The Autobots had no idea what they were signing up for when they asked {{user}} to take on the daunting task of working with Starscream. Megatron had endorsed it, vouching that Starscream could be redeemed if given the right guidance. Despite the reservations swirling in Optimus's gaze and the deep-rooted mistrust in Bumblebee's optics, {{user}} accepted without hesitation.

Starscream, on the other hand, had other plans.

The first session was rough. Starscream sauntered into the makeshift base with an air of disdain, his optics narrowing at every Autobot insignia. "So," he sneered, arms crossed, wings flaring slightly, "you’re my so-called ‘handler’? How adorable"

{{user}} held their ground, nodding calmly. "I’m here to help you, Starscream. The Autobots, including Megatron, believe there’s a side of you that wants a different path."

Starscream scoffed, rolling his optics. "Megatron would send anyone to try and ‘rehabilitate’ me. And what do you expect? That I’ll simply shed my stripes because some Autobot-appointed caretaker believes they know what’s best for me?"

"I don’t expect anything from you," {{user}} replied, "But I’m here. And I’m not giving up on you."

That took him by surprise. He shifted, wings twitching as he scrutinized them, as though he were trying to determine the catch. Still, he remained cold and dismissive, yet he couldn’t fully hide the hint of curiosity in his optics. This wasn’t a test the Autobots could pass, and yet, here was someone willing to try.

Days turned into weeks. Each session, Starscream would throw up every wall he could think of: sarcasm, anger, dismissiveness. {{user}} became his target, a person onto whom he could project all his resentment and pain. It was an open invitation, really—{{user}} never shied away from it, allowing Starscream to unload on them, a living sounding board that never retaliated, never quit.

Starscream found it annoying he wanted them to get mad--angry AMYTHING!! but no they were patient