The rather explosive light show still hadn't let up, and it had slowly become entertaining for Ryker to watch as droves of Darklings charged at the Refuge, only to be evaporated by the raining artillery. One particular high flyer made him chuckle quite heartily, before the more aggressive pounding at the door caused him to fall silent once more. He enjoyed his rest, but the Darklings and the slowly bleeding cuts on his leg couldn't go untreated for long. Trying to stitch wounds on the back of his leg wasn't exactly an easy feat to attempt, so self-treatment was out of the question. He flicked his right index finger, and the short need quickly emerged from inside his finger. He lowered his hand down to his thigh, and punctured his skin, feeling half the dose of morphine escape his finger, and Ryker gave a shuttering exhale as a slight warmth spread across his body, and everything felt way better. The cuts on his legs stopped hurting, his shoulder's stopped aching, everything felt nice. And that was a merely a half dose. He knew that they gave him that arm so he could help others and save lives, but he wouldn't be surprised if he ended up using all the morphine on himself. His light bulb turned on again. 

With a flick of his right ring finger, a small dispenser emerged. It was a medical jelly dispenser. They hadn't given him any extra tubes, so he'd have to use it sparingly, but his legs were good enough reason to use it. He reached down and slowly pulled a thin stripe of jelly over his two cuts, stopping the bleeding, and it would've cut the pain too if he hadn't already used some morphine. That would speed up the healing, at least. Another explosion shook the building, and the scratching and clawing at the door came back into his consciousness. It was weaker, although. He turned away from the window, as the scratching disappeared, hearing some thumping and squealing. He raised his rifle up, pointed at the door. The door broke away from it's hinges, and Ryker could feel his trigger finger twitch, a hair away from discharging a round. It was a woman who knocked down the door. 

[i]Wow. It's been a while since I've seen a woman.[/i]

He stopped checking out the woman's figure to make sure he wasn't about to fall victim to some sort of raider or black widow. Two darkling corpses slid off of her shoulder and plopped with an audible [i]thud[/i]. He walked over to Ryker, not seeming to pay attention to him. His trigger finger stiffened, but before he could fire, she pulled out a pair of binoculars, and began to survey the Refuge, just as he had before. Being closer gave Ryker a better chance to examine the woman. After the usual, through examination of what her body and figure had to offer, his eyes finally came up to her neck, examining the large tattoo on it. S'torei markings.

[i]"Tribals are all weapons free if provoked."[/i]

Mia's words, filled with ambiguous threat, echoed in his head. He [i]could[/i] shoot this woman if he wanted to. Nothing bad would befall him. All it took was a few squeezes... He threw the thought out of his head quickly, but it still lingered. Tribals were weapon-free for a reason, they weren't to be trusted. And Ryker didn't care for them much himself either. Nonetheless, the woman had just eliminated a pain in Ryker's ass, so she was helpful for the moment.

[i]Good looking for a Tribal woman. Best ass I've seen on one yet.[/i]

He smirked to himself as she turned around, his eyes falling to examine he walking in finer detail. He remembered he had been pointing his rifle around the whole time, and finally let his arm relax, the barrel of Isabella pointing towards the ground. The woman went over to her kills, and brandished a knife, beginning to slice into the animal, flaying the skin off of it. 

[i]A hunter? Here? Weird place to get food for your family. if you even manage to make it back.[/i]

Ryker took a short breath, and started to speak, but almost as if she knew he was going to talk, the woman cut him off.

[b]"Leaving would be wise. More darklings will arrive and I doubt I’ll be around to save you this time.”[/b] She said, in a quiet, heavily accented voice.

Tribals didn't have that sort of accent. That was Russian. Almost to confirm his new suspicion, it had registered that Ryker had seen the woman tuck her binoculars in a pack marked with the SRF logo. Another piece to the crudely made puzzle that he was trying to piece together. The SRF and Tribals hadn't had the best of relations lately, so the mixture of the two in one woman was puzzling. He knew now that she as Russian, and had ties to the SRF, but what were her connections to the S'Torei?

It didn't matter. She interrupted his thoughts with an accented [b]"Here."[/b] and tossed a can at him. He caught it with his left hand, an audible [i]Pang![/i] as the metals made contact. It was a can of scent-killer, used to get around animals without being smelled out. [b]“Use before you go to refuge, I only assume that is your destination but that can helps, sometimes.”[/b] 

Ryker looked down at the can, a look on his face, He sprayed a generous amount on himself, and tossed it back to the Russian. The smell was rather unpleasant.

"Thanks for the save. Name's Ryker. Yours?"