I mean... That's kinda what I was going for, so thanks

Cold metal cuffs gripped his wrists and ankles tightly, while stuff and frigid chains held his arms to his torso, with dampening coils clenching his neck and shoulders. It was a binding that no one, not even Houdini's permeation could ever hope to escape without being let out by another, but to him? A rudimentary setup, a bad sense of fashion, a poor quality shirt. If he chose, he could escape with no effort and kill everyone involved, but he doesn't want to. He wants peace.

"Hey, you still breathing?" The soldier spoke all too casually to the man who did not want to be bothered, frightening those around him.

"Don't talk to him. At all. He doesn't like it and he's killed for much less than that." The doctor, the only one trusted by the man, knew that if he could not keep this beast of a man under control then it would be the end of them all.

"What?" The soldier responded "Listen, those bindings each have their own dampening wires in the cuffs, as well as in each individual chain, and that collar? Things so powerful that it's even messing with us, he's not getting out." Just as the arrogant soldier finished his sentence, the monster began to stand, an action that left everyone stricken with terror.

As he sat back down, the doctor began to explain who this individual was.

"Just... Don't disturb him, please. It took us a very long time to get him to trust me at all, the last thing we need is to rile him up. He just sort of... Showed up one day, at first no one cared because he would stop aliens, monsters, robots, anything that would normally require our heroes to do. Then, he started to simply attack random buildings and causing destruction. Eventually we managed to communicate with him, and this was what he wanted. He never explained why, and refuses to do so, but the best guess we could get is that he's mentakly disturbed in some way, a disturbance that came long before we found him." The doctor carefully looked upon the man in question, staring into nothing, almost as if he were wishing the bindings were doing something to him.

"Doctor, we're arriving at the location." The pilot informed.

Upon landing, the man was escorted to his new 'home'; several thousand feet below the deepest part of the ocean, surrounded by steel, concrete, and bedrock, walls lined with thick dampening sheets, the room was built to hold a great force, a much weaker force than it currently housed. Upon entering, the man simply sat on the bed and again stared into nothing, but this time in deep thought and contemplation. This single action scared the doctor more than anything else, as he was now witnessing the single most important decision of possibly the entire world being made in the head of a man who can not be stopped.

"Why do I still feel? Why didn't this work? I just wanted some form of peace, but my mind is still clouded, I can't think straight, the only time I can make coherent thoughts is when I'm trying to kill something, why. Is this a curse? Does magic exist? Did I slight some wizard? Or perhaps reincarnation exists alongside the magic and I was particularly horrible to a power mage in a previous life? I hate this. I just want to have a clear mind. And the doctor, he won't be able to help me, he tried and failed, my body rejects medications, my mind can not be cleared through his methods. I just want a clear head, and I need to think straight right now, I just need to be able to see through this haze. What should I do? Why do i wonder? Why do I sit here and ask myself questions i ready decided on?" The man sat unblinking before looking at the doctor and doing something he was never seen doing before; he grinned, sheepishly, but a grin nonetheless.

The end.

The hero was truly a veteran of his work, defeating most every challenge he has been out against. Did he always come out unscathed? We're the evil plans always stopped absolutely? Did he win every fight? No, but he has always pushed further than his peers regardless of how hopeless it all seemed. Where others saw unending misery, unbeatable, unable to be fought, wholly unconquerable, he saw the reason to push forward, to look for the light at the tunnel, to find the stars in the blackest of night. Now, ashen haired, wrinkled, and a slowly failing body, he is once again requested to save them again.

"No." Was the cold, emotionless response.

"What? But... You can't say no!" Panicked the office workers who handle sending distress signals.

The elderly hero took a seat in his well used couch and gestured his guests to sit wherever they please.

"That so? Well... Who will stop me? You've been content to never push anyone to my level, so now what will you do since I now have a fully understanding that I can simply refuse your orders?" He didn't speak with care nor any true politeness, he simply spoke what had been on his mind for the last several decades it had been apparent that he would have no successor.

"We... We do have one, but he's erratic, and arrogant, but you're level headed and don't make mistakes--" Before the cowardly office workers could finish his sentence the hero bellowed out a hearty laugh.

