Progress

Time in the military had its own rhythm—brutal, relentless, and purifying.

When John Wayne first stepped into the training grounds of the U.S. Army, most of the men around him didn't think much of the wiry, young kid with a calm stare and silent stride. He didn't speak unless spoken to. He followed orders, completed drills with perfect form, and always seemed to know what was coming next.

What none of them knew was that John wasn't fully in control.

His body moved, reacted, and executed under the guidance of Great Sage, the AI-like skill wired into his soul. While John's conscious mind often drifted elsewhere—planning research, engineering ideas, thinking decades ahead—his body was sharpening itself. Reflexes were honed, strength built, and martial skills practiced until his bones ached and muscles burned.

But even Great Sage couldn't cheat the process of muscle growth. After months of sweat, pain, and repetition, John began to transform. His once-thin frame hardened. His hands, once those of a boy scientist, grew calloused and firm. He could shoot, fight, move, and kill if needed.

By the end of the first year, he had mastered multiple forms of close-quarters combat, advanced gun-handling, and survival tactics that rivaled even seasoned operatives.

It was during one of these live-fire training exercises that he caught the eye of Colonel Sanders, a seasoned instructor with 25 years under his belt.

"This kid's not normal," Sanders muttered to General Marcus Bennett as he handed over John's test scores and training footage. "He fights like he's had a decade of black ops under his belt. His eyes don't even blink when the shots go off."

General Bennett watched the footage and nodded slowly.

"I've been watching him since he was ten," he said. "This kid… he's not just a brain. He's a storm brewing."

He paused, eyes narrowing.

"Send him to the SPF camp. Let's see if he can run with the real wolves."

At the Special Purpose Forces facility, things shifted. These weren't standard soldiers anymore. These were the elite. And while most raised eyebrows at the fourteen-year-old walking into their camp, none of them mocked him.

Because John didn't come to prove anything—he came to learn.

It was here that he met Chris Kyle, the sniper legend himself. Chris had recently been reassigned to train with a joint tactical unit and was halfway through cleaning his rifle when John walked into the briefing room.

"You lost, kid?" Chris grunted, not looking up.

"No, sir," John said evenly. "I'm here for the advanced recon training module."

Chris looked up then. His eyes squinted. "How old are you?"

"Fourteen."

Chris gave a low whistle and laughed. "Well, hell. Either someone up top's got a sense of humor or you're the real deal."

Over the next few weeks, the two bonded over shooting drills and tactical theory. Chris admired the kid's mind. John, in turn, respected Chris's deadly precision and humility.

"You ever fire a .338 Lapua?" Chris asked one afternoon.

"Not yet."

"Let's fix that."

They spent hours on the range, and while John couldn't outshoot Chris, he came shockingly close for someone his age.

Before long, Chris was deployed. Before leaving, he clapped John on the shoulder.

"Don't die, genius," he said. "World might actually need you."

John nodded. "And don't miss, legend."

Another year passed.

John continued his training, now shifting between different military units. He trained with SEALs, Green Berets, and foreign elite teams through joint operations programs.

During this time, John crossed paths with several familiar faces from his past life—faces he only knew from war movies.

There was Tyler Rake from Extraction, who took one look at John during a sparring drill and muttered, "The hell kind of twelve-year-old knows Krav Maga?"

"I'm fourteen," John corrected calmly.

"Even worse."

Then came Andrew Briggman from The Kill Team, who was quieter than most but shared stories with John over fire watch.

"You ever kill anyone?" Andrew asked one night.

"No," John said.

"Good. Keep it that way as long as you can."

From Above the Head, Captain Bishop offered him pointers on urban warfare and CQB tactics.

"You learn fast," Bishop told him. "Too fast. You remind me of someone who forgot how to be afraid."

"Fear is useful," John replied. "But I've optimized it."

That earned him a laugh.

By now, rumors had started spreading. Some believed John was the secret son of a general. Others thought he was a government experiment.

No one asked directly. Everyone respected results—and John delivered.

While John grew as a warrior, Wayne Industries exploded behind the scenes.

With Jennifer Lewis managing operations, the company launched breakthrough after breakthrough.

John's new missile defense system, capable of intercepting hypersonic threats with AI-calculated countermeasures, was sold to the Pentagon for $4.8 billion.

He designed a new handgun, light, deadly, and dirt-cheap to manufacture. Military officials nicknamed it "The AK-47 of pistols."

Its blueprints were sold to NATO-aligned countries for $2 billion in total contracts.

Most groundbreaking of all was his "Shadow Path" algorithm, a tool that used synchronized CCTV timestamps and cross-platform footage to reconstruct a suspect's movement patterns across cities—effectively turning any major urban space into a real-time surveillance grid.

The FBI and Homeland Security were first to bid. The Department of Defense closed the deal with a $7.2 billion offer, exclusive rights included.

In just two years, John Wayne, still just a teenager, became the youngest billionaire in American history. And no one knew.

Every government contract was signed with executive anonymity. Jennifer Lewis' name appeared on the records. John's identity remained buried beneath layers of NDAs and federal protection.

Back at the training compound, General Bennett stood by the observation platform as John dismantled and rebuilt an M4 rifle while blindfolded.

"He's not even sweating," a colonel muttered.

"No, he wouldn't," Bennett replied.

After the session, Bennett called John into the briefing room.

"You've completed more specialized training than most of my officers do in ten years."

"I'm still learning," John replied, ever calm.

Bennett chuckled. "That's what scares me."

He poured a drink but didn't sip it. "You know, John… I never had a son. But if I did—I'd want him to be like you."

John looked down for a moment, a rare flicker of emotion on his face. "Thank you, sir."

"But you've got to understand something," Bennett continued. "There's a line. Between invention and destruction. Between soldier and killer."

John's eyes met his. "I don't cross lines. I redraw them."

That gave the general pause. Then he smiled.

"Spoken like a man who already knows where he's going."

John's Skills Gained Over Two Years (via Great Sage):

Advanced CQC Mastery (System-Integrated)

All Firearms Proficiency (Pistols, Rifles, Heavy Weapons)

Tactical Awareness Boost

Night Combat and Stealth Movement

Explosives and Ordnance Handling

Vehicle Operation (Tactical/Armored)

Combat Survival & Wilderness Adaptation

Two years. Two worlds.

One as a teenage CEO reshaping global security from a secret lab.

The other as a shadow operative in training, earning the respect of the world's deadliest men.

John Wayne was no longer just a genius.

He was becoming something else entirely.

An idea in motion.

A weapon with a conscience.

A storm… with a mind.