Spires, spires, and beyond that, more spires. Once, what seemed an eternity ago, they were crystalline, shining, glittering, casting their sparkling glow for miles around, but now, they reflected no light. None, not a ray, like little black sticks they stood, well, a few that was. Some had simply crumbled from such abuse, fallen upon the ground like the myriad of small forms that had once been mechs. They lay, cold, their embers extinguished, their faces in anguish of their last moments of life before they were cut down. What should've been a beautiful city was no longer, ugly, disgusting, horrible and twisted. It was early morning, warm rays of light should've been falling on Crystal City, his beloved Crystal City, but the ash kicked up by the fires that had burned all night, and three nights before that would've surely made enough ash and smoke to blot out the sky's gentle morning light. Not that he could see, not in that small dingy little cell.

There wasn't even the smallest window, of course, he suspected he was some feet under ground. It was black, dark, the only light made by the blue of his azure optics. That claustrophobic cell was dank, the air practically wet, so wet and moist that it made his intakes gurgle the slightest bit as he waited for his fate. Drawn up against the wall, his knees to his chest, his arms balanced upon his knees, he turned his head, looking towards the back wall where a bench had been, only chains now and a busted board laying haphazardly across the dirty room. It was especially confining, sickenly so for one of his frame build. A flyer, with those snowy white wings, obscured by the dark, pressed against a wall with who knew what sort of filth, was used to the sky, open, free, not in a small cell. While he hailed from Vos, Crystal City had become his home, his place of belonging, and now it was gone, only ghastly black minarets.

What other choice did he have?

None.

Had he said 'yes,' Crystal City would've been destroyed none the less, not that he could ever bring himself to say yes, to bring himself to do such atrocities, never, not ever.

He had refused the Prime, Leader of the Autobots. All were to bend knee to him, but he hadn't. How non-threatening he looked, not at all large or imposing as the Autobot ruler, almost fragile looking with those wings poised behind his back. At times he was almost timid, shy, as many 'scholarly' sort of mechs were, but he had said no to perhaps the most powerful mech on all of Cybertron. Either he was stupid, or had more mettle than what was previously thought of him, by that of his peers or even himself. Slowly he lifted a hand to rub at the pale derma plating of his face, giving a soft sigh, wondering what exactly would happen when he heard a sound from the end of the cellblock. For a moment he thought he seen a glimmer of light, but it was low, and than he heard the sound of an opening door. It wasn't long after that, he heard footfalls, approaching the cell where he was, familiar strides sounding upon the cool, damp floors. It was a large cellblock, but from the sounds of it, he was the only one there. Prisoners did not last long in the Autobot camp. They were sent to the slag pits if they were lucky, worse if they weren't.

"Starscream," came an all-too familiar voice.

Looking up, the lithe flyer let his optics alight upon that mech that had just called his name. In comparison, that mech before him was towering, more so with him, Starscream, seated upon those floors. Once, that mech had been friend, or so the imprisoned mech had thought, had thought them close, sometimes lovers, but that had changed. One day that mech had disappeared, and the next time he had seen him, the large mech had been branded with the violet insignia of Autobots, heralding Crystal City's downfall, snatching him up and carrying him off to Optimus Prime himself. Lifting his head, almost pridefully, mustering up every ounce of courage within him, despite his tenuous situation, he replied to the cool greeting, "Skyfire."

The seemingly imposing mech crossed his arms, tilting his head to the side, red optics dimly lit. Barely, could Starscream see that smile, mocking, there upon his features. At first glance that large mech appeared kindly, gentle even, genial and trustworthy, oh had Starscream fallen for that facade in his naivety. While Starscream was primarily white but for the red and deep grey accenting his frame here and there, Skyfire was a deep grey and red almost throughout, with very little white to his paint scheme, edged about the back of his wings, a stripe that bisected his chassis and a little on his legs. Across his chest was blazoned that Autobot insignia, that mark of treachery.

"You're one lucky mech, I'll give you that, Starscream," came the mech's cool voice, articulate, almost beautifully so. It was one of the things that had so attracted the smaller flyer to this mech, his voice was so beautiful, yet like his silvery facial features, it belied his true nature. "The Lord Prime wishes me extend you one last chance to reconsider, while it's too late for Crystal City, your own stubborn fault that, you can least save your life. . ." he mused, making sure to add that sharp stab about the fate of Crystal City that had seemingly been resting on his shoulders. It wasn't as simple as that, a yes or no answer, not in the least, whether the smaller mech had conceded to Optimus Prime or not, Crystal City would not have, not have dared conceded to those dark desires of the Autobot leader, and at that, nor would Starscream.

"No," replied the mech still seated, unmoving, with only his head tilted up. He would not chose the path of murder and villainy.

A chuckle left Skyfire's vocalizer, "You always were too stubborn for your own good, why not? Do you really want to have Wheeljack and Ratchet pick over your CPU? Prime will get what he wants, whether you're willing or not, you will submit. You're too valuable to be simply tossed in the smelter, if that's what you're hoping for. Oh no, Starscream, martyrdom is the last thing you'll be getting," he continued, his voice never faltering in that kindly tone despite the cruelty of the words that he spoke.

"I said no, or didn't you hear that?" the smaller mech said sharply, embittered by his betrayal of whom he thought was his closest friend.

"Mmm, you wound me Starscream, I would've thought you more intelligent. I even thought that at very least, our friendship would've meant something, that you would stand with me," that mech continued, dropping his arms, standing before that field that encased the imprisoned flyer, standing just at the point before it would crackle off energy.

"You disappeared, you came back, and when you came back, you drug me back to your master like a trained Cyberwolf brings back a petrorabbit to a hunter, so speak not of friendship to me, Skyfire, all my friends are dead!" Starscream retorted sharply, azure optics flickering.

"Tch," Skyfire said, part of his facade dropping for the merest instant, a hand lifting to stroke against the field, causing a small spark of energy to flick off his digits, "You have only yourself to blame for that one. . ." he said softly, starting to turn, "I should leave you here alone. . ." he mused.

It was Starscream's turn to cross his arms, "Oh yes, but that would be too slagging nice of you to leave me in peace before I get my CPU picked over as you said it," the smaller mech said, a thin trace of venom lining his words, even using a cuss at the mech that was. . .actually infuriating him.

A smile ghosted over the lips of that Autobot at those harsh words, turning back to the indignant mech, "So fiery, tsk, tsk, I suppose I should teach you a lesson for that. . ." he whispered, "You know. . . I have access to the cells, disabling the fields, you know, all of that, and no one is going to much notice if you're a little scratched up. . ." A grin then alighted upon his features, completely destroying that genial expression, making him look all too like the Cyberwolf that Starscream had just compared him too. The smaller mech thought he might've shivered at such an expression, a wave of fear working over his ember.