1st 5 Pages April Workshop- Lott Rev 2

Name: Courtney Lott

Genre: Young Adult: Science Fiction/Fantasy

Title: Guard of the Ungifted: The Flight of Connor Gray

Pitch:

As one of the Gifted, fifteen year old Connor Gray should only have one power, yet he has three, and according to his parents, he might develop more. For his family's safety and his own, he must hide his extra gifts from a power hungry politician who seeks him. Not an easy task when every bully tests his patience, and self control.

When the politician sends a possessed bounty hunter after him, Connor is forced to risk exposure to save his friends, family, and life itself. Facing blood-cursed beings, shady genetics projects, an ever-present A.I. system, and worst of all, puberty, Connor fights for what's left of his family. If he can't protect the world from a will-enslaving spell he's discovered, the gifts will be destroyed forever.

Revision:

Drones buzzed over the glass roof of the Avon Counseling Center. Connor ducked his head as their blue lights scanned the area and hit the status button on the rim of his glasses: Full Power, incognito mode active trailed across the inside of the lenses in green text. As he waited for the hum overhead to fade, Connor squinted at the golden words on the squat sign near the front steps.

...No Gift shall be elevated above the rest…

When the drones passed, Connor flipped up his jacket collar against the cold and scanned the crowd of kids shuffling toward the entrance. A few feet ahead, a group from his school pushed their way down the sidewalk. Their leader, Max Anderson, Guardian and unapologetic jerk, shoved an Ungifted boy out of his way. The kid hit the ground with a loud oof.

“Watch where you’re going, junk-genes,” Max said.

Connor cringed at the hissed phrase. So much for Guardians protecting the Ungifted.

With a slow breath, Connor glared as Max jerked the Ungifted kid up by his sweater. The tips of his shoes swung inches from the concrete. Every muscle in Connor’s arms shook, vibrating the sidewalk. In California, he’d blown his cover by Telekinetically shoving someone across the soccer field. His mom would kill him if they had to move again this soon. Another breath and the Telekinetic tremors ebbed.

Leave it alone.

Connor clenched both hands in his jacket pockets and scanned the crowd near the front of the center. Traffic-bots stood close to the entrance, ushering kids and small handfuls of adults inside or directing air traffic. Counselors would all be inside by now.

Leave it alone. You’ve almost made it an entire month under the radar…This time he glanced down the sidewalk. Come on, somebody, anybody...Connor’s palms itched but he forced himself to walk around Max and his victim. Don’t do anything. It’s too risky. Too many people around.

Max shook the kid in his fist.

Connor threw one last glance at the entrance, then pivoted to face Max and his crew. “Leave him alone, man.”

Green eyes narrowed in his direction. Max sneered. “Excuse me?”

A group of other Gifted kids hovered around Max. Some wore aviator goggles over windswept hair; others tossed baseball-sized fireballs between their hands.

Hands still buried in his pockets, Connor flexed his fingers. “Back off.”

“What, you the Guardian police?”

“Good one, Max,” a scrawny Pyrotech said.

Connor rolled his eyes. Original. “Whatever. Let him go, man.”

Max smirked. “Us Guardians are the strongest and the fastest, but junk-genes are at the bottom, even lower than Animal Shifters.” Jerking the Ungifted boy along, Max took a step toward Connor. “Even lower than Guardian Police, here. Your parents gave you up to the system, right? That’s the only reason a Guardian would have to go see a counselor once a month. If he was a Mercy kid. How are those group meetings? Cry about how much your real parents didn’t want you? Are they both dead?”

“You’re going there?” The sidewalk vibrated and Connor forced out a breath. Keep it together. He’s not worth it.

Max laughed, but didn’t seem to notice the shake. “Gonna do something about it?” He shoved Connor with his free hand. “Mercy kid?”

Connor burst forward. The heel of one hand connected with Max’s jaw. A loud crack bounced off the walls of the Counseling Center and his victim dropped, scrambled to his feet, and fled. The Guardian stumbled backward and let out a grunt. Palms up, hands open Connor focused on Max.  

Regaining his balance, Max balled one hand into a fist and swung. Connor ducked and threw out a hand to block him. Max drove punches forward: right, left, right, left, duck, giving away every move with each rotation of his shoulders. Connor blocked his attacks with a simple defense. Sweat formed on Max’s red face and he charged.

At the last second, Connor twisted out of the way. Unable to stop his momentum, Max tumbled forward. His feet twisted together and he fell. When he landed, his arm wrenched at an odd angle and another crack snapped the air.

“My arm! My arm!” Max rolled to one side and clutched his misshapen wrist as color drained from his swollen face. “You broke it! You broke my arm!”

Hands itching, Connor dropped to his knees and touched the swelling limb. A warm golden, light extended from his fingertips to engulf the damaged limb, mending the shards of shattered bone, calming the swelling. Max's cries ebbed and color returned to his skin.

Connor swallowed and glanced up. No sign of drones. Well, that was a first. Couldn’t have happened at a better time. "Can you move it?" He asked, voice low. He couldn’t believe his own stupidity, shocked by his new gift. Four and counting.

Max nodded, flexed his wrist. "How...why?" His wide eyes moved to meet Connor’s.

The words tumbled out: "I had to," Connor said. Because it was broken.

A low hum sent a wave of hot terror up Connor’s back. “citizen, you are under arrest for suspicious gifting usage,” the drone said. “Please stand by for-”

Connor swung his backpack at the silver plated machine. It slammed into the concrete, a shattered, sparking mess. As it twitched, Connor turned and sprinted through the parking lot toward the woods.

***

Head ducked, Connor ran down the sidewalk, weaving between a small groups of Traffic-bots. Government Safety Monitors towered at various intervals along his path, like great eyes following him. A worker in a gray uniform wiped the black poles with a rag until they shone like the cylindrical video monitor at the top. He didn’t look up when Connor shot past.

Sun flashed between red and orange leaves so the patches of light on the ground glowed warm and bright. Overhead, birds chattered, the flick of rapid beating wings occasionally accompanying their conversation. Still no sound of drones. Maybe he’d gotten away from them, maybe he’d make it home before-

“Connor! What the hell, gringo? Wait up.”

Connor’s stomach clenched into a fist as Alex Kramer matched his pace. Impressive for a Telepath. Connor wheeled around in front of his friend to make him stop. “Don’t worry about it, man. It’s nothing...You’re late for school.”

Alex pulled off his TechSpecs and slid them into the front pocket of his coat. “Are you kidding, bro? How can I go back to school when my best friend, a freakin’ Guardian, just healed a broken arm? That’s not even possible, right?”

Mashing the heals of his hands into his eyes, Connor groaned. “I don’t have time to explain.”

He’d just turned to leave when a smell stung his nose. Acrid and sharp, the Werewolf’s scent warned Connor of attack only a second before it happened. Thick paws hammered into his shoulders and shoved him from the path into a tangle of bushes and vines. Thorns dug into Connor’s skin, his glasses went flying, and his head slammed against a tree root. Bursts of light exploded in Connor’s vision and the woods tumbled around him. Every thought switched to meaningless static, a blur of nonsense and nausea. Somewhere to his left, Alex shouted something, but it made no sense. Hopefully, he’d be smart enough to run. One scratch would turn Alex into one of The Turned, a mindless servant to this particular Werewolf.

As Connor rolled, claws dug into one of his forearms.