In the early days of plastic manufacturing, factories once worked with pure polymers and mixed in whatever it took to get by—no flame retardant, no second thought about what might happen if sparks flew in the wrong place. After a few tragic fires and a rising demand for safer products, the approach shifted. By the 1970s, attention turned to flame retardant additives, at first simple powders and chemicals tossed into molten polymer. Production lines kept evolving, regulations tightened, and before long, companies started searching for masterbatch solutions for polyamide—nylon, as most folks know it. In the late 1980s, big processors adopted halogenated compounds, hoping to meet strict standards for automotive and electrical markets. Environmental pressure grew, so the late 90s saw trials on halogen-free versions, with intumescent and phosphorus-based chemistries. These days, it’s common to see complicated blends, tested to the nth degree, because industry can’t afford catastrophic failures or toxic smoke in the everyday products people count on.
Open any bulk bag labeled “flame retardant masterbatch for polyamide,” and you’ll see tough, waxy pellets, often white or off-white with a faint chemical odor. Brought into the shop, these are ready-mixed additives containing active flame retardant agents, polymer carrier, and dispersants that bond tightly to nylon resin. Manufacturers offer grades tailored for injection molding, fiber extrusion, and film production. Customers use these because they want materials that fight fire without losing too much strength, color, or workability. Different types rely on different core chemicals—some old lines still rely on brominated organics (like decabromodiphenyl ether), but newer batches push for halogen-free options, often based on nitrogen, phosphorus, or melamine. Balancing cost, compatibility, safety rules, and mechanical strength has always pushed research in new directions.
Pick up a freshly produced masterbatch pellet and it won’t crush easily under your fingers. Polyamide masterbatches need to stay hard at room temperature, flow properly when mixed with melted resin, and resist breaking down until they’re supposed to react in the presence of flame. Chemically, these rely on additives with high decomposition temperatures, because polyamide gets processed at 220-280°C, far above where most cheap fire retardants break down. The pellets get their color and consistency from surface coatings, making it easier for an operator to toss them into a mixing hopper. Commercial grades can withstand humidity, ultraviolet light, and physical rough handling during transportation. Under the microscope, dispersant molecules keep flame retardant particles from collecting into lumps; this prevents weak or burned spots in finished parts. In testing labs, finished polyamide parts made with masterbatch have to meet strict standards for electrical insulation, mechanical bend strength, and fire ratings—the UL 94 V-0 “vertical burn” test is most common here, sometimes even trickier ones if the part’s for aerospace or electronics.
Once delivered to a factory, masterbatch bags carry technical sheets spelling out minimum and maximum loading rates (often between 10%-30% by weight), melting points, recommended processing temperatures, and shelf life. Labels also list chemical ingredients by trade name or broad group, conforming to legal rules in Europe, China, and the US. Modern masterbatches guarantee the flame retardant won’t leak, bloom, or migrate over time—nobody wants powdery residue on finished parts. Some producers stamp a lot code and manufacture date on every bag, giving traceability for recalls or quality complaints. Bigger buyers demand test certificates for halogen content, heavy metals, and finished-part fire resistance. Product managers and engineers check these labels every run, knowing a wrong masterbatch grade means products flunk tests, customer projects get delayed, or expensive recalls loom down the road.
Manufacturers start by blending powdered flame retardant chemistry (bromines, phosphates, melamines, or custom molecules), then melt these with a polymer carrier (often the same type of polyamide as the base material) in an extruder. The mix churns through hot screws, dispersing chemicals evenly, before it squeezes out in thick ropes, which get chopped into pellets. Some lines use twin-screw extrusion to guarantee finer mixing. In my own work, I’ve seen processors who skip pre-mixing steps struggle constantly with batch-to-batch inconsistency; only tight controls and calibrated feeding systems prevent weak spots or uneven cell formation in finished polyamide goods. Additives like antioxidants or anti-drip agents may join the mix, especially if parts will see harsh outdoor air or high heat in service.
