Author's Note/Disclaimer: I don't own Dante or Trish. They're Capcom's, those lucky…anyway, just so you know, the one specific car mentioned by its model name is real. You'll know which one I'm talking about ;o).

This was supposed to be the happiest day of Dante's life, and he's had very little of them. Short of defeating Mundus and "reuniting" with his family one way or another. In the morning, he would watch the three-hour MuchMusic special, Sidewalk Santas: The Horrible Truth, followed by a special on the next Street Fighter movie, to be directed by Ang Lee. After that, he'd have the power to take a few cases before resting for the night in front of a rerun of Disney's Resident Evil. However, he'd have to miss the special, and forget about the exclusive interview with the "Crouching Tiger…" director, for today was that dark day that most teenagers had already experienced. And before you ask, no, the VCR has been broken for days, after he disapproved of the ending to Gladiator.

"Dante," Trish's shrill voice pierced through the walls, "today's the day for your driver's test!"

He wished for anything that would end his life right now. A stronger Nightmare unit landing on his head, or a Phantom spewing a pillar of searing souls right through him. If he knew this day would come from living with Trish, he would've asked to turn back time and let Mundus land on him deep in the sewers. He wasn't that lucky though, because they were all dead, or wouldn't return for a long time to come. Until then, he'd have to take this with one breath after the other, and pray to the gods that he'd back in one piece, and Trish in many for putting him up to this.

After a hearty breakfast of three pounds of scrambled eggs with cheese, a bag of bacon, and piece of toast, Trish continued a smile that started from Dante's consumption as she knew what would come of today's lesson. Following a frightening belch, Dante asked, "I don't see why I need this. I can fly around to places. How else do you think we got to Mallet Island?" "Yeah," Trish laughed, "but what if you wanna' have kids to carry on your legacy, you gotta' take 'em to school in a way that won't involve questioning from the cops." "It'll be okay, Trish," he assured, "I'll just tell 'em that I'm from Jersey." "That excuse can't work forever," she scoffed, "now, are you gassed out from the food?" "Yeah, I hope so," he smiled, holding in the flatulence until they got inside the car, and unleashed his countermeasure.

He was then shown what type of cars he'd have to choose from, as if he were playing Ridge Racer. The choices were between a brand new DeLorean, a sleek, restored, and ironically named 1970 Street Fighter, and a white Hertz with a large decal of a vivacious brunette with a gothic take on a bikini. As Dante immediately headed towards the third choice, Trish pulled him towards the Street Fighter. He sighed and tried to fight her inhuman grip, but the saddening combination of missing out on the specials and the test itself gave his mother figure (in every way) the upper hand.

"So how does it feel to get in a car for once," she asked once the vehicle started up. "I've been in cars before," Dante whined, "just never drove one. I hope you wrote your last will and testament last night." "You'll do fine," she said before a hesitant pause, "and I made a tape instead of writing it."

"Cool. See? You're getting the hang of this world."

"Not quite," she frowned, "I'm still trying to figure out that George Foreman grill. Came close to dying twice."

Dante left that revelation open, as he stopped at a light. He thought back to see if he had forgotten anything at home. That's when it hit him, as he turned to Trish, "I forgot my permit." "I have it," she chirped as she pulled it out her pocket and placed it in his jacket pocket. He rolled his eyes and faked a smile, as the light turned green, and the street surface began to seem a little different.

"I was out here this morning, and the road wasn't' this rocky," she said in a high pitched confusion. "Oh man, I can sense it happening, already," Dante said apathetically. "What," questioned Trish, as a piece of the road came to life from behind them in the form of a spider.

To Be Continued…