The Tale of 230

Once there was a little boy. He was the oldest of two siblings. Their parents weren't around that often, so he had to take care of his younger brother, as well as him self. He taught his brother anything he could. How to read, how to cook, things like that. His younger brother excelled a lot of the time. Sometimes that made him jealous, he felt like his younger brother was better than him. At school, his friends got him to try a game. When he went home, his younger brother and him found and played this game together. He didn't feel jealous or angry at his brother while they played this game – they played very differently than one another. His younger brother moved much closer to the objective, taking situations more directly, while he stayed back. He wanted to watch his brother, make sure nothing could get to him, take care of problems that his younger brother didn't see coming. They became an excellent team. In this game, life was perfect. They both became obsessed with it. They studied it, they explored it, they got all the sequels.

They both got older. They both grew closer to each other. They were best friends. One day, though, the younger brother declared that he wanted to go away. This hurt the older boy in a way he couldn't explain properly. It hurt their mother, as well. She cried a lot. The younger boy decided not to go, in the end. This made the older boy angry. The younger boy was supposed to be able to handle himself in direct situations. So instead of providing cover fire, instead of watching his younger brother's back, he stepped forward. He declared that he was going away, instead. It was shocking to everyone, and their mother hurt a lot. But he couldn't back down, and feel ashamed of himself for being hypocritical, so he went forward with it. And once he left, he was happy. It got easier.

But it was lonely. He no longer had someone to cover. He was his own back up, and it was scary. But life moved on. He dove himself into their game even more than ever. He started reading books, and magazines, and doing internet research. He wanted to be the man from the game. The fearless, powerful man, who could handle situations whether he had back up or not. The man who could charge in, or stay back if he needed to. So the boy started, in private, trying to make himself into that man, or a real-life version of that man. At first, he wanted to be a soldier, but he didn't want to risk his life. He was scared of dying. So he wanted money, to take care of people, and put away bad guys. But this would be a lot of work, and he wasn't sure he wanted to do it. So he decided to be a police officer. A man who could wield a gun, wear armor, but not be as at risk as a soldier. A man who would put bad guys where they deserved to be. He gave himself a name, a name only he called himself. A name he didn't tell anyone else, because he had been ridiculed for so long for being so into video games. His dream to be the man from the game was important to him, but nobody needed to know. He called himself 230.

230 went into hardship. Money became hard to come by, and every year, he came under more and more stress. By the time he was 18, he needed a job, or to be homeless. He still spoke to his family, though not very often. Both out of laziness, and being too busy. But one person he still spoke to on a semi-regular basis, one person he still made sure he could cover, and the one person who would cover him, was his brother. He had more, at this point. He had more siblings, but none were ever as close. None shared the bond they had developed. They shared excitement with each other's news. They could tell each other anything, even things they couldn't tell anyone else. But 230, growing into hardship more and more, didn't tell his brother everything. 230 became more and more reclusive about information as time went on.

But he was always thinking. Always planning. Trying to solve his problems. He had allies. He had three close friends, including his brother. And invariably, two of those three would be involved in anything he had going on, so he could have more than one mind at work, and so that his stress levels could be reduced. He had reached a point in his life where he wasn't certain he could escape a tragic fate. He was always concerned about food, even though there was plenty. He stock-piled ramen noodles, and ate one square meal a day. He knew it wasn't healthy, but unless he found a way to improve his financial situation beyond his current minimum wage, he didn't see his life improving.

He broke down. 230 cried and messaged one person he didn't usually go to. A relative that was far away – from anyone. He explained his situation, how he felt. He explained what he wanted to do, and she spoke to him. She spoke for an hour and a half. By the time her hour and a half had gone by, it was late at night for 230. But he knew what he wanted to do. He just needed to talk to more people. He needed to do more research.

He was scared. He didn't know how to tell anyone, and he wasn't sure how to time it. The night he called her, he was completely alone. He left after her call. He put on clothes and left the house. He went on a walk. He didn't return home until nearly morning, to find the house was still empty. Nobody had noticed him go, nobody would notice him come. He told two people in his squad. His best friend and his girlfriend. He was going to keep it a secret until he had it all figured out in his head. Until his decision was final. He was going to join the military. He was going to make himself into the Spartan he needed to be.