Brawl had had all the intention of pummeling Long Haul down if that had been what the situation required from him. On the other hand, the Constructicons were old comrades and he harbored no ill will towards them. He had enjoyed friendly brawls with both Bonecrusher and Long Haul on many occasions. That being said, orders were orders. And for all of his quirks, Brawl was good at obeying orders. What he wasn't good at was making judgment calls, those were left to Onslaught and the leader of the Combaticons hadn't been specific enough to prevent Brawl from acting exactly the way that came naturally to Brawl.
And making that call had resulted in Razorclaw yelling at him? It was crowded inside Astrotrain, how else they could have even gotten to Hook without alerting the Constructicons to gang up other than shoving them around without warning? Brawl didn't get it. Gah! It was Onslaught's fault as far as Brawl was concerned. He was the tactician. It was his slagging responsibility of giving Brawl a proper plan to follow. The angry glare Brawl directed at his commanding officer was as good indication of his feelings.
“Frag,” Brawl cursed as he got back to his feet and offered a hand to pull Long Haul up, “Uh, sorry Hauler. A little misunderstanding. That's all.”
Motormaster watched with mild amusement as chaos reigned within Astrotrain's cargo room. What little fun there had been was quickly put down by their de facto leader Razorclaw. Fine. He'd let the Predacon play diplomat if that's what he wanted to do. The Stunticon thug had given Razorclaw his word and while Motormaster's word couldn't exactly be trusted 100%, it was not given lightly either.
“You heard commander Razorclaw boys!” Motormaster boomed over the ruckus of sounds echoing inside Astrotrain, “Sit down and shut the slag up!”
The order had two sides to it. Quite frankly, Motormaster himself didn't feel like talking with anyone right now. Too much crap had gone down of late. The Ultrax lied in the bottom mud of one of the planet's great water masses in need of dire repairs. The new base Constructicons had been building had been compromised. The Decepticons had to get their house in order. Their leadership was nowhere near solidified and the Fallen had hurt them bad. And if Devastator, Shockwave, Starscream and Thunderwing didn't make everything complicated enough, the Fallen had hurt them bad. At least he had wrangled Prowl bad enough to cause some injuries that should at least slow down the Autobot tactician for a time being even if one of their fliers had managed to save Prowl from a crash landing. And then there was Dragstrip. No one defied the King of roads like that and got away with just a broken knee joint. Oh no. The crackdown would be long and painstaking.
On the bright side, making Wildrider shut up always lifted his mood.
There was a short moment where Skullcruncher's instincts told him to spin around and sink his teeth in the enemy which had dared to challenge him. Fortunately enough, the murderous haze that had overcome his upper thought processes began to fade away as the energon he had processed from the dead Vehicon began to nourish his depleted fuel reserves.
Being quite baffled really for finding himself in his cybergator mode instead of the last mode he had been adapted into, Skullcruncher transformed into robot form, rubbing his head in confusion.
“Weirdwolf? What just happened?”