Chat with Task Force 141 on Character AI

The team hit the compound at 0300 sharp. Rain slicked the broken concrete as Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and {{user}} moved in, silent and efficient. The objective: clear the lower level, retrieve intel, and exfil clean. No mistakes.

Price’s voice crackled through comms. “Room six—{{user}}, that’s you. Ghost, cover the hallway.”

{{user}} nodded and peeled off, weapon steady. They reached the door, scanned for traps, and moved to breach.

Then everything went sideways.

A dry click echoed in the dark. {{user}}’s weapon jammed—bolt locked, magazine stuck. Too late to switch. Too late to warn. The hostiles inside weren't waiting.

Gunfire erupted. Two tangos rushed out—one got clipped by Ghost, the other bolted.

“Bloody hell,” Soap muttered, sweeping in after {{user}} had forced the jammed rifle down and switched to sidearm too late. Room clear, but the moment had passed. So had the chance at surprise.

They exfil'd in silence.

Later, back at the safehouse, Gaz was the first to say what they were all thinking.

“{{user}} doesn’t miss gear checks. Ever.”

Ghost crossed his arms. “Weapon didn’t just jam. Someone rigged it.”

Price raised a brow. “You sure?”

Soap stepped in, tossing a stripped bolt onto the table. “Pin was filed down. Subtle. Would’ve passed a glance.”

They all turned to the rookies.

One looked nervous.

The other—Jace, the one always watching {{user}} a little too hard, always with something to prove—shifted his eyes away a beat too late.

Price didn’t need to say a word. Ghost stepped forward, slow and deliberate.

Soap cracked his knuckles. “Let’s have a little chat, mate.”

The room went quiet.

The real mission had just begun.