Classic flame retardant masterbatches take advantage of several chemical tricks. Halogenated compounds, for instance, decompose under heat, releasing halogen radicals that scavenge free radicals in burning nylon—slowing down the combustion and dropping the smoke output. Phosphorus-based types switch gears, promoting char formation right where heat hits first; this char blocks oxygen from feeding the flame and keeps burning debris from dripping. Nitrogen-rich systems like melamine derivatives puff up, creating a foamy barrier that insulates underlying polyamide. Newer, “reactive” blends attach flame retardants directly to a polymer backbone, so they don’t leach out or get lost in waste water treatment plants. Chemists keep watching for possible side reactions—acidic byproducts that degrade polyamide chains, for instance—but careful testing and small tweaks generally solve these before raw masterbatch leaves the factory floor.
Talk to suppliers or check old data sheets, and the same substance might pop up under a dozen names—flame retardant concentrates, FR masterbatch, halogen-free masterbatch, intumescent masterbatch. Precise names like “DecaBDE Masterbatch” or “APP (Ammonium Polyphosphate) Masterbatch” get thrown around. Sometimes, companies sell under their own branding—“Flamestop 3000,” “NyloShield FR,” or similar. Europe trends toward labeling by functional group (brominated, phosphorous, nitrogen-based) rather than chemical name, especially since REACH registration forced more transparency. Some industries stick to old code names; in textile extrusion shops, masterbatch names from decades ago turn up on run sheets, often shorthand for an entire class of additives.
Production lines take safety seriously. Factories keep masterbatches sealed in cool, dry storage, away from direct sunlight or open flames, to avoid decomposition or dust explosions. Handling these chemicals means wearing gloves, googles, and dust masks on the job, as even halogen-free types can irritate the skin or lungs over time. In the mixing room, good ventilation and low-dust feeding systems keep airborne particles under control. Safety Data Sheets (SDS) explain every hazard in clear terms, warning about proper fire extinguisher selection and emergency procedure. Most regulatory bodies set approval routes—UL, RoHS, REACH, GB, and more—forcing every masterbatch grade through a gauntlet of fire and smoke tests. In my own shop experience, lost days to safety errors are more costly than extra handling steps; if the flame retardant batch isn’t handled right, the entire run can go off spec or, worse, risk a health incident.
Polyamide flame retardant masterbatch turns up everywhere from cellphone housings, automotive wiring connectors, appliance parts, computer fans, to circuit board spacers. In cars, these additives protect engine bay parts exposed to oil splashes and high temperature, crucial for safety and warranty claims. The electronics industry counts on these masterbatches in parts that must survive power surges or hot soldering irons, and in public infrastructure, they serve in cable sheathing, lighting components, and fasteners. My own clients in textile extrusion use special FR masterbatches for automotive seat belt fibers and industrial carpets, products that meet tough transit authority standards. Even consumer furniture sometimes incorporates FR-treated polyamide fasteners or supports, helping buyers sleep a little easier at night. Without these materials, every fire code and insurance contract would look very different.
Researchers dig deep into how every new flame retardant chemical might interact with the host polymer, environment, or user. Labs keep running tests for better thermal stability, lower toxicity, less smoke, and faster buildup of the protective char. The big challenge lies in making halogen-free systems that match, or beat, their older brominated cousins without spiking costs or hurting recyclability. Teams experiment with layered combinations—nano clays, aluminum phosphinates, coated ammonium polyphosphate—but keeping mechanical strength and processing ease is a tough balancing act. Bench chemists collaborate with extrusion lines, constantly adjusting masterbatch feed rates to see what gets the best burn test results. I’ve seen entire conferences dedicated to making masterbatches that serve as both colorant and flame retardant, because even a small performance boost translates into lighter, safer, and more competitive products.
Toxicologists investigate not just the additives but every trace byproduct or impurity left after burning. Legacy chemicals like DecaBDE face bans in many markets after showing up in breast milk, soil, and the broader food chain. Newer halogen-free flame retardants reduce those risks, but worries about organophosphate breakdown products or nanoparticulate debris keep regulators alert. Long-term studies track exposure for operators, checking skin and lung reactions, while ecotoxicity labs assess how these chemicals break down in rivers, soil, or landfill. Manufacturers run full emission tests, especially for products headed into homes, schools, or hospitals. Claims of zero toxicity mean nothing unless backed by rigorous data; buyers want real-world assurance, not just fine print. Safety gains become a selling point, and regulators continue checking for problems that weren’t seen twenty years ago.
