"You hungry, kiddo?"

Valeria looked over at Frank suspiciously as he opened the front passenger door of his car. They stood outside the detention center, his green sedan parked in the parking lot. She maintained her distance, studying him with suspicious glances. "Yeah. But I'm not getting in that car with you. Aren't you supposed to be some kind of  wizard? Can't you just teleport us out of here?"

Frank laughed. "I never said I was a wizard. There's roads where we're going, so hop in."

Valeria shook her head. She tried to act defiant, but deep down - she was still afraid. "I thought you're not supposed to get in cars with strangers?"

"You're mostly right. I would say it's not wise to get in a stranger's car unarmed. I can fix that." He reached for something on his belt and offered it.

When Valeria looked down, she realized he held a knife with the blade in his hand, and the handle extended toward her. She carefully grabbed the odd knife and pocketed it. She reached for the rear passenger door, but Frank stopped her.

"Nah-ah, kiddo. Always sit up front, where you can see the driver's hands."

Valeria nodded before sitting in the front passenger seat. Frank closed her door, walked around to the driver's seat, and sat down. She marveled at how he simply started the car without batting an eyelash. "Aren't you worried I'll stab you?"

He laughed. "Nope. Hungry for anything in particular?"

Valeria shook her head and said, "Whatever you suggest, Mr. Luis."

"Name's Frank. I know a decent diner up ahead, if that's okay with you?"

"Sure," Valeria replied with little interest. She anticipated Frank trying to engage her in conversation, but he never did. They sat in the car silently for the next ten minutes until they pulled up to a rundown diner.

She followed him inside, and watched him flash a charming  smile at the hostess."Table for two please."

The hostess winked at Frank before leading them to a nearby booth. As they both sat down, he looked up at the hostess with that same smooth smile.

"Pardon me...Dolores?" he asked. "I know this isn't your job, but could I trouble you for a cup of coffee while we wait for our waitress? I've been up all-night packing, so my daughter here could make it in time for college orientation."

The hostess swooned over him. "Sure thing, hon. I'll be right back."

Valeria crossed her arms after the hostess left. "You're pathetic."

"No, I'm charismatic."

"What does that mean?"

Frank leaned forward and planted both hands on the table. "It means I've got Game, Mojo, or whatever you kids call it. We used to just call it charm."

The hostess returned with a pot of coffee, mugs, and poured them both a cup.

As the hostess filled her cup, Valeria looked up at her with a frown. "So...you think my dad is charming?"

The hostess looked taken aback. "Well, you could say that. He reminds me of a younger George Clooney back in the Ocean's Eleven days. Your mom is a lucky woman."

Valeria noticed Frank smiling at the hostess, but he didn't offer a reply. Watching the two of them for a moment, she suddenly had an idea. She brought both hands up to her face and attempted fake sobs. She knew this performance wouldn't win an academy award - but it would do the trick nonetheless.

"My goodness," the hostess said with a concerned tone. "What's wrong dear?"

Valeria wiped her eyes and looked up. "My mom died last year. She was really looking forward to this trip, and always said I'd be the first in the family to go to college."

The hostess padded her shoulder gently. "My goodness! I'm so sorry, dear. Here, let me get you a slice of pie – on the house."

Valeria nodded. "Apple pie, please?"

The hostess smiled and said, "Of course, I'll be right back."

Valeria kept up the sad display until the hostess left. She held up her coffee mug and winked at Frank, who simply beamed at her.

"See...you're a natural," Frank said, clanging his mug against hers.

"So," Valeria continued, "Are you going to tell me about this special world of yours now?"

Frank's smile faded. "Not here. But we can talk about it more on the road."

"So, what would you like to talk about?"

Frank lowered his mug and met her eyes with a serious expression. "I was hoping to talk about you."

"Talk about me?" She hadn't expected this response. She knew most adults liked to talk about themselves or give directions; do this, don't do that. No one had expressed genuine interest before, and while this new figure and his motives intrigued Valeria, she tried her best to not let it show.  "You want to know what other talents I have?" she asked with a yawn.

"No, I already know you're talented," Frank replied with a flat tone. He perked up as he continued with, "Tell me what you like. Music? Sports? Movies?"

"Are you saying you want to get to know me?" She had intended to ask the question without letting any emotion seep through. But she could detect the uncertainty in her voice, and she was sure Frank could too.

"Yeah," Frank said with a nod, "I do."

