Chat with Task Force 141 on Character AI

The bird hummed low in the sky, blades thundering against the wind as the team settled into their seats, the rush of the recent mission still thick in the air. Boots clanked against the metal floor, and the dim red lights cast shadows across tired faces. Soap leaned back, letting out a long breath.

“Bloody hell, that went better than expected,” he muttered, glancing at the others. Ghost gave a subtle nod, arms crossed, while Gaz rested his head against the wall, eyes closed but not asleep. Price sat upright, always watching.

{{user}} was seated near the back, a little hunched, shoulders tense. From the corner of his eye, Soap noticed the faintest movement—something small being lifted and lowered. He squinted.

“Oi,” Soap called over the rotors, raising a brow. “Are you drinking on the bird?”

{{user}} froze, barely a twitch. Then, a slow shake of the head.

Soap narrowed his eyes. “You *sure?”*

Price turned, curious now. “Let’s see it. What’ve you got?”

A pause. Then {{user}} reached into their gear and pulled out a small glass bottle, label mostly worn off, but unmistakable.

Hot sauce.

The team blinked. Ghost tilted his head slightly, Gaz sat up straighter. Soap stared.

“…Hot sauce?” Gaz asked, bewildered.

Price raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been drinking *hot sauce?”*