The skies bled red that day. The fires in the heart of the city raged, as the outskirts were consumed by ash and silence. There was poison in the air, but no one was choking, as they were already dead.

Monsters. Savages. Saiyans. Breathing blasts of ki, they stomped and destroyed whatever stood in their path. And they laughed. As if it were a game. As if the lives that they had taken were nothing. Families murdered. Children orphaned. Those who witnessed the destruction: wounded soldiers, old men and women; charged with a vengeance in their hearts. With no one commanding them, they attacked the lumbering beasts, to avenge the fallen; their children, mothers, fathers, friends. They knew in their hearts that they were entitled to win. That since they were right and their cause was just, they would defeat the monsters stole so much from them.

They were wrong, and Paya knew it.

The Tuffles were to be considered a smart a race. They weren't as strong as the Saiyans. They didn't have a Namekian's ability to fuse or more heal. They were just tiny men with big brains and generous hearts. Hearts that lay bleeding in the street, with wounds inflicted by those they had been opened to.

There was no pride in what Paya was doing. And maybe one day he would curse himself for doing this.

But Tuffles were small people with big brains. And now was no time to cry.

The desk was clear now. Paya had made sure that all the drives on the computers had been backed up and wiped clean. His pockets were filled with storage devices, and the bag by his side was overflowing with papers and hard drives. He knew the Tuffles couldn't win the war. Not with the numbers they had left. A Saiyan victory was assured. But it was in a Saiyans nature to destroy, to take and to pillage.

He glanced at the wound on his abdomen. He could manage to tank the pain with the weight he was carrying. But he had to be fast. He couldn't afford to be seen. He was too valuable now. He was the key to the survival of the Tuffles. In the chamber, he could hear footsteps outside. He couldn't risk checking. He gathered his belongings, and ran further into the underground citadel, heading towards his escape ship.

Above, the battle raged on. The Saiyans were no longer in their monstrous forms, for the moon was gone. But that did not lessen their barbaric nature. They were still giants compared to the Tuffles, and they could revel all the more in their suffering, as it was much personal now.

In the rising columns of smoke and soot, no one noticed the tiny ship taking off. Hurtling towards the sky.

Once Paya was in the planet's orbit, that brilliant Tuffle mind snapped. Emotions flooded his head, all the calculations, the plans lost in sorrow and anger and shame. The pain from his wound intensified.

What right did he have to escape alone? What right did he have to save his own life while children half his age died for their friends and family? His wife...what could have become of her? The brutes would have murdered her, torn her limb from limb. And so Paya let out a scream. A cry of agony, for all that had been lost. Tears streamed down his eyes. He was alone. Shame had punished him with solitude.

The Tuffles were gone.

Paya looked out the window, his planet black instead of bright, like it used to be. Destroyed, desecrated by those... Filthy monkeys. Paya knelt at the window, and under his breath, he chanted a little prayer. For all those who had died. He apologized, again and again.

But he still knew what he had to do. The Saiyan way is to destroy. The Tuffle way is to adapt and evolve. It is to figure out solutions to impossible situations. The small ship had everything he needed. A navigational system. Research from the greatest Tuffle minds. The rest would be provided by the vast expanse of space.

He looked out of the other window, into the endless void. Endless. Unlimited possibilities. Wiping his tears, he punched in the specifications on the small console. The Tuffles were not dead yet. And as long as Paya drew breath, they won't be.