...Stubbornness, mostly. [The people of Earth really are like their roaches- they refuse to give up, they refuse to die.] We spent most of the time hiding, while they hunted us. We'd fight wherever we could- taking out smaller groups of Krang zombies here and there, attacking their ships... it was a lot of smaller victories, doing just enough damage to make sure we stayed alive a little longer.

[He really, really doesn't like to admit it. They'd been hopeful at times, they'd fought so hard and celebrated those victories with their whole hearts. Closer to the end though, things just kept getting harder. Slow-boiling a frog, as some said at the base. ("Or a turtle!" sensei had joked, overhearing them. He'd laughed, but there'd been a strain to his smile.)]

For a while, we were actually doing okay. [Sort of. If eating rats and living underground with the surface world a hellscape covered in bones is "okay".] But once one of my uncles died, it started getting worse. We couldn't keep up with how fast they were spreading. We... weren't strong enough anymore. Like a table, you know? Lost a leg, lost our balance... fell over. [He wobbles his hand awkwardly, then scuffs it against his eyes, catching himself. No more crying, sheesh...]