Factories, labs, and big customers all ask for masterbatches that do more: better fire performance, less environmental risk, smoother processing, and improved recyclability. Research heads toward biobased carriers and flame retardants made from renewable sources—think phosphorus compounds from food waste, or nitrogen agents derived from agricultural byproducts. Automated compounding lines and AI-driven quality control stand to cut costs and guarantee consistency, making it easier for small shops to comply with tough rules. Stricter bans on halogen and antimony-based additives in Europe and North America force everyone to double down on alternatives, so the field keeps shifting rapidly. The next few years will see partnerships between bigger resin companies, tech giants, and recyclers, urging innovations that cut hazardous output at every stage. Demands from the electric vehicle and electronics sectors will probably drive new blends that resist both heat and electrical tracking, pushing a whole new slate of safer, more effective flame retardant masterbatch options for years to come.
Walk through any office or car interior. Plastics turn up everywhere: seats, dashboards, laptop casings, cable insulation. Most folks don’t realize how easily some plastics can burn, filling a space with smoke and toxic fumes. From a safety angle, polyamide (often known as nylon) stands out because it tackles jobs where both toughness and resistance to heat matter. Throw in a spark or a short, and suddenly, fire risk matters too.
Manufacturers look for ways to make polyamide parts safer without adding too much cost or compromising how they work. Flame retardant masterbatch steps in as a practical fix. It looks like regular plastic pellets. Inside these pellets sit tiny additives—chemicals meant to interrupt the chain reaction that lets fire feed on plastic. When blended with pure polyamide during production, this masterbatch spreads flame-resistant properties throughout the finished product.
Instead of dousing finished parts with a fire-suppressing spray or relying on expensive coatings, production teams put these masterbatch pellets right into the mix during molding or extrusion. Once molded into car components, electronics housings, or cable sheaths, the polyamide gains new resistance—slowing down ignition, cutting back dripping, and giving people more time to react in an emergency.
From my own time working in a busy molding plant, nobody loved the paper chase that came with fire safety certifications. If products caught a spark too quickly, they failed. Every failed batch meant lost time and wasted money. Masterbatch solutions allowed us to hit key standards, like UL94 V-0 for electronics, without retooling the whole line. Instead of treating fire protection as a chore, it became a box we could check with confidence.
Not every masterbatch works the same way. Some formulas include halogenated additives, which can put out flames fast but sometimes create rough smoke and environmental concerns when burned. Halogen-free alternatives, such as aluminum diethylphosphinate or melamine compounds, have grown in demand as more regulations tighten up on what can go into consumer and automotive goods. Mixing the right flame retardants calls for more than just chemistry; it’s about reading customer expectations and local rules.
Flame retardants have caught heat (pun intended) from health and environmental groups who worry about what leaches out of old plastics after years of use. Europe and Asia already impose strict controls on certain chemicals. California brings its own set of headaches for US manufacturers. More and more, factories pick masterbatch blends that hit the sweet spot between tough fire safety measures and friendlier environmental profiles.
In my experience, easy communication between the people making the masterbatch and the team molding the final products works best. Adjustments come down to the part’s shape, its use, and the certifications needed. Open discussion about trade-offs, like strength versus flame protection or clarity versus cost, keeps surprises low and safety high.
New developments keep showing up. Better dispersion methods, smarter halogen-free chemistries, and even masterbatches designed for recycled polyamide help keep plastics relevant in a safety-conscious age. The bigger win? More folks in industry now see flame retardant masterbatch as essential—no longer an afterthought, but a tool for making sure the things people use daily offer one less fire risk at home, at work, or on the road.
Manufacturers toss masterbatch into polyamide for a good reason. It’s about getting those colors right, targeting specific properties, and doing it without making the process a pain. Over years visiting factories and standing next to the compounding lines, I’ve noticed workers rarely stress much about adding color or function; they let masterbatch do that heavy lifting. Masterbatch usually lands in pellet or granular form—looks just like a regular resin, only more loaded. Colorants, UV stabilizers, flame retardants—they all get packed into these concentrated little carriers.
At the feed throat of the extruder, workers scoop in a recipe that mixes raw polyamide granules and the masterbatch. Some lines run with gravimetric feeders, ensuring the ratio stays honest. It’s not rocket science, but it takes some experience: too low a dose, and the effect drops off fast. Too much, and processing trouble or cost jumps. For example, a cable manufacturer I know had whole spools ruined by streaky color because the tech thought eyeballing the blend was good enough.
