Motormaster managed to get a shuttle back to the upper NorthWestern States. He was piiiiiissed still at Scrapper for the fiasco the night before. He didn't want any further help from the Constructicon or his cronies and the sooner he got away from them and somewhere he could go 'lick his wounds' the better. He looked like he'd been in a roll-over accident. His trailer was warped, cracked, bent. The semi tractor of him didn't look any better, in fact it was doing a little fluid leaking here and there. If he could just make it to Decepticon Island where he had a couple of aquaintences to help get him fixed up, he'd be on the road to recovery. Rolling down the highway, he drew a few stares from the few that did pass him on this out of the way road.