The hybrid ducked instinctively upon hearing the first gunshot come their way and was attempting to push off his cover with his good shoulder to help him up, but by the time he was ever getting off the ground and glancing over the cover the massive tiger came in to remove the ranger from the situation. It was inevitable to sustain a massive amount of pain from the gunshot would when he was being taken but all that came from the anthro were a few grunts and gulps as he tried to bear the pain. He could have fought, but given the circumstances it would have been suicide to challenge a massive opposition with just a revolver no matter how good of a shot he would be if he managed to break through the injury barrier and function like a combatant. He knew it, and that's why he didn't protest being taken away while the last two members of the group battled their way towards the safety. It would soon come and the fight would soon be behind them, but the threat was still there. 

Upon linking up with those who were heading to the surface, the hybrid finally found himself being set down, and once his feet touched the ground and he was free, he took a knee and slowly holstered the revolver, locking it in the chest holster with just a button and leather strap. He went straight to his bag with his only good arm, and he was shaking. He didn't know why tremors went down his spine, perhaps it was the adrenaline of combat, or maybe his injury taking a more significant toll, or even the fear of death being soo close. The ranger simply just didn't have an answer, but that didn't stop him from fishing out his medical kit and setting it on the floor, unzipping the red bag and revealing it's few contents: Three rolls of military field dressing, a stitching kit, an epinephrine vial with a packed up syringe taped to it, and even a few small military grade adrenaline shots, ones that seemed to be in individual cardboard boxes that were no smaller than a fun size candy bar. 

"I-Is your friend alright?" The anthro with the ranger tags asked, his voice trembling and his only good hand fumbling around with one of the bandage rolls. He brought it to his mouth and bit on the band that held the roll together before pinching the exposed end with his lips and unrolling the compact roll. It was evident why he was using one of his few bandages, the retreat and carrying made more blood circulate and now crimson red was starting to surface on the fabric, despite being rather faint.. Who knows how much longer the man would last before passing out from blood loss. Once he got a good amount unrolled, he paused and started pondering [i]How does one bandage himself with only one hand available?[/i]