The cells felt more like coffins than prisons – in size, shape, and likelihood of survival. This single corridor was host to dozens of them, a gleaming white stretch of walls lined with containment field doors. Their shimmering surfaces were only transparent in one direction, inward, so that one could casually observe each captive on a stroll, while those inside the cells could only see yet another blank wall.
A bit maddening, perhaps, but most of their acquisitions were kept in stasis when they didn't need to be observed. It was processing time, which meant that stock needed to sorted and sold off to appropriate buyers. Usually that would require a lot of careful marketing and sales pitches, but this one was going to be easy. It was a very particular catch for a very particular buyer, and the terms had been set before the targets were ever picked up.
Trafficking was a Collective specialty, but Cybertronians were a well known liability, and few wanted to dip their hands in that particular pot just for the sake of it. A public sale would have been more bother than it was worth, but as a mercenary operation it was a fast paycheck and a chance to prove one's mettle for the future.
This was going to be an in and out operation, and the Collective sales representative's stride was confident as she led the client towards the big cages. Most of the cells in this area had to be custom fit for some reason or another, and the ceiling stretched upwards over fifty feet for the tallest of them. The containment fields here cut particularly striking views of the various beings and beasts held within.
This one was hard to miss.
The Cybertronian was large even by its species' standards, standing nearly forty feet tall and covered in thick, durable plating in shades of red and blue. The transforming abilities of its kind made them a particular threat, and especially hard to capture, and so that had been kept in mind with its holding cell. Its arms were bound in heavy shackles that would compress its panels enough to render shifting impossible. Those were currently locked into a waist height pillar that branched outward into the cell walls and also pinned its feet in place, metal bands locking its tires and gripping all the way up to its knees.
Its eyes were closed – perhaps in its restorative state. The sales representative's status documents said that it had been muzzled after refusing to remain silent when told.
The representative approached the wall that lined the window, tapping a code into its near imperceptible interface with a specialized glove. The transparency of the containment field switched so that it could be seen through both ways, abruptly exposing the Cybertronian to the world outside.
She was just about to administer a small shock to wake it up when it opened its eyes unbidden, indicating that it had likely not actually been unconscious in the first place. The blue light of its optics were sharp with restrained anger, immediately focusing on the two beings outside its cage.
That was the only window into its rebellious nature, with it silenced and near immobilized, but the tendency had been noted. Even now, it strained near imperceptibly against the metal pillar binding it, testing the limits of its hold. A threat, to be sure.
The client was a Nebulan in a full suit of body armor, making any of its more personal characteristics ambiguous. The Collective representative was unconcerned. Everything was already finished in the books, anyway. All the client needed to do was confirm the identities of the acquisitions, and then settle on any additional purchases.
The Nebulan raised the scanner imbedded in their arm, analyzing the energy signature of the Cybertronian's spark. In the meantime, the representative tapped in another command to the interface, temporarily relieving the Cybertronian of its muzzle, which pulled back into nodes set at the sides of its helm.
It vented a harsh burst of air, releasing a small cloud of exhaust from its mouth as its internal engines growled. It did not immediately speak, however. Apparently it had learned its lesson. For now.
"Designation?" the representative asked, tapping her datapad. She already knew the answer, obviously. It was a completely pointless question. It was also an excellent way to test compliance.
"Optimus Prime," it replied, after a delay. The glare of its optics intensified, moving between the Nebulan and the representative. The Nebulan said nothing, focusing instead on its scanner.
"Optimus Prime," the representative repeated, satisfied. "Your custody is being purchased by an outside party. You will be transferred within the cycle. Full compliance is expected."
"A sentient being cannot be purchased," it growled, straining more obviously against its bonds.
"You have been apprehended under the jurisdiction of our sector."
"Interplanetary law-"
"The Cybertronian species has no protection under the Galactic Council. We have followed our own code to the letter, and you have no right to demand further justification."
The Cybertronian pushed forward as far as it could go, an edge of desperation in its words.
"I have broken no law!"
"That's debatable," the Nebulan said, suddenly present after a long period of silence. They lowered their scanner, apparently content with the results. They turned to the representative. "We'll take the set."
"Excellent," the representative said, reactivating the muzzle just as the Cybertronian was about to object, leaving them with nothing but a pained grunt. The representative was relieved that this one would no longer be her problem.
Before she could hear any more complaining, she reset the containment field back to one way viewing capacity, closing out the Cybertronian's sight of them as it struggled uselessly inside. She gestured for the client to follow with one of her exceptionally long fingers.
"Now, to discuss the others..."