Everyone thought he was exaggerating. Sure, maybe things weren't completely dire, but that didn't mean that there wasn't any urgency to find more help with security. And really, more than anything else, Brandon was pissed that O'Brien had given them such little notice. And that he'd lost kind of a mentor. Kind of. But he'd never admit that. Let people think he was paranoid, that was fine.
Whatever the case was, there wasn't much that could be done about it now. So, rather than focus on the fact that it pissed him right the fuck off, he tried to move past it. Deal with it and move on. He'd just parted ways with Maddie, walking her to her door with the glow in the dark writer board he'd found her as well as the bottle of Jameson, and now it was time for his night patrol.
All was relatively seamless, until he found his way up into the guard tower three. As he stood, looking around for anything in the distance, he caught sight of a little movement right after the first line of smasher pits.
"The fuck?" he murmured, using his good arm to feel down at his right hip and make sure his sidearm was still there. It was, as always. "Who the shit's down there?" he asked no one in particular, since no one could hear him from up in the guard tower. Though he probably should have gotten Mike or Silas, ever the stubborn one, Brandon decided that he'd go check it out himself. Making sure he had his gate key in his pocket, he nodded, then started climbing down the ladder he'd put outside this guard tower for an easy exit.
He headed quietly to where he heard the noise from, using the arm still in the sling to flash the light in the direction of the entrance. "Who the fuck's there?" he called.