To make matters worse, although there was safety in the presence of armed soldiers, it brought along complications. Once ordinary aspects such as walking a pet or running instantly generated hoops and hurdles one needed to go through.
Something as simple as making a grocery run became a major ordeal, as you would need to pass multiple security checkpoints; hell, for someone like me, it brought flashbacks to those two years in lockdown during the early 2020s.
However, something good came out of all the chaos, and that was finally, after almost a decade, Brenden and I lived on the same block again.
Being the conspiracy theorist he was, Brenden quickly anticipated shit hitting the fan and set his plan in motion. The day after Arkadia Descended, my brother packed up his belongings, put his house on the market, and moved himself, his wife, three cats, and a German shepherd up to Georgia.
As luck would have it, there was a house two down from my own that was for sale, and by pulling some strings that I still don't understand, he had purchased the house and was all moved in within six days.
Funny enough, his wife, Emilia, a very headstrong and stubborn woman, didn't take much convincing, and after being reassured that her parents and siblings were soon to follow, she quickly bent to my brother's whims.
It's sad to say that it took the world changing drastically to have my brother close by finally, but my father and I were happy that he had chosen to do so.
It was primarily a happy occasion for my elderly father, who, after almost 30 years, finally had all four of his children living within an hour of each other.
Yep, you heard me right; Brenden isn't my only sibling; it's just that the other two, my Brother Riley and Sister Annie, were both significantly older than us.
The two were from my father's first marriage and, as a result, were almost 20 years older than Brenden and I.
It's just that Brenden and I were very close; we had gone through a miserable childhood together, one that was fraught with abuse, both mental and physical, partnered with a slew of other issues.
Still, that didn't mean that we weren't close…well, with my sister, at the very least. Hell, it was because of her and my two young nieces I even considered moving to Georgia in the first place.
My brother Riley, however, was a different case entirely. Setting aside the fact that he hates our father and views him as unredeemable, Riley was just a strange person all around.
He was the kind of guy who, if he didn't like someone, they didn't exist; he would completely ignore their existence, no matter what you did or said to try and change it, and somehow, I found myself in that category.
He would talk to Brenden and Annie frequently and even had a daughter who was close with everyone, but I was the black sheep, the untouchable and horrid existence that should never be brought up.
Eventually, Brenden got fed up with this and cut ties with Riley, leaving only Annie as Riley's contact with the family.
When the first "KEXP" posts began gaining traction, within minutes, Brenden and his wife were at my house, barricading up the windows, weapons ready and preparing for war.
And I don't use the term "Weapons" lightly, either. Because of Brenden's former military service and occupation as a Police officer, it isn't that far of a stretch to believe he practically owned an arsenal of different guns.
Carrying along several duffle bags, Brenden and Emilia came over with three AR-15 assault rifles, a collection of different handguns numbering well over twenty, and three shotguns. Pair it all with enough tactical body armor for all four of us: me, himself, Emilia, and our Father, and we were fully kitted out and ready for war.
Not to mention, both my Father and I owned large handguns ourselves in the form of 50 caliber Bock semi-autos. Numbers aside, there was also a decent amount of ammunition for each weapon; regardless, that was all we had in the way of "hot" weapons.
But hot weapons aside, that didn't mean we had no REAL, cold weapons. We also had three battle-ready, full tang katanas, half a dozen combat knives and baonettes, and a Viking-style hatchet, a Christmas gift from Brenden several years back.
What can I say? Owning a shit ton of weapons is the good ol American way. Unfortunately, or rather Fortunately, nothing happened, allowing us to unleash this arsenal on the world pre-Alpha, as it was later dubbed, and the worst we ended up dealing with was a couple of rowdy neighbors killing each other's pets.
For weeks, we went about life on edge because, unlike the so-called general populous, paranoia came naturally to our Jörgensen family. None of us would leave the house without a firearm, and after about a month of training, Emilia, the once pacifist of our little family, was trained enough to hold her own with soldiers having 1-2 years of experience.
It had to be said; setting aside Brenden and even my training, our Father was ex-army special operations. He had spent years in combat in the late 1960s and early 1970s and passed that training down to Brenden and me.
Now that push had come to shove, he imparted that knowledge, which took my brother and me years to learn, onto Emilia, turning her into a little fighter.
However, that wasn't all that changed; once her little boot camp ended, we were surprised to find out that her stats increased during the physical and mental training, which gave me crucial information.
It was possible to increase our stats with training. Some of you may be sitting there thinking, "Well, Duh, Taylor, have you not learned anything from Lightnovels, Webnovels, and anime?" And to that, I say FUCK YOU!
Arkadia was unlike any system I had ever read about, and thanks to the lack of available information or resources to gather such data, we were in the dark on basically everything, stumbling around like blind fools.