A little slow updating (for me anyway.) Enjoy.
"Alright! Today, you start on the road to demon-slaying." Dante said. Vance was sitting cross-legged on the floor as Dante wheeled out a newly bought chalkboard. The repairs to the shop had taken about a week. Dante had been forced to helped out, though not by Trish. The local police didn't seem to like collapsed buildings overflowing into the sidewalk for some reason.
"First things first!" Dante said, looking over at Vance one more time. "You have got to lose the Harry Potter look." Vance opened his mouth to protest but Dante shot him down. (Figuratively speaking). "No buts! The untidy black hair, the thick glasses…you even have bright green eyes! And buddy, by the time you're done, you'll have a scar." Dante said with a chuckle.
Vance visibly swallowed, but he listened. "Good." Dante said, taking note that the kid was still serious about the matter. "No self-respecting devil-hunter looks like the world's favorite geek. Now, I'm not exactly sure what to get you…." Dante said thinking. "We'll worry about the real clothing later. But now, all you need is a dark t-shirt and some black sweatpants. And from now on, you wear contacts."
"I thought that the whole dark and dismal idea related to demons was just stereotypical." Vance told Dante.
"Listen kid, every stereotype begins with some truth, otherwise it obviously wouldn't exist. For instance! Blondes go on and on about how the world thinks they're stupid and its not fair. But! If the blondes stopped walking into doors, the world would stop thinking that, right. The truth here is, that dark clothes cover up the blood when it gets on you. But if you want, go ahead and wear white. See what happens then."
Vance shook his head. Dante continued. "Now then. We have come to the real beginning." Dante flipped the chalkboard over and on the other side were notes written across it. "Forget everything you've heard about devil-hunting. I'm here to show you the fact. And the fact is, that devil-hunters are not cool because they are strong, but strong because they are cool."
Dante tapped the chalkboard with his sword, indicating the large letters at the top. They read; 'SRS'.
"Welcome! To the Style-Ranking System. Developed by yours truly. From now on, everything you do will be monitored. Trash-talking, gun-slinging, food preference…don't give me that face!" Dante shouted at the skeptical Vance. "Almost everything can be tied to the SRS. In order to pass the training and receive your graduation token, you will need to work up to at least a 'B' rank. I'll be the judge of course."
"Graduation token?" Trish asked, coming down the stairs. "You've actually put thought into it Dante?"
"Yeah I suppose so…if I'm going to do this then I might as well make it professional." Dante said shrugging.
"Thank you sir." Vance said with an enormous smile. He took this 'graduation token' development as his first real proof of acceptance.
Dante sighed and shook his head. "Don't do that kid. That's called 'beaming'. Only nerds, little children and British people 'beam' when they smile. That stops today. And for the love of God! Don't call me sir!" Dante kicked the chalkboard away while Vance's smile faltered.
"Alright. For now we are done with writing and the technical stuff. Now we begin practice. You 'beam' so far. Now we are going to work on your grin, and eventually, at higher levels, the all-powerful smirk." Dante said. Trish scoffed in the background and Dante whirled on her. "Trish. Have faith. You know not the raw power of the smirk."
Dante turned back to Vance. "Now then, show me what you've got." Vance seemed to concentrate hard for several moments, before resurfacing with a meek curling of the lips.
Dante stared at him, before exploding. "What the hell is that! That is not a grin!" Vance shrunk back at his voice. "See that! A grin is fearless. It shows that you aren't worried even if you are scared to death! It lets you stay cool under extreme conditions. Without the grin, you can't be a Devil-Hunter." Trish sighed again. Dante corrected himself. "At least not here. Now! Do it again!"
They practiced all day, from 10 a.m. until 5 p.m. Apparently Vance was on vacation, he had 2 uninterrupted weeks before he went back to his High School as a Senior. Dante's first goal was to send him back with some form of confidence, though he did not tell Vance this.
Vance went home that night with his cheeks burning.
"Alright kid." Dante said. It was the next day, Vance's house. His parent's were at work and his sister was out with friends. Dante had decided that it was time to check out what Vance was all about. As he expected, it was pretty bad.
Star Wars posters on every wall, miniature toys that he had put together, comic books the toys came from, airplane models, a t.v and PS2 in the corner. And, the worst was…a Harry Potter sleeping bag tucked away in the closet.
"You know all this has to go right?" Dante said in a slightly pointed manner. Vance's eyes immediately grew wide and he rushed to the table where his toys were "Not my toys! They're priceless. Take this Mega-man here." Vance said, lovingly picking up and cradling the blue figure. "Its limited edition, mint-condition. Do you know how much this is worth?" Vance asked, waving the blue bomber in Dante's face.
Dante slapped him.
"I'm going to say this once, and only once. You are a senior in two weeks. The toys have to go. And I'm not talking about storing them away someplace safe either. You either give them away, sell them or destroy them. We want no trace of Mega-man in here. Got it?"
Vance, rubbing his cheek resentfully said nothing. He was starting to think that this had been a very bad idea. Dante was mean in person, and didn't seem to like Vance at all.
"I'm not mean. I'm just unexpectedly strict. You wouldn't tell by looking at me in action though." Dante said from nowhere while inspecting Vance's DVD stack. "And I'm not reading your mind either. I can just tell from the look in your eyes so don't freak. I hate kids that freak."
Vance, who had been thinking exactly that at that exact moment, kept silent until Dante spoke again. "Vance, really. Why do you of all people want to be a demon-slayer? You are so obviously not cut out for it I couldn't force a laugh. You're human, you don't look as though you've done a push-up in your life. We'll test your sword skills out tomorrow, but I doubt you have any. Why?"
Vance took a moment to answer, before deciding to tell Dante the truth. "I'm tired of being ignored by everyone."
"Ignored?"
"Yeah. I don't even get pushed around, they just treat me like I'm not there. You don't know what that's like!"
Dante thought for a moment. "You are absolutely right. I have no idea what that feels like."
"I want to be stronger so at least they notice me a little, you know? And so I can defend myself if I had to. And…" Vance mumbled for a moment, unsure to continue. "There's this girl…"
Dante clapped his hands together. "Now we've hit the real reason! There's a girl involved huh? Of course there is. There's always a girl. Boy am I relieved, I was starting to think you were gay." Dante didn't feel a shred of guilt at Vance's shocked face. "You know, rambling off about wanting attention and all…but you really just want hers so its all good."
Dante jumped to his feet (he had been sitting on Vance's bed.) "It all makes sense. Well Vance! You've come to the right place. From now on, your training will be all about Love and War. How to get the girl you want, and how to kick any demon's ass that gets in your way! For no one knows more about the opposite sex than me."
Dante took another look around the room. "But this is going to take one hell of a job. A lot of hard work. You sure you're ready?"
"Yes….Dante." Vance said, remembering not to say 'sir'.
"Great! Then as long as you are willing, I, Dante son of Sparda (somewhere on the Earth, lightning crashes), hereby swear to teach you all you need to know in the ways of the Devil Hunter. Now, after taking this oath, I must prepare. Meet me at the Agency first thing tomorrow. Your work is done for today."
And with that, Dante swept out of the room leaving Vance behind in a state of uneasy wonder. This couldn't possibly turn out well…could it?
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