Everything relies on that resin blend entering the barrel, mixing at speed and temperature. Good dispersion asks for a bit of heat, some shear, and time. Polyamide melts up around 220-260°C, letting the additives dissolve and blend straight into the base resin. I’ve run my own hands through cooled “purge” to check for unmixed bits. If the dispersion flops, it shows right away: splotchy colors, weird weakness, sometimes uneven shrinkage.
Polyamide likes to soak up water, which brings its own headaches. If either the polymer or masterbatch carries too much moisture, the melt spits and sometimes even foams, leading to brittle parts. Once, I watched a whole day’s worth of injection molded gears tossed in the bin because the operator skipped drying. There’s a simple fix: treat masterbatch and resin the same—dry them both, not just the main polymer. Dehumidifying dryers do that better than the old-school hot-air bins.
Some masterbatches struggle to play nice with polyamide. Let’s say you’re adding glass fiber and also want color. Picking a carrier resin that actually fits polyamide helps. If a polyethylene-based masterbatch mixes in, it fights the base resin, often hurting strength. I’ve seen labs run side-by-side comparisons—one part bends, the other snaps. Each additive, each base, has its quirks and ideal partners. Skimping on matchups between masterbatch carrier and polymer doesn’t just cost performance, it hits longevity and reliability too.
Reliable blending needs tight process control. Automatic blending systems keep ratios exact, and factory setups where dust or pellet carryover happens get regular cleaning. Maintenance teams keep feeders unclogged. Quality checks on masterbatch suppliers matter. Some companies provide detailed certificates; others just ship in bulk without info. I learned pretty quick to run a simple color test with every new drum—putting trust in paperwork over evidence tends to backfire.
For small producers or those running frequent color changes, masterbatch offers flexibility over pre-colored resins. Storage costs drop. Inventories shrink. Blending lets you react to new orders without waiting weeks for a custom resin batch. The main lesson: treat masterbatch and base resin as real teammates. Get the ratio, drying, mixing right, and you’re set. Skip any step, and troubleshooting eats into precious production hours.
Nobody lines up eager to check the safety data sheets, but for those who work with plastics, textiles, or construction materials, getting flame retardant loading levels right can spell the difference between meeting regulations and a dangerous recall. The sweet spot for how much flame retardant to use depends on the product, the base polymer, and the flame retardant itself. It’s never a one-size-fits-all answer, regardless of what the manufacturer says on the bag.
Most of my experience comes from tinkering with thermoplastics—polypropylene, ABS, and polycarbonate. Many halogenated flame retardants like decaBDE, used in older electronics, worked with loads around 10-15% by weight. Chlorinated paraffins fell into that same ballpark. Now, everybody’s scrambling to phase those out, but it gives you a sense of where the bar was set.
Phosphorus flame retardants, which pop up in furniture foam and modern electronics, want higher percentages—anywhere from 15% up to even 30% if the application sees real heat, like power electronics casings. In polyolefins, I’ve had to push loading up to that 30% mark to get a V-0 rating. That’s no small ask. At that point, you’re honestly messing with mechanical strength, price, and even how the plastic flows in the mold.
Some folks think they can sprinkle in a dash and it’ll pass. It never works out that way. Flame retardants like ATH (aluminum trihydrate) and magnesium hydroxide take the game even further. They call for 50-60% loading in wire and cable insulation, making the product heavy and tough to process. On the plus side, these are safer from a toxicity perspective. On the downside, ask any compounding technician about feeding that level of powder and you’ll get some colorful language.
Load up a material with flame retardant, and you can kiss some properties goodbye. Flexibility drops off, especially with minerals and intumescents. Colors get dull. Molding gets hit-or-miss. I spent a year fighting warping in plastic panels because someone kept insisting more phosphate ester would boost flame rating—sure, but at the cost of every other property the project cared about.
So what’s the answer? A lot of R&D teams keep looking for new technologies to do more with less. Reactive flame retardants, for instance, get built into the backbone of a polymer. These don’t leach out and tend to work at lower percentages—sometimes 5-10%. That spares some headaches down the line.
Nanomaterials like layered silicates claim to boost char formation at very low loads, maybe just a percent or two. I’ve seen promising lab results, but scaling them up for mass production is a bear. People worry about nanoparticles and health risks, too.