"I won't make mistakes?! I'm not arrogant?! Not erratic?! Do you even know who I am?! I've been doing this since before you were even a tickle in your father's undropped balls, kid, you may have given this new guy power but he never earned it, even if he matches my power he will never, EVER come even close to my skill if all he needs to do is swing a wild haymaker or two!" The office workers shaking fingers pressed a button that had yet gone unnoticed, and moments later a much younger hero appeared, barely 19, barely any chance to grow facial hair.

His body was toned and powerful, bulging muscles, his speed and strength unmatched.

"You called?" The arrogant youth spoke to the horrified office workers, who had barely noticed what had transpired.

"This is my... Successor? All that power and he can't even use it. Say, kid, you know any fighting styles? Any real experience besides swinging like a blinded dumbass?" The youthful hero ignored the veteran and approached the two office workers, sitting stock still from fear.

"This the guy you two said could end me? This... Frail old man? Ha!" The young man turned to size up his opponent.

Before anyone could possibly say another word, the youth attempted to strike the veteran but was blocked and parried perfectly.

"Wha-- How the hell did you do that?! You couldn't even track me when I came in!" Screamed out the immature fighter.

"Some things you can only learn by kicking the shit kicked out of you, and I am about to teach you a whole fuckin' lot of new things." The veteran no longer spoke emotionless or apathetically, rather with cold, cruel intention, the urge to maim slicking his words like poison.

For hours the two 'fought', the veteran blocking, dodging, and parrying every strike thrown at him, the youth hardly capable of tanking even a small strike. Eventually they both stopped, and the youth began puking blood.

"Wha--???" Blood was pouring from his body in several areas, most concerningly his mouth and head.

"The fact you can't even close a fist anymore means I caused nerve damage, the blood means internal bleeding, and it being mixed with your stomach fluids just means it's much worse than regular internal bleeding, which you also have, severely. And those spasms you've been experiencing the last half hour you tried power through? Blood is leaking into your skull, and your inability to see straight or clear is from loss of blood pressure. Your wobbly legs means either brain or spine damage, but judging from the fact you can still feel them I'm gonna go with brain. You no doubt have no kidney on the right-- wait... Yeah, your right side. Your liver is no doubt shot as well, and that shallow breathing? Collapsed lung. If you were anyone else you'd be dead, not because you're tougher than most, but because I need a successor and you're the closest I have." The words were factual, not cruel or evil, simply existing to state the current state of things.

The office workers stood and called an ambulance for the youth and promptly left without saying another word. The veteran looked out his window, wondering why he allowed himself to be the only one anyone can rely on, and more so why his friends never made it to their 40's before passing but he has managed to live to 96 and have no true major affects of aging.

The End.

That's what happened to Senator Armstrong and Eren Jaeger, neither are even really as wrong as the story is trying to make them, so the respective authors gave a 'kick the dog' moment to both (Armstrong in a literal sense, Eren in a metaphorical sense)

Ted Kaczynski

He can hear them approaching ever closer

thump thump thump thump

The rhythmic sound of boots pounding against the hardwood floor of his home. He built this house with his own hands for him and his family

Thump Thump Thump Thump

He simply did not like large urban areas, they made him uncomfortable. His wife too. That's why they moved out here, to be away from a world they could not stand living in, but never once interfering with the lives of others. Live and let live was their motto

THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP

Living in the wilderness, he and his family needed a means to protect himself, and so he bought rifles, hand guns, shotguns, anything needed to hunt deer, kill pests, or even take down bears if the need arose. Living so far away from civilization he assumed it wouldn't matter what he did to his own property

THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP

He had a healthy armament, much of it being illegal to own in some fashion, but he would never think of using such weaponry on animals unless forced to, he simply had them for fun with target practice. He also had a farm and water well to sustain his family, along with cows and chickens, wild game was more of a 'holiday treat' in his household due to the abundance of fish, beef, poultry, and vegetables. He had a gasoline generator, but only used it during the harshest of winters and was otherwise without power. Now he sits alone, in his empty two person bed and cradle, wondering why the world is so cruel

BANG BANG BANG

"ATF, OPEN UP!!"

The man was able to hold out in his home for over three days, and only retreated deeper into his household after his wife and young son were shot. In his final moments, he simply sat and prayed to God to see his wife and child again.

The End.

Commenting so I can come back later