"No one has cared about me. Not since my parents died, anyways." The words stung, but rung true. Valeria was  beginning to come off the rails, but she didn't care. She was tired of playing this cat and mouse game with this man, and she decided to cut to the chase. Her voice quivered with anger and skepticism as she asked the question she'd been holding back the entire time. "Why am I important to you?"

Frank took a deep breath, and said, "This might sound a little creepy, but I've been watching you for a little over a month. Not in a stalker kind of way. More like a guardian angel kind of way -"

"That's not an answer," Valeria interrupted. "That's deflection."

"I wasn't finished," Frank continued. "Like every teenage girl nowadays; you're brash, self-centered, and disrespectful. But you're important because you're smart, good natured, and charming in your own way. In a lot of ways...you remind me of someone I used to know."

"Who?"

Frank struggled to produce a response, but stopped as the hostess returned with Valeria's slice of apple pie. He succeeded at charming the hostess even further, and persuaded the woman to take their main order. Their food came quickly, and Valeria dove into the piles of food like a wild animal.

It's been a long time since someone bought me a meal.

She noticed Frank watching her with a smile as she ate, and truly wondered what the man's motives were. Why would he be so nice to me? Is he actually caring, or is he using the same charming skills to manipulate me too?

While they ate, Valeria tried her best to answer Frank's questions. She learned that he loved baseball, Sinatra, and mafia movies. In return, she revealed her passion for soccer, Camilla Cabello, and comic book movies. They found common ground on the comic book heroes when Frank told her he had been an avid comic book collector as a child. They continued their conversation in the car as Frank drove them to their destination, wherever that might be.

Sitting in the car for so long eventually became uncomfortable, so Valeria lifted her legs and crossed both feet on top of the dash. She expected Frank to scold her, but the man never did. Instead, he pointed at the silver anklet on her right ankle. "Thats nice. Did you steal it?"

"No," Valeria replied while looking over at the anklet and its intricate star and moon ornaments. "It was my Dad's."

"I see," Frank replied.

Valeria detected concern in his voice. She had tried to offer a plain and emotionless response. But she knew it wasn't easy to remain detached while discussing her dead parents.

After an awkward silence, Frank pointed to the windshield and asked, "First time seeing the NYC skyline?"

Valeria looked over at the skyscrapers materializing along the horizon. The sun had already begun to set, casting an orange glow across the massive skyscrapers as they drove closer to the city limits. "I saw it once when I was young."

"I always love seeing this skyline; it reminds me of all the possibilities this city has to offer."

Valeria rolled her eyes as she looked out the passenger window. She had heard all of this before. America: the land of opportunity. She knew the truth; the opportunity only existed for the few, and she didn't make that cut. "Maybe for someone like you," she said. "That city has nothing to offer someone like me."

"What makes you say that?" Frank asked.

"Immigrants like me aren't welcome there."

Frank laughed. "You're kidding, right? Almost half the city is filled with immigrants. Italian Americans like me, Latinos, African Americans, Asian Americans, you name it."

Valeria remembered their conversation back at the detention center. Frank had promised to introduce her to a new world, but she was skeptical. As Valeria looked over at the familiar buildings along the horizon, she asked, "So, New York is this special world you were talking about?"

"Part of it...yeah."

"And where do I fit into this world of yours?"

"I already told you that you're special, Valeria. While everyone else in the ordinary world may have abandoned or neglected you, people in my world will be fighting over the chance to welcome you into their home."

She blinked at him with a sudden sense of nostalgia.

Somebody told me that before.

She regained her composure and returned to a defiant posture. "I seriously doubt that, Frank. No one has ever wanted to adopt me before. Why would they now?"

Frank eyed her curiously from the driver seat. "Because, you're unique. The French call it a je ne sais quoi. My Italian mother would say you've got the right amount of sauce, while my Jewish father would say you've got the right amount of chutzpah."

Valeria's expression softened. "I'm not really sure what those mean. What do you think of me?"

"I think you're rough around the edges," Frank began with a sarcastic tone, before switching to a serious one. "But deep down, you've got the right amount of charm. Any family would be lucky to have you."

She gave him a weak smile.

I've never had anyone compliment me like that before. But I can't stop wondering if he's being sincere, or manipulative?

"You said I'll be learning new skills in your special world?" Valeria asked. "Define skills..."

"Most skills are based in the real world," Frank replied while focusing on the road. "While a few others are beyond your comprehension. Some might even call some of our talents...mystical."

