Five years had passed in the blink of an eye, and the world of a physicist had fully morphed into the brutal reality of a mobster's son. Antonio, now five years old with an adult's mind trapped in a child's body, had not only survived but thrived. He had long since pieced together the truth about his origins. The gunshots, the cold-eyed men, the name "Antonio"—it all clicked into a chillingly logical narrative. Capone Bege, a man who saw utility in everything, had murdered his parents and, for reasons Antonio couldn't yet fathom, had taken him in and declared him his heir. The irony was not lost on him; he was now the "son" of the man who had orphaned him. Yet, without any memories of his biological parents, there was no well of resentment to draw from, only a cold, detached curiosity.
He was a pawn in a game he didn't understand. The thought of Capone's future alliance with Big Mom and the birth of their own biological son, Pez, lingered in the back of his mind like a ticking clock. His standing in the family was temporary, a borrowed title. He knew it, and he accepted it. For now, he would use the time he had to become an asset, not a liability. Survival was his first priority, and in the West Blue, with the timeline racing toward the dawn of the Great Pirate Era, being strong was the only way to ensure it.
Life in the Capone Family was an education in itself. His formal schooling was a strange mix of traditional subjects and the brutal realities of the underworld. He was homeschooled by a series of private tutors who taught him mathematics, history, and literature, but his most important lessons came from the crew. His training began at the tender age of two, a bizarre combination of martial arts and physical conditioning that was a far cry from the life he once knew. He learned to punch and kick, to roll with a blow, and to harden his body. His mind, accustomed to complex calculations, found a strange new logic in the physics of combat. It took him a couple of years to get a proper handle on the movements, but his natural intelligence and relentless focus soon turned him into a competent, if small, fighter.
But it was in marksmanship that Antonio truly found his calling. The moment he first held a small-caliber pistol, something clicked. His mind, which had once calculated the trajectories of comets and the gravitational pull of black holes, was now perfectly suited for the physics of a bullet. The wind speed, the humidity, the subtle drop over distance—it was all a complex equation he could solve in his head.
One sunny afternoon, during a routine training session with Capone, Antonio shocked everyone. They were at a training ground behind the mansion, a wide, open field with targets set at various distances. Capone, in a rare moment of mentorship, was supervising Antonio as he practiced. Antonio raised his small pistol, his arms steady. He took a deep breath, his eyes narrowed, and he fired. The shot was a clean, sharp report that cut through the air. The bullet flew, a tiny blur, and slammed dead center into a target on a tree trunk 500 yards away.
A hush fell over the training field. The surrounding mobsters exchanged incredulous glances. A five-year-old with a pistol, hitting a mark that many seasoned shooters would struggle with using a rifle. Capone, who had been leaning against a crate with a cigar in his mouth, slowly straightened up. A wide, predatory grin spread across his face.
"A chip off the old block," he muttered, the pride in his voice as clear as day. "Looks like you've got a future, kid."
From that day on, Capone's approach to Antonio's training changed completely. He doubled down on his marksmanship, recognizing a rare talent. Antonio's martial arts training was relegated to maintenance, while his new focus became mastering the art of the sniper.
The Sniper's Apprenticeship
Antonio's training was brutal, disciplined, and rooted in the cold hard facts of reality. Capone had a designated crew member, a stoic and highly skilled sniper named Vito, take over his education. Vito's first lesson was not about firing, but about patience.
1. The Art of the Stillness: Vito would take Antonio to the roof of the mansion and have him lie motionless for hours. He taught him to control his breathing, to slow his heart rate, and to become one with his environment. Antonio learned to ignore the buzzing flies, the heat of the sun, and the ache in his muscles. Vito would drop a single marble on his back and he was not allowed to move a muscle. If the marble fell, he had to start all over again.
2. The Science of the Shot: Antonio's previous life as a physicist made him a natural. Vito was a master of the practical application, but Antonio understood the theory. They studied everything: the effect of humidity on bullet velocity, the subtle shifts of the wind, the bullet's drop over immense distances. He was taught to calculate trajectory in his head, factoring in every variable. Vito would set up a series of moving targets, and Antonio had to predict where they would be, not where they were, a fraction of a second later. He learned to create intricate charts for different guns and ammo, all based on the data he meticulously collected.
3. Camouflage and Infiltration: Capone wanted a ghost, not just a shooter. Antonio was trained to blend in with his surroundings. He was taught to use the natural landscape as his cover, to move silently through forests, and to hide in plain sight. He learned to use a scope, not just to aim, but to observe, to spot weaknesses, and to gather intelligence without ever being seen. Vito would drop him off in the middle of a forest and tell him to get to a specific point without being detected. If Vito saw him, he would have to do it all over again.
4. Weaponry and Maintenance: Antonio was given a variety of pistols and rifles to practice with. He learned to clean, assemble, and disassemble every weapon with his eyes closed. Vito taught him to be a perfectionist about his tools, ensuring that every piece of a weapon was in perfect working order. A single grain of dirt or a faulty spring could be the difference between life and death.
By the age of five, Antonio was more than a child; he was a silent, lethal prodigy. While other kids his age were learning to write their names, he was learning to kill. His mind, once so focused on the grandeur of the cosmos, was now hyper-focused on the minutiae of a single, devastating shot. The irony wasn't lost on him. He had sought the stars, but found his place in the darkness, a sniper waiting patiently in the shadows. He had a lot to learn, and he would use every lesson to survive the coming storm of the pirate era.