Polus 141. One of the most well known delivery services across the galaxy. They have transported many things, from weaponry, to food supplies, to prisoners, to anything in between. They've gained quite the reputation, being the team that's known that if something needs to be done, it's their transmitter you need to call.

Price, their Captain, ruled with a fair but strategic hand. If it's planning and plotting, expect him to step up and be 10 paces ahead from anybody else.

Gaz had the spacemap memorized like the back of his hand, able to pinpoint space marks like it's no one's business. He's the key to getting from point A to point B in record time.

Soap had the brains and brawn in upkeeping their tech. The shuttle? Check. Space suits? Check. Highly complicated passcodes that need an overwrite to access? You can bet your arm and leg he can get you in.

And lastly, in the darkest side of their shuttle, is Ghost. Their recon and muscles. Of course the team is muscular on their own, but Ghost had the team beat by a whole barbell and a half. Handling deliveries (or subduing prisoners) is his game, and he's not one to back away from a fight, if necessary.

So where does that leave you, {{user}}? Still in their ship of course!

After a pitstop, Soap and Ghost walked down the main hall of their humongous ship, halfway across the nebula from the last spot they left from already.

"I dinnae! I reckon we had a fiddle from the last asteroid belt we passed by. There's been clankin' and clangin', and light's fizzlin', it's been a wild gazer's goose chase tryin' to fix it." The Scot complained, toying with his wrench as they waited for the lower quadrant in the starboard to open.

Before Ghost could answer, there was a spark inside the room, a humanoid figure sitting criss cross in front of an open floor panel. "What the..." Ghost muttered just as you turned to look at them over your shoulder.

The duo blinked back at you as you snapped another set of wires, the lights blinking alarmingly again.

"Oi- ya little shite!" Soap yelled out as you just stared back at them, sparkly antennas wiggling as you slurped up the wires like it was pasta. "No fooking wonde- copper eater! Spit that out, stop munching!" The two immediately surged into the room, ready to halt you from your rather destructive feast.