Brant set to work doing his best to fix his mistake. He had years of experience taking apart systems that had been long since destroyed to find files, like searching the ruins of a bombed out city for the few survivors. And as such he knew the the best and worst ways to destroy files. Simply hitting delete wasn't anywhere near good enough. If that was all he had done he would already have the files up and running. A few seconds of downtime at most. He had taken no precaution whatsoever. He hadn't wanted anything to be connected to him at all. It didn't matter if the NSA were brought in, there was now nothing inside those computers. Other sections of his network were also likely to be affected. Among these was the radio scanner. As such it was only able to scan for basic, publicly available frequencies, it was like only looking through the open streets of a city, ignoring the closed doors of buildings. And Brant hated it. Being so used to essentially having very few options closed to him, all of a sudden he felt deaf, blind and mute, something that scared Brant. Not a fighter, not a marksman, and without technology he made a virtually useless scout. In most low end criminal gangs he would have died almost as soon as he had joined. A skilled electrician, mechanic and hacker, the only gangs that wanted him either didn't fully understand just what he did, and as a result often set him impossible tasks, or understood his skills too well, never letting him enjoy the freedom that he could usually afford.
He had left the Premo's for this exact reason. Far too many jobs where he had been asked to hack into government databases so secure that he doubted even the creators knew how to properly access them, or where he would be asked to sit in a dark, dank room, with nothing but a mountain of servers at his disposal and the most boring tasks he could ever imagine set before him. He didn't hate his role, quite the opposite, he often relished in it, often attempting to time events so perfectly that he could have left security camera's activated and there wouldn't have been any form of evidence. Or the joy he still had to this day of hearing a super-charged car he had just spent days on fine tuning barrel down a highway with multiple rapid response teams chasing after them, though it had been years since he'd been on a job as a mechanic. But every now and then he found himself longing for the roles and skills others had. Sitting in a chair could bore him to death when he did it for hours on end, watching security cameras for threats as others worked their way through a building, dispatching anyone and everyone they saw.
Such skills would have been useful just recently to say the least. A single deadbeat carjacker had taken him at a guess fifteen minutes to finally knock him out, at the cost of some new bruises. Gannon or Momoka would have taken seconds, if that. It worried Brant that should he ever be placed in a properly dangerous situation, not just a gun fight between a few people, he was virtually useless. He could fire a gun, but not accurately, much in the same way that he could brawl, but not in a way that most anyone would every really be harmed. He had few doubts in his head that should a massive firefight start out, he would be dead very soon.
His thoughts were interrupted when a very loud crack broke the silence filled only by the quiet idling of his laptop. Getting up and out of Gannon's car, Brant began to look around for what the noise could have been, and as he turned to look he saw out of the corner of his eye, Tod falling into Gannon. It took him a second to fully register what had just happened, but once it had he began sprinting towards them. However before he had even thought about his decision, been given the chance to pull a weapon or duck for cover, the surrounding air became a cacophony of machine guns, assault rifles, hand guns, and rounds hitting the floor. Fortunately for Brant, they appeared to be aiming for Gannon and the couriers, so he was able to quickly stop mid sprint and reverse his direct to the car before they were able to notice him and get a proper fix on his position. Diving into the still open rear car door, he spun in his new position of lying across the back seat and slammed the door shut. He then readjusted himself and opened up the glove box, throwing aside the useless crap the Gannon had stored there, finding a small red button towards the back, with large white letters reading "PANIC". He hit it, moving back to his original position in the back seat. Thankful for once that Gannon had understood he was a mechanic, and had him install a panic button for his car, since it was likely going to save his life, which at the cost of going around to Tommies once every few weeks to fix his car, was more than worth it. Steel shutters began drawing down across the car windows, and the back seats lowered forward, as Brant raised himself so that they could properly close on the lower seat. Reaching inside the boot, there was a multitude of weapons, ranging from rifles to shotguns and pistols, as well as ammo boxes on either side of the boot. Gannon liked to be prepared, apparently.
Grabbing a nearby Assault Rifle, he grabbed some ammo and loaded the gun, checking that the safety was off, he opened the door closed to where he guessed Gannon and Momoka would be and slid out, hiding behind the side of the car boot, across from where the majority of shooters seemed to be, safe from rounds behind the cars armor plated exterior. He popped up and let off a few rounds at the attackers, though he didn't think he actually hit anyone.
"GANNON!" He shouted, dropping back down. Suddenly, he remembered the clappers he still had in each pant leg pocket, and he doubled checked that they were still there, relived to find that they had barely moved from the position he'd left them in.
"CLAPPERS!?" he yelled, temporarily placing his gun on the ground and making wild and obvious clapping gestures, hoping that Gannon would remember the few times Brant had explained and demonstrated them to him.