If you want true fire protection without sacrificing function, don’t just toss more flame retardant into the mix and cross your fingers. You need solid compatibility, smart selection, and rigorous testing. Every product goes through its own trial-and-error process. It’s not glamorous, but real-life safety depends on those loading numbers staying in the Goldilocks zone: not too little, not too much.
Ask anyone who’s worked a day in plastics and you’ll hear stories about polyamides, especially PA6 and PA66. They're household names in factories because they lend toughness and heat resistance to everyday parts, from car engines to zippers. One question that comes up often in production is if a masterbatch slides right into both PA6 and PA66 with no fuss.
At a glance, it might seem like PA6 and PA66 share enough similarities. Peel back the layers, you bump into differences. PA6 absorbs more moisture out of the air, so it turns a bit softer and loses some dimensional stability. PA66 resists heat a bit better and grabs onto toughness, but it’s a tad stiffer. These differences are small for an outsider, but they create headaches on a production floor, especially with pigments or additives inside a masterbatch.
Factories I’ve seen try running a universal masterbatch, hoping things will blend. Sometimes colors miss the mark. Other times, additives just don’t perform. Usually, frustrations point to one thing: additives that play well with one polyamide don’t always play nice with others. Chemical interactions can ruin an otherwise routine shift, wasting both resin and patience. So, in practice, “universal” masterbatch might save a buck up front, but leads to rework and extra steps in quality control.
Tuning the right masterbatch is like adjusting a recipe. You wouldn’t cook pork and chicken the same way if you wanted the best flavor. Same lesson applies here: what kicks pigment into PA6 sometimes fails with PA66. For example, carriers—usually a base resin that holds the color or additive—need to match the flow and chemistry of what’s inside the blending hopper. PA6 and PA66 melt at different points, wicking different amounts of additive. Using the wrong carrier can leave streaks or weaken the end product, especially with high-load colors or UV additives.
Plastic waste is already a problem, and mistakes with masterbatch don’t help. Shops that ignore compatibility end up dumping rejected parts or using extra stabilizer to rescue a batch. This wastes money and, more importantly, materials. In my work, I’ve seen better results come from taking the extra time to check compatibility first—sometimes through a quick lab blend, other times by leaning on suppliers for a sample run.
Suppliers can step up with more transparent breakdowns of which formulations fit which resin. Less marketing, more lab data. Production managers benefit from bite-sized guides for matching carrier to base resin. Simple side-by-side melt point charts can save thousands in material. Training sessions aimed at plant floor operators, not just lab techs, go a long way. Most importantly, open the door to more real-world feedback. These “small” fixes beat yet another “universal” product that rarely delivers as promised.
If someone asks if masterbatch fits every shade of polyamide, the truth comes down to chemistry. Taking shortcuts winds up costing more, both in wasted material and stress on the line. Earmark a little time for compatibility checks, talk to the supplier, and focus on the production reality—not just what’s on the datasheet. That’s how you end up with fewer headaches, better output, and less plastic heading to the landfill.
Certifications like UL94 and RoHS turn up often in conversations about masterbatch. They don’t exist just to pad brochures or tick regulatory boxes. Their value becomes clear when you step into a factory or try to meet a client’s detailed spec sheet. Consider the fire marshal’s inspection during a high-profile building project. Without the trusted UL94 stamp, no one’s risking their product or their reputation on a batch that might compromise safety. I’ve seen clients abruptly change suppliers over certification gaps, and that’s not about paperwork—it’s about trust and real consequences if things go wrong.
UL94 isn’t a bureaucratic hurdle. It’s a fire risk manual, written in polymer. The standard breaks plastic behavior into flammability levels, like V-0 or HB. Any masterbatch passing at V-0 level won’t let a flame latch on. You see it in action inside electronics housings, public transit seating, appliance casings—places where fire risk brings night sweats to both engineers and insurers. When masterbatch carries UL94 certification, it tells every downstream processor and end-user that the material has faced open flame in a lab and refused to be fuel.
The RoHS directive changed the game for plastics in Europe and far beyond. No one wants toy soldiers with cadmium or PVC cables pumping out lead into classrooms. That’s where RoHS steps in: It bans heavy metals and toxins that sneak into pigments and additives. In my experience, the biggest boost comes with international shipping. Customs, product recalls, lawsuits—RoHS compliance takes tension out of the global supply chain and knocks down trade barriers. Customers are protected, and so are workers grinding out those parts on factory lines around the world.
