Spike_x1 said:
Peter Silverstone gave everyone the day off, with the exception of the security staff and a few key technicians. With the rock missing, there was simply nothing for most of his employees to do, so he wanted them to enjoy what would probably be their last days on United Broadcasting's payroll. Peter even suggested using the day to clean out their desks and start handing out resumes.
When he got back home, David was still at school for the day, and Delilah was watching her soap operas. She had tried to welcome him home with comfort, knowing that things were getting rougher and rougher at the office, but Peter brushed her off, telling her that he needed to be alone. He made his way into his study, locked the door, and turned on the small television set for background noise. A sigh of both relief and worry came in the same breath as Peter opened his small office safe and pulled out the black rock. The way that the stone seemed to take in the light around it never ceased to be pleasantly hypnotic and soothing for him. Nevertheless, Peter knew that stealing the rock and erasing the security video was wrong, but he just felt that the rock rightfully belonged to him. He knew that he could put it to better use than simply redirecting radio waves, air waves, and God knows whatever else the company would use it for. The rock had a much greater purpose than that, and Peter Silverstone was the one meant to put it to proper use.
But how?
That was when Peter noticed, out of the corner of his eye, a snippet of news footage pertaining to the so called 'Superman' from a while back, when he fought an armored assailant on Lex Luthor's yacht and the nearby docks. The words being spoken by the reporter on the television were drowned out from Peter's perspective as he realized how he should use the stone.
I can fly.
That was the only thought going through Doctor Peter Silverstone's brain as he felt the winds whip past him at incredible speeds. The feeling of controlling the rock was impossible to put into words. Peter could feel the chilling cold of the winds at this high altitude, but they weren't freezing him in the least. He could somehow
feel the pulse of nearly every media signal in the world. The stone was embracing him; its power coursing through his veins and enveloping his body, protecting him from the possible harm caused by traveling at this speed, and allowing him to violate the very laws of physics and gravity. The entire feeling was unbelievable and indescribable, to say the least.
And then he heard it. Not with his ears, but with some new sense that he'd acquired. He could hear the panicked screams in his head, shouting
"Mayday! Control tower, we've lost engine 2, and are coming in hot!"
This was it. Silverstone wanted to be like Superman? Well, now was his chance! A sonic boom resounded in his wake as he flew at blinding speeds towards the source of the radio signal that he was sensing. He could see it in the distance: An experimental atmospheric landing and takeoff space plane. Peter could hear the hardware specifications and digital blueprints of the aircraft being constantly broadcast on a secure channel, to and from NASA, and thus knew what the nature of the problem was and how and where to stop it without causing any more damage.
"Oh, this is just too much," he said to himself as he caught up to the space plane. He dove underneath the right wing and centered himself beneath the plummeting aircraft. Silverstone dug his fingers into the hull, pushing upward and pulling back, trying to slow the massive hunk of metal down and decrease the dangerously sharp angle of descent. What surprised him the most was not that he was capable of doing these feats, but how easily he was accomplishing them. The ship's outside surface was roughly the size of two football fields, but it took only a small amount of exertion to bring it safely down onto a Metropolis runway.
The reporters and emergency personnel were already waiting for them on the tarmac as the crew of the space plane orderly made their relieved exit as they had been trained to do in situations such as this. The camera flashes were nonstop as Peter floated above the crowd, quietly overseeing the evacuation of the downed plane. The photographers seemed to be especially, and understandably, fascinated by Silverstone's green and purple costume. The questions were shot at him on a rapid-fire basis as well:
"Who are you?"
"Are you affiliated with Superman?"
"
Are you Superman?"
Peter merely smiled and gave a small wave to the crowd. Finally, the last of the crew came to the shuttle's door, and stopped, looking up at his rescuer. Peter could tell by the man's uniform that he was the captain of the space plane, and so he gently levitated towards him.
"Nice flying brick you've got here, Captain...?"
The man chuckled a bit nervously and scratched his head.
"Henshaw. Captain Hank Henshaw. Heh, yeah, we've still got a few bugs to work out with 'er." He extended his hand to Peter.
"We owe you our lives, friend. I'm going to sound like a real woman here, but you're my hero. We can't thank you enough."
Peter laughed lightly and shrugged, while shaking Hank's hand.
"You know that whole superhero thing. All in a day's work." With that, he turned in midair and began to fly away before hearing Hank ask one more thing.
"I think these ladies and gentlemen here would like to know a little something more about you," said Henshaw, gesturing towards the crowd of reporters.
"For starters, what are we supposed to call you?"
Peter paused and thought for a moment before it occurred to him. The source of his power that was incorporated into his suit; a trick variation on his own real name - Perfect.
"You can call me Blackrock."