The word hit Valeria like a pile of bricks. She had already anticipated all different types of scenarios Frank would try to sell her, but not this one. She held up the Harry Potter book in her lap as she asked, "Mystical? You mean like magic? Don't tell me we're going to New York's version of Hogwarts?"

Frank laughed, and said, "Not a terrible guess. I already told you I'm not a wizard. But that doesn't mean there aren't other forms of magic. You really like reading those books, huh?"

"When trapped at a detention center," Valeria countered as she placed the book back in her lap, "I didn't have much else to do."

"Good point," Frank said, pausing a moment. "Well, I've got good and bad news for you. Arcane magic used to be real. Not anymore."

Valeria studied Frank silently a moment. She truly found him difficult to read. His comments could be portrayed as comedic, serious, or flat out crazy. If the latter were true, she needed to figure out the best way to respond without aggravating this psycho and giving him incentive to murder her.  She picked the optimistically skeptical approach for now. "Uh huh. Sure."

"I wish I was kidding," Frank replied with a sigh, "But I'm not. The Mage Faction went extinct one thousand years ago."

Valeria bit her lip; the psycho scenario had become increasingly plausible. "The Mage Faction? What is that?" she asked, both trying to sound interested and casually reaching in her jacket pocket. Luckily, the knife Frank gave her was still there.

"Yep," Frank rambled on. "All your wizards, warlocks, enchanters...all gone. It's for the best honestly; they usually caused way too much trouble."

"That's too bad," Valeria replied, trying her best to mask her sarcasm.

"I'll let you read up on them and the other factions later."

"Other factions?" Valeria asked with surprise. This time, her response was genuine. "What other factions?"

Frank winked at her as he said, "All in good time."

"Are you in a...faction?"

"Uh huh," Frank replied with a wide grin. "The best one."

"What's yours?" While she was still overly skeptical, the disbelief was slowly being overtaken by curiosity. She waited for Frank to respond, but he remained silent while focusing on navigating. They were currently in some sort of tunnel, and she noticed a sign that read, 'Holland Tunnel.' Once they exited the tunnel and reached downtown Manhattan, Valeria felt her impatience take over. "Answer me! Don't make me stab you!"

Frank looked over at her with a sly grin. "You thought I was crazy, didn't you? Well now who's the crazy one threatening to stab an unarmed man?"

"I didn't think you were crazy -"

"You're a terrible liar, kiddo," Frank interrupted. "But don't worry - I'll give you a clue. Ask yourself: what do Robin Hood, Zorro, and Han Solo all have in common?"

Valeria responded with the first thing that came to mind. "They were all played by old guys."

Frank laughed. "I guess that's true; maybe I am getting old. Can you think of any other similarities?"

Valeria groaned as she looked out the window. "They were all outlaws."

"Exactly," Frank replied with enthusiasm. "They were men who decided to live by their own rules. They rejected the standards of the so-called normal society."

Valeria couldn't help but notice how these characters were all men. Surely, there must be some female outlaws worthy of mentioning. While she felt the urge to point this out, she decided to refrain for now. She knew Frank was getting close to presenting his employment opportunity, and unlike the crazier scenario he presented earlier, this one sounded more realistic. "If we followed their example, wouldn't that make us criminals?"

"Yes," Frank said with a sigh. "But being a criminal does not necessarily make a person evil. There is a difference."

"And what would that be?"

"Motivation," Frank said, taking a moment to look her way. "The reason a criminal chooses to break the law. Are you breaking it for your own gain, or for the sake of others?" he asked, before turning back to the road.

Valeria frowned. "Criminals don't care about other people."

"Some don't," Frank replied plainly. "Some do."

"Are you a criminal?"

"Yes," he replied with a devilish grin. "Does that frighten you?"

She smirked at him. "Not really. At least you're honest. So what? Are you going to teach me how to be a criminal?"

"No. I'm going to teach you how to become a Master of Stealth."

The words hung in the air for a long moment, as Valeria simply had no rational response to a title like that. Part of her felt like they were returning to the realm of crazy, while another part was intrigued. After careful contemplation, she settled for the only reasonable response. "What does that mean?"

Frank's face erupted into a devilish smile as he said, "Give me a few minutes to focus on navigating the East Side toward the Brooklyn Bridge. Once we're in Brooklyn, I'll tell you what it means. And I know you've been preparing yourself to be disappointed by the 'crazy' guy you just met. But I'll say this for now kiddo: I'm not crazy, and no matter how much you think you are - you are definitely not prepared for what's ahead."