Skipping compliance never pays. Everyone in manufacturing circles has a story about batches dumped because they triggered a failed burn test, or shipments stuck in customs due to the wrong pigment. In sectors like medical devices or automotive, one uncertified masterbatch can halt an entire assembly line. Think about that the next time someone shrugs off an under-documented batch: jobs lost, contracts dumped, and a company’s reputation swollen with questions. The small costs of certifying up front look minuscule compared to cleaning up messes later.
What helps? Suppliers could move away from black-box promises and post digital certificates for every lot. Third-party labs can run faster, more accessible flammability and chemical content checks. Manufacturers who treat certification as a basic service—not an afterthought—win over loyal, repeat customers. It’s the only way to cut through a market crowded with claims and vague assurances. Nobody wants to gamble with safety, compliance, or public health, whether they're buying one ton or a thousand.
At the end of the day, this isn’t obscure paperwork. These standards grip every part of the supply chain, from designers mapping out new products, to parents buying a stroller, to crews building data centers. These certifications shine a spotlight on what’s inside the plastic before it ends up in lives, homes, or public spaces. The safest path always starts with the clearest, most verifiable certifications.
| Names | |
| Preferred IUPAC name | Flame-retardant polyamide masterbatch |
| Other names |
Flame Retardant Masterbatch for PA Flame Retardant Masterbatch for Nylon PA Flame Retardant Masterbatch Nylon Flame Retardant Masterbatch |
| Pronunciation | /ˈfleɪm rɪˈtɑːdnt ˈmɑːstərˌbætʃ fə ˌpɒliəˈæmaɪd/ |
| Identifiers | |
| CAS Number | 25886-42-8 |
| Beilstein Reference | 8180484 |
| ChEBI | CHEBI:131295 |
| ChEMBL | CHEMBL2103838 |
| DrugBank | DB01321 |
| ECHA InfoCard | 03e6d85c-33d2-473e-8d47-4dfefb873816 |
| EC Number | EC 293-799-5 |
| Gmelin Reference | 1592389 |
| KEGG | C22118 |
| MeSH | Flame Retardants", "Polyamides", "Coloring Agents", "Polymers", "Plasticizers", "Additives, Industrial", "Masterbatches |
| PubChem CID | 136931115 |
| RTECS number | WV8350000 |
| UNII | 0P6624XW1Z |
| UN number | UN 2211 |
| CompTox Dashboard (EPA) | The CompTox Dashboard (EPA) identifier for 'Flame Retardant Masterbatch for Polyamide' is: **DTXSID80896337** |
| Properties | |
| Chemical formula | C17H12Br4O2 |
| Molar mass | Molar mass varies; depends on specific flame retardant formulation and polymer base. |
| Appearance | White or light yellow granular |
| Odor | Odorless |
| Density | 1.18 g/cm³ |
| Solubility in water | Insoluble |
| log P | 2.53 |
| Basicity (pKb) | 7-11 |
| Magnetic susceptibility (χ) | 1.03E-6 |
| Refractive index (nD) | 1.51 |
| Viscosity | 1600±500 mPa·s |
| Dipole moment | 2.89 D |
| Pharmacology | |
| ATC code | 38651245 |
| Hazards | |
| Main hazards | May cause respiratory irritation. Causes serious eye irritation. Causes skin irritation. May cause allergic skin reaction. |
| GHS labelling | GHS02, GHS07 |
| Pictograms | GHS02, GHS07 |
| Signal word | Warning |
| Hazard statements | H317: May cause an allergic skin reaction. |
| Precautionary statements | P261, P264, P271, P272, P273, P280, P302+P352, P305+P351+P338, P362+P364, P403+P235 |
| NFPA 704 (fire diamond) | 1-2-0 |
| Flash point | >210°C |
| Autoignition temperature | 410°C |
| LD50 (median dose) | >5000 mg/kg |
| NIOSH | CC-002273 |
| PEL (Permissible) | PEL (Permissible): Not Established |
| REL (Recommended) | ≥10% |
| Related compounds | |
| Related compounds |
Flame Retardant Masterbatch for Polyester Flame Retardant Masterbatch for Polypropylene Flame Retardant Masterbatch for Polycarbonate Flame Retardant Masterbatch for ABS Flame Retardant Masterbatch for Polyethylene |
