<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/SD4m7CZ.png?1)<br/>Stonewall | Jackson Stewart (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=298984.msg14626760#msg14626760)</div>Jackson chides herself for a moment.  Assuming it's a surveillance or test craft from Luke (or as far as Holloman, at the rate it was traveling), she's just sending a cheeky message to some airman.  They'll raise the blip to their superiors and generate some chatter, and then they'll match the GPS with her cleared test range and get a good laugh about it.  But it's a stupid move... she could end up on the internet in some obscure forum or something.  Is a little break in the monotony worth that kind of risk?<br/><br/>And what if it's what she suspects-- a super-- and she's setting herself up for a less-than-friendly meeting?  What if she's successful and draws the attention of<em>not</em>a registered Power,<em>not</em>someone who would stop by if they have the free time just to say 'hello'... but an unregistered meta-human scouting for scrap, looking for an easy target, or just flat-out crazy..?<br/><br/>The shape breaks back across the horizon, and she manages to pick it up with her free-eye, then focus through the scope to sight it.  She keeps the energy weapon at rest, but her armored glove clicks softly as she resettles upon the grip. The bogey's control is phenomenal as it pivots to an approach pattern, and she begins to pick out details.  "It's a super alright," she says softly to herself, thinking aloud.  She calculates... "And he's approaching, coming in hot-- no, slowing... damn, he can fly..."  Jax blinks, calculations correcting.  "<i>She</i>can fly... oh.  Oh my."  She gently shifts her hips a bit, lowers the reticle, then snaps it back to place.  "<i>Definitely</i>she..."<br/><br/>Soon, the young woman's features are close enough that she can put the scope away.  She clears her throat, and with her free hand smooths her free hand through her hair, sweeping the hat from her head, and stares in open-mouthed disbelief for just a moment as she introduces herself.  The nanites in her nervous system are flickering giddily at the sudden surge of nerve activity-- first, her excitement at the UFO, and now at an unanticipated rush of chemicals and neuron flashes that fire all-too-rarely.  Their synaptic feedback amplifies the internal reactions, of course... the unfortunate side effect being to pronounce the reactions in an amplified fashion.  The effect is more than a little distracting.<br/><br/>She smiles, raising her bare hand in greetings.  "Hello there," she says, her crisp Scottish accent filling the air between them as she takes a couple steps closer.  She may be dressed drably, but her movements are sleek and graceful as she approaches the lovely woman.  The shy wave causes her to grin a little wider as she offers her hand in greeting-- at first juggling the blaster a bit awkwardly, and causing her to emit a shy "oops" first, then her free hand instead.  "I'm Jackson Stewart.  Welcome to my ho-- ah, test range.  I don't live<em>here</em>exactly, just nearby.  But you're welcome here.  You look harmless except the whole flying thing, which was very impressive, but I'm sure it's not all you can do, but it was by far one of<i>the</i>most amazing things I've seen, I mean you are remarkable-- I mean look at you, I estimated eleven Gs on that last turn and you weren't even affected, you look positively radiant.  Is it your physiology that helps you endure that kind of thing, and do you train for this, because you're obviously in fantastic condition and my god just<i>look</i>at you, but--"<br/><br/>Her jaw snaps shut, and her expression looks a bit embarrassed.  "Goodness.  I'm sorry, I tend to go on when I'm excited.  And you're very exciting.  Intellectually.  A curiosity.  I mean, I'm curious.  Not... like that, I mean.  I'm no longer curious that way, I'm simply intellectually curious.  I'm fully eager in other ways.  Let's just call it eagerness.  Ha--"  She swallows.  "Sorry, I'm doing it again."<br/><br/>Resettling herself, she shrugs and gestures about shyly with the alien-looking device in her hand.  Bob Marley's song continues to play on, mellow reggae-rock trickling out into the desert.  "Would you, ah, like something to drink?  I've some water here, and plenty of other things back at the shop..?"