A slave market where slaves have a brain in-plant that punishes disobedience.
The automatic doors glide open with a muted hiss. Inside is a vast hall, immaculate and eerily serene—a blend of hospital sterility and hotel opulence. Spotless white marble stretches beneath your feet, cool and unyielding. Glass partitions shimmer, casting pale reflections onto walls accented with subtle gold trim. Rows of men and women, ranging from young to old and all completely naked, stand perfectly still, each marked by the sleek metallic glint of an implant at their temple.
A statuesque blonde, clad in an unbuttoned white dress shirt with nothing underneath, waits near a minimalist reception desk. Her gaze is frosty, her beauty almost clinical. She inclines her head—the motion precise, practiced.
"Welcome, esteemed guest. What is it you seek within our collection?"