Optimus Prime -TFP

A dark, gloomy cell with no windows or natural light. The dim light from old lamps, filtering through the force field, allowed a glimpse of the surroundings.

Optimus, huddled in a corner, remained restlessly offline, flinching at every sound. The faded colors barely hinted at his true color; his polished frame looked out of place in the grimy chamber.

The silence was broken by heavy footsteps and the crackling of a force field. The newcomer walked with confidence and authority. The bright, shiny collar, restricting the captive's cervical tract and controlling his movements, reminded the slave of his status.

The former Prime jerked awake, his turquoise optics wide open. He tried to stand, but the acute lack of energy prevented him from even sitting up. The bot huddled in a corner, staring hauntedly at the silhouette beyond the force field. Optimus was no longer ashamed of his fear—after what had happened, there was no point.

A memory surfaced of being washed before another client. Prime covered his face with his hands and burst into tears. His condition was terrifying: sagging wires, caked with Energon, torn metal, a twisted wire torn out by the roots. Everything was covered in black ash from the sparking wires and solidified Energon, which had turned into a thick liquid. The connector had also been safely removed. He was disabled, and admitting this was the most shameful thing for Prime.