of his hands then I vaporize his belt buckle. He tries to back away but he trips. I'm on top of him, I lean down, he's crying and whimpering some kind of prayer. But I wonder who he's praying to when a God is two inches in front of him. "Do you fear me?"

He shakes and shivers. I grab his face and force him to look me in the eye. He looks at me like I'm the reaper, like I'm Satan come for his soul. I've never felt anything like this before, it's like sex, I'm getting off on this. "I said, do you... fear me?" I ask again, taking a deep breath between words. I really am getting aroused by the dread I thrust upon him.

His breath is shallow, he's barely coherent but he finally says what I want to hear. "Y...Yes... I... I do..."

That was... extremely satisfying. "Good." I kiss him on the forehead, don't know why, but it felt right. When I release him, he curls into a fetal position and turns to the wall. "I'll return for you later so don't try anything." I enter the armory but nothing in there excites me. Automatic rifles, shotguns, armor, shields, helmets, even an anti-aircraft RPG launcher. Compared to my powers, they all might as well be toys. But something does catch my eye. In the corner is a fenced off room with a sign that reads "Dangerous Personal Effects". I get hopeful and break in there. There's boxes piled up everywhere, each with a name labeled on them. I find mine, I open the box, and I find my suit. "Oh Santa, I always knew you had a hard on for very naughty girls."

First thing first, I start to rip off my orange rags. I give it some thought and decide to wear the old suit au naturel so I ditch the prison-grade undies. I slip on the suit and it's like coming home. The feel of sleek rubbery spandex hugging my skin is like being held by my lover. In it, nothing can hurt me, I feel safe in it. I pull on the gloves about the time I start hearing inmates pour into the room. The gloves become my new hands, my nails aren't chipped and cracked, they're sharp, sharp enough to tear through steel without the heat. I'm me again, I'm Shego again, a new Shego, a better Shego, a Shego that won't pussyfoot around anymore. I step out and my favorite blonde psychopath is looking me over with hungry eyes. "Damn Shego, looking good girl."

I smile and make fire dance around my fingertips. "Feeling good, Lynn."

She grabs a shotgun and flings it over her shoulder. "So what's the plan, boss?"

"You all hit the other cellblocks and free every last prisoner you can find. Kill anyone in your way but try to take some hostages for later."

"Hostages? You mean like that sniveling guard outside the door?"

Good, he's still out there. I can't help but smile. "Yes, thank you for reminding me. Be a dear and lock him up for me."

"What did you do to him anyway?"

A walk up to her and flash a playful grin. "I gave him a kiss."

I was expecting her to get angry but she just smirks. "Well now I want that kiss even more."

Lynn, you fucking dyke. I burned over a dozen men to death without a scratch on me and she still wants to play with fire. "First things first, hon. I need all the cellblocks liberated and I want hostages. Make sure you keep the medical staff alive too, we might still need them."

"And where are you going."

Glad she asked. "I'm going to pay a visit to the warden."

I step out and I see nothing but women with orange shirts and loaded weapons. Women who are here for murder, women who are here for theft, women who are here for narcotics. These are the worst women in the world; bloodthirsty, immoral, the filth that society can no longer tolerate. They're my people. They look at me like they're waiting for my command. I don't know when it happened, but I've somehow became the official leader of this rebellion. I hate responsibility but I love power. "What do we do now?" one of them asks with an M-16 slung over her neck.

Responsibility, I fucking hate it. Just don't cry to me if any of you die. "Simple; we raid the other cellblocks and release the other prisoners. Kill anyone in your way, try to grab hostages for later, preferably medical staff people. If we do this right, hell, even if we don't, we're better off now then we were before."

They cheer. I don't know what I'm doing, I don't know what this will accomplish or if any of us will be able to get out of here alive after we take over. But what I do know is, if we do take control, we'll be paying these assholes back for taking away our dignity. If we don't, then at least we killed as many as we could and died on our feet instead of living on our knees. And if the media ever does catch on to any of this, win or lose, we'll all be legendary. We'll be the new Attica. Anytime a woman's group wants to bitch about abuse or oppression, we'll be their example. Books will be written, documentaries filmed with survivors. I'm leading us all to history and I have no fucking idea what I'm doing. Oh well, fuck the big picture, one step at a time. I got a date with the Warden to keep.