"If that's Brenden, you know he will continue calling you until you answer," It only took the elderly man a fraction of a second to realize the cause of my reaction, and while chuckling to himself, my father got up and went to the kitchen to fix himself a snack.
Unlike the two of us, who lived in a relatively safe area, free from the natural disasters on the news, my younger Brother, Brenden (34 years old), still lived in Orlando, Florida, where we were born and raised.
And since tropical storms were bombarding the entire state of Florida, knocking out all the cellphone towers, he could only call me on D*****d, a social media app, meaning that not only was my phone freaking out, but so was my smartwatch, and from the living room I could hear the app on my computer and tablet ringing in my Office as well.
"Stupid Taylor, linking up all your goddamn devices; I have no way to avoid this either because I know that the moment I don't answer, he will either spam me a certain embarrassing picture from our older sister's second wedding when I was 14 years old, or he will call Dad."
With a groan, I got up off the couch on shakey legs, considering my left knee was completely shot and showed the signs of both aging and physical injuries and shuffled to my Office.
Breaching the doorway to the former guest bedroom turned Office, my eyes ignored the multiple bookshelves filled with G****m model kits and focused on the four-monitor display of my expensive Streaming rig.
On the left wing monitor, which was positioned as a verticle display, I could see my d*****d app flashing with my Brother's username, causing me to emit an audible sigh as I took my place in the center of the U-shaped desk arrangement. *an L-shape desk with another regular desk attached, forming a U with a chair in the center.*
Easing my ever-constant sore body down into my Ass***ins Cre**d limited edition gaming chair, I sighed once again before reaching over to my headset and putting it on before answering the call.
"FUCK YOU DICKHEAD!" The moment I did, a stupid grin crept onto my lips as my Brother's arrogant voice came through the speakers with his usual greeting.
"NO FUCK YOU!" AS weird and immature as it may seem to other people, that was our usual greeting. And it didn't apply to calls either; we had no problem doing it in person, much to the annoyance of my Sister-in-law.
"So, how bad are your stats," And just like that, as if we hadn't been swearing at each other mere seconds ago, Brenden jumped feet-first into the conversation.
"Really, no, 'Hey Taylor, how's your day been? Did Dad freak out When the ALIEN ANIME SYSTEM INVADED OUR BODIES?' just straight to business." Shaking my head and leaning back in my chair, I couldn't wipe the bitter smile off my face.
"Ah, it's that bad. Well, can't say I didn't expect it, considering the fact that you are practically a cripple. Between that and the raging autism, I figured you'd have come out with something cool." Taking a breath to separate his statement, I knew exactly what he would say next.
"Then again, you did already have retard strength beforehand, so maybe it got more powerful." Propping my chin on my hands, I leaned forward and rolled my eyes after confirming I was correct in predicting his train of thought.
I knew him so well that I could even imagine my younger Brother nodding his head with every venomous word. When he finally finished, I knew it was my time to attack.
"Fuck you, listen, not all of us can bench 350 lbs, run 20 miles like it's nothing, and have like 1% body fat, so again, I say FUCK, YOU SIR!"
Unfortunately, he was entirely unphased by my verbal assault and instead went with the shameless route.
"Heh, got me there. I am a physical specimen, and my Stats are simply a visual representation of my greatness." Having heard those words a million times, I was used to it and the subsequent action that followed.
Half a second later, my phone, watch, and tablet dinged as he texted me a picture of him flexing to show off his biceps; however, I only glanced at the notifications before ignoring them.
"Anyway, Enough of that; spit out your damn stats so we can delve into conspiracy theories about this Arkadia System; you interrupted my research." Retorting with a tinge of tiredness in my voice, I brought up my own panel, and for the next couple of minutes, we exchanged information.
We did this by typing up everything on our Status Panel and messaging each other through the app.
[Status]
{Brenden Gideon Jörgensen}
{Particle Grade: None} "Currently Assimilating Alpha Particles"
{Race: Basic Human}
{Race Rank: First Classification}
{Talent: Super-Physical Prowess}
{Talent Rank: None}
{Talent Potential Grade: Zeta}
[Statistics]
{Level:0}
{Level Progress: 0%}
{Talent Growth Rate: 0%)
{*** Particle Count: 0}
{Physical Offense: 1.9}
{Physical Defense: 1.9}
{Intellect: 0.9}
{Meta Physical Offense: 0.01}
{Meta Physical Defense: 0.01}
{Stat Points: 0}
Much to my dismay, Brenden had actually gotten a pretty good yet basic talent, Super-Physical Prowess; however, his talent potential was astronomical compared to mine. Unlike my measly 'Beta' Potential, Brenden's was several ranks above mine, sitting at Zeta.
Although he couldn't feel any changes in his body, rendering him unable to find out what exactly was enhanced by his Talent, my younger Brother cackled loudly when he read through my Potential Rank before eventually finding his way down to my stats.
"HAHA, Sub-One is bad enough, but 0.1 POINTS IN DEFENSE, Jesus, a gust of wind could break you!" His boisterous laughter filled my ears, making them ring and pushing me to snap back.
"Says the big dumb, 0.9 Intellect; I knew you couldn't find your way out of a paper bag, but holy shit, you're fucking stupid! It's like the universe is acknowledging the fact that you're a big dumbass meathead." With a snort, the conversation quickly devolved into witty banter between the two of us, filled with swears and backhanded comments, before finally getting back on topic.