The Enigma

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Deep under the sand. Deep under the crust. Deep. Deep. Deep.

But not deep enough. Never deep enough.

Feel her. Yes, sense her. Trion's heir. Not the Prime. Not the other leader. The green one. She isn't like she was, but she also isn't like them.

But that is not who is needed. But she can be used.

She is slithering under the sand, eating the sparks of her enemy.

She isn't deep, deep enough.

But sand shifts beneath her. She sinks closer, closer, closer...

Someone follows, grabbing onto her, sinking with her.

The sister. Her sister. Pure--no! That is what Prima would say. But 100% cyberteonian, not a bit of sparkeater.

But she is the viscous one. Greedy. Power hungry. Energon-thirsty.

And blood-thirsty. She reeks of betrayal.

Others follow them down, falling into the sandtrap. Closer...closer...

None of them fit the job. But it senses one.

It begins to float, crashing through stone and tectonic plates until it reaches sand, spilling onto it.

Up, up, up.

A giant metal hand, snarled, grabs hold.

Not the one it is looking for. But it allows whoever it is to make its journey easier.

Its pulled out of the ground, feeling sunlight for the first time in centuries.

Cries of victory as a red and grey jet holds it in the air.

A giant green combiner--a combiner!--reaches for it, pulling it out of the scrawny jet's grip

He cried in a squaky voice in protest of losing his prize.

The once raging battle is silenced as the green combiner--apparently made of construction bots--lifts it closer to the sky.

"Devastator has Enigma! Devestator in charge of all combiners!'

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