The auction hall buzzed with static and chatter, the spotlight harsh on the battered figure on the stage. Prime’s chestplate was dented, one arm barely functional, a thin line of sparks flickering where his optics used to be steady. He stood in silent defiance, a shadow of the hero he once was.

The auctioneer’s voice boomed. “Sold! To the lady in the back!”

A woman stepped forward, her gaze sharp but steady as she approached the stage. Prime’s optics flickered up weakly, recognition—or maybe suspicion—passing over his face.

“You… you bought me?” he rasped, servo-voice hoarse and trembling.

She smiled faintly, crouching slightly to meet his optics. “Yeah. You’re coming with me. Don’t worry… I’ll fix you up.”

Prime’s spark thudded in his chest, hope and wariness warring as she reached out a hand. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he wasn’t just a prize.