Eric swept his store, trying his best to clean up after closing his shop for the day. His phone buzzed and his heart raced. He hoped it hoped it to be Jesse's cousin attempting to keep in contact after leaving the beach town where he resided, but instead, it was his phone reminding him of his upcoming therapy appointment. He frowned, a bit disappointed, but he shouldn't expect them to reach out after all he did. He pushed his glasses up, set his broom to the side, and walked out the door.

The streets were quiet due to the lack of a specific person. Eric was honestly stunned-Who knew someone was capable of doing that? If this was how solemn all the others reacted, no wonder they chose everyone except him. When he passed Rowan's mansion, they stood outside with Crowley. They seemed more depressed than usual, which caused Eric to shoot an expression he didn't realize he had.

Rowan scoffed. "Don't you have better things to do besides stalking someone who's a sentient weapon?"

Stalking... That's what he did, didn't he? That's what he commanded that monster he created to do, as well. Eric, the Stalker, was a criminal. Yet, the one he loved was kind enough to not call the police or press charges. That kindness was what drove him mad, but it was also the same thing that made him seek help.

Eric mumbled some half-assed apology and continued on his way, ignoring the orange tabby that hissed at his mere presence.

In the neighboring town was a rather discreet building that you wouldn't know harbored violent people with criminal pasts unless you searched the street address or building name. Regardless, Eric double-checked to make sure he was on the correct side of the street, he was on time, and had the correct date by checking the business card given to him.

"This seems to be the right spot... Hope this isn't all for nothing."

He went to open the door, only to find it locked. Confused, he looked around until he noticed an intercom. He pressed the button.

"Hi, what's the purpose of your visit?" the graining, almost annoyed-sounding woman's voice spoke on the other side.

"I, um," Eric cleared his voice. "M-My name is Eric. I have an appointment today at 6:30 P.M."

He heard various papers shuffling. "Oh, the first timer. The doors unlocked. Come in and wait for the escort."

"Thank you very much." When he heard the doors click open, he stepped inside, waiting at the end of a staircase. He crossed his arms and nervously tapped his foot. He shouldn't be surprised that there was an escort into the clinic, but the idea of him being treated the same as attempted murderers, thieves, or any criminal made him greatly uncomfortable. It was a feeling he would need to get used to, as he was now one of them.

Finally, a man came down. "Eric?"

"Yes?"

"Walk in front of me."

Eric blinked. "What?"

"You heard me-Walk in front of me. I need to make sure you don't try anything. Unless you want me to take your hand-"

"Er, no thank you..." Eric approached the man and began walking up the stairs, growing more and more confused.

"At the top of this staircase, turn and go up the second one, then enter the only door you see."

Eric did as he was told, opening the door and finding a waiting room filled with people. Some were reading, others were on their phone, and a few talking with others around them. The voice from the intercom cleared her throat and Eric turned around. She tapped a pen on a clipboard before putting it down on the other side of the glass that cut off the receptionist area and the waiting room and turning around in her chair to continue with whatever work she was doing.

So, Eric grabbed it and sat down, only for the escort to handcuff his arm to the armrest. He, of course, jumped up in shock. "Why did you do that!?"

"Didn't you read the paperwork we sent?" The man questioned, sitting in the chair next to him and crossing his legs. "'All new clientele is to be restrained to their seats until their assigned therapist deems them not a threat or have a trusted person with a verified background check to accompany them to every appointment.' They would, of course, have to sign the same paperwork you did, minus the page about medical stuff."

Eric gulped, sitting back down. Trying to avoid the eyes laid upon him, he turned to his questionnaire and filled it out to the best of his ability.

1. You understand despite the differences between weapons and wielders, we are all still human.
A: Yes, more recently though.

3. Your mood can be easily labeled.
A: No, but I want that changed.

11. The slightest thing can get you angry.
A: Not really...

13. Are you known to send many messages regardless of form to someone you have a strong fondness for?
A: Yes, but we're going to fix that.

24. Loneliness is your most frequent emotion.
A: Yes

"Eric," he heard his voice be called. He looked up to see a woman with a smile and pantsuit. "I can see you now."

The escort took out his key, unlocked the cuffs, and Eric stood up, rubbing his wrists, and approached the therapist, the man not straying far behind. She walked in silence but kept her smile, until reaching her office.

"Now we can talk in private. You can go in first and adjust to the scenery." She opened the door and allowed him to enter. She stepped in behind him, closed the door, and sat at her desk. Eric sat in a chair right next to it. "May I see your papers?"

Eric gave her the packet. She flipped through it, nodded to herself, and typed in the computer. "It says here on the applicant profile you'd prefer to skip introductions and go straight into it so that's what we'll do." She shook her head to get her hair behind her back, straightened her papers, and crossed her leg over the other. "What brought you to the office today?"

Eric dug into his pocket and pulled out a piece of chipped metal. It was from Masamune. He tossed it onto the doctor's desk. She picked it up and inspected it. "That's from... a friend of a friend. Their name is Sawyer. They're a Glaive and that metal is from their blade. They weren't the only one I took from, however..."

"Before you tell me the other people you have pieces of, may I ask why you wanted or have them in the first place?"

Eric paused. Would it even be believable to this woman that he created life artificially? Or would she call him insane like the others who attended the clinic? It was stressful being the only sane person besides the doctors.

"Eric?"

"Right, sorry..." He inhaled. "I... put various weapons' metals into a... creature I made named Masamune. Besides Sawyer, there was a cat named Pocket-he's a pair of brass knuckles. Then, of course, there's the laser saber. Ever heard of the band Blade Generation?"

"Yes...?"

"Well, there's a piece of Seven in there. Valeria the dagger was put in there as well and we can't forget about that nightclub owner, Sunder, who's a Talwar."

The therapist nodded her head as she finished writing, then looked up. "So, what you're essentially telling me is you created a person like Frankenstein with these pieces?"

"Frankenstein's monster you mean, but yes, except Masamune was supposed to be nothing more than a servant with no free will. I believe he only went against that because he inherited intelligence from those metal pieces."

His therapist exhaled, taking off her glasses and putting them on her desk. "Eric, my entire job is to work with criminals so I want to understand your side of the story... Why did you believe this was a good idea?"

Eric himself wasn't so sure anymore. "I... desperately wanted someone who I couldn't have. I needed some way to know where they were so I could... surprise them. Maybe if they saw how dedicated I was, or if I was in the right place at the right time, I could win their love. I could learn information with Masamune I could never learn on my own, I thought I was a genius! But in the end, that hyper-fixation on a former buddy from high school's cousin and my suppressed feelings led to people getting into danger."

"If you figured out how to do all that, you are a genius, but that doesn't mean you're not doing wrong." That hurt Eric to hear, but he knew he needed to hear it. It was true. "Now, tell me more of this cousin of a friend and those feelings you have. I feel like that's a fantastic place to start working on."