Might of will

The following morning, Om and Max arrived at the still-unfinished building. The structure was modest but well-planned, featuring a private space that Om had meticulously secured for his most confidential work. The garden on the eastern side added a sense of serenity to the otherwise industrial vibe of the building. Max assumed they were here to finalize some remaining tasks for the company, unaware of the events of the previous night.

Unbeknownst to Max, Om had successfully smuggled vibranium into this private workspace under the cover of darkness. He had hidden the rare and highly coveted material in a secure vault. Vibranium was no ordinary metal; its potential for technological advancement was unmatched, and Om intended to unlock every ounce of its power.

As Max busied himself with administrative tasks, Om retreated to his private lab. There, he began implementing the model he had planned for Specter 2. Inspired by the sleek, adaptive design of aircraft he had seen in his recent dreams along with a combination of vibranium's lightweight properties, advanced stealth cloaking, and energy-efficient propulsion systems. Om mimicked these techniques, using vibranium to create a drone that was swift, silent, and nearly undetectable.

He had spent months preparing for this moment, crafting miniature prototypes that served as proof of concept. Now, with vibranium at his disposal, Om set to work upgrading the Specter 2. He enhanced the frame with vibranium to maximize durability and reduce weight. To achieve stealth, he integrated a cloaking mechanism using vibranium's unique energy-absorption properties. For propulsion, he fused the drone's system with an arc-reactor-inspired design, ensuring a self-sustaining energy source that eliminated the need for frequent recharging.

The next four days were a blur. Om worked tirelessly, pushing the limits of his engineering prowess. Aether provided constant support, running simulations and optimizing designs. The first Specter 2 came to life with a gentle hum, lifting off the ground with effortless grace. Its sleek, vibranium-infused frame shimmered under the dim lab lights, a testament to Om's vision and determination.

But Om wasn't satisfied with just one drone. Using the automated algorithm he had designed, Om set up the production of two additional Specter 2 units. The process required precision and patience, but after two more days, the trio of Specter 2 drones stood ready. Each drone was a masterpiece—powerful, agile, and stealthy, capable of evading detection even in the most hostile environments.

Despite the success, Om's mind was already racing ahead. He knew that if he was to realize his ambitious plans, he would need more vibranium. Though it could be seen as greed, Om viewed it as a necessity. His vision for the future demanded resources that could not be acquired through conventional means.

Over the past week, Aether had kept a vigilant eye on the black-market networks. There had been signs of panic among those Om had previously targeted, but the use of drones had ensured his anonymity. Without any direct link to Om, the black-market dealers were left chasing shadows. Confident in his strategy and armed with his newly enhanced drones, Om prepared for another swift and precise operation to secure more vibranium.

This time, there would be no shifting or hiding—his Specter 2 drones, powered by the integration of arc-reactor technology and vibranium, were more than capable of handling any opposition. The operation was executed flawlessly, with the drones striking quickly and retreating before anyone could react.

With the additional vibranium secured, Om returned to his lab, where he began scaling up production. Over the next month, his team of automated drones expanded rapidly. By the end of 25 days, Om had produced 50 Specter 2 units, each more refined and efficient than the last.

Although Om returned home briefly to oversee other aspects of his life, he left Max in charge of the building to ensure production continued smoothly. Om had used a significant portion of his company's reserve funds, initially set aside for expansion, to finance the manufacturing of these drones. It was a risky move, but one Om deemed necessary for the future he envisioned.

By the end of the month, Om stood at the edge of his lab, gazing at the fleet of drones before him. They weren't just machines; they were the culmination of his intellect and ambition. The path ahead was fraught with danger, but with Specter 2 by his side, Om felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Om watched through the live feed of his drones as a fiery explosion lit up the Afghan desert. Among the scattered debris and fleeing militants, a lone figure emerged—a man in a crude, armored suit trudging through the sand, flames reflecting off the battered metal.

Om didn't need Aether's analysis to identify him: Tony Stark. The man who had inadvertently shaped Om's life by designing the very weapons that killed his mother.

Yet, the sight of Stark, struggling and vulnerable, was a stark contrast to the billionaire genius Om had aligned with. Moments later, the suit gave way, collapsing in the sand as a helicopter descended. Om's drones captured Stark being lifted out by none other than James Rhodes.

"Interesting," Om muttered. "all the details are same although they were earlier in the dream", Om spoke to himself.

Over the next few days, news of Stark's dramatic announcement to shut down the weapons division spread like wildfire. Om's resentment flared, fueled by memories of the blast that had taken his mother. But as he observed and as his instinct he found Stark's actions more similar to hero haloed his role model, an unsettling thought crept in—as expected, this wasn't the man who had caused his pain.

Om's dreams, hazy from weeks of sleepless nights working on his drones, began resurfacing. In them, he saw Stark—a man nearly dying, desperate yet determined. The pieces were blurry, like a half-forgotten memory, but they hinted at Stark's innocence.

Still, he needed proof.

Infiltrating Stark Industries

Om directed Aether to crack into Stark Industries' network. While his drones hovered undetected over the building, he combed through layers of encrypted data. Hours turned into days, but the deeper he delved, the murkier the waters became.

Finally, a lead: communications flagged as "sensitive" revealed shipments to black market dealers—dealers tied to the same terrorist cell that had Stark captive. Om's heart sank when he connected the dots.

Obadiah Stane.

The man's name surfaced repeatedly in covert emails, encrypted transaction records, and even audio snippets of conversations with the Ten Rings. One file confirmed it: the weapons shipment that killed Om's mother had been orchestrated under Stane's orders.

Om clenched his fists as the memories flooded back—the sight of his mother shielding him, the deafening blast, and the searing heat of the explosion. All of it came rushing back.

"Stane..." Om's voice was cold, a whisper of calculated rage. "You'll pay for this."

Despite his boiling anger, Om couldn't act on Stane yet—his position of power and constant security made him untouchable. Instead, Om focused his efforts elsewhere.

His drones captured footage of Stark returning to the desert—this time with high tech armor. But he wasn't alone. Om watched as Stark, with crude but determined precision, began dismantling the very weapons that bore his name.

A faint smirk crossed Om's face. "Maybe I can help you, Stark," he murmured.

Through carefully calculated strikes, Om deployed his Spectors to assist in destroying stockpiles of missiles and artillery from the shadows. Stark never saw the drones, but their work accelerated his mission. Together, albeit unknowingly, they reduced mountains of weapons to rubble.

Stark, oblivious to the invisible ally, seemed consumed by his task. For the first time, Om saw something he hadn't expected—remorse.

With the desert operation completed, Om turned his attention back to Stane. His drones shadowed the man's every move, capturing a clandestine meeting with the very terrorists who had kidnapped Stark.

Stane stood among the Ten Rings, barking orders about salvaging the remains of Stark's Mark 1 suit. Om observed in silence, his drones recording every word, every gesture.

"Hypocrite," Om murmured. "Dealing with terrorists to build your empire while parading as a corporate leader."

As much as Om wanted to act, he knew he couldn't strike just yet. Stane's connections and influence made him untouchable—at least for now. Om would need to be patient, gathering every ounce of evidence before making his move.

But even as he planned Stane's downfall, Om couldn't help but think about the stark in his dream.

"Maybe that dream will also come true," Om admitted to himself. "I will kill Stane if all events will occur as same in dream then before he dies he will be captured by me." As Om remembered the dream of stark fighting with obedia in big chunk of metals.