From high atop a shelf in the NoA executive offices, Chibi robo had silently watched the bloodbath. Again, his dark, unblinking eyes belied his true feelings. Without a word, he rose and leapt from the shelf. He fell, air whizzing by and ground rapidly approaching, gyro sensors spinning wildly. He hit the ground with a crunch, squarely on his left arm. From the sound, it was clear that the arm was damaged likely beyond repair, and a quick visual inspection confirmed. It was mangled, twisted and bent in an unnatural direction. Chibi regarded it coldly for a moment, as something other than a part of himself, then without hesitation reached over with his right claw and ripped his left arm clean off in a shower of sparks and oil.
Telly, watching from a distance in absolute shock, began moving toward Chibi but reconsidered and fluttered into the shadows. Chibi dropped his severed left arm, put on his Drake Redclaw costume, the helmet which now had a cracked visor, and cauterized the damage with a shot from his blaster. With a festive chime, his head-lid popped open and out came his pink spoon. Without a word (or an exclamation panel, he skipped off into the ventilation tunnels.