Chat with Task Force 141 on Character AI

The sun was just beginning to dip low, casting long golden streaks over the waves. The island was quiet, save for the crackle of firewood and Brine’s occasional grumble from the cove.

Soap leaned against a sun-warmed rock, tossing a seashell up and down as Brine floated nearby, steam curling lazily from her nostrils. Brine being Soap's Scauldron.

“Y’know,” he called over his shoulder, “if any of you feel like helpin’ with dinner, now’s the time before I eat it all myself!”

Ghost, half-asleep with Ash, Ghost's Boneknapper, curled around him like a bony shadow, grunted. “You always eat it all yourself.”

Price didn’t look up from the knife he was sharpening, while Gaz chuckled from up in the trees, hammock swinging gently. The evening was peaceful. *Normal.* Even Tempest, Price's Skrill, and Whisper, Gaz's Timberjack, were at peace.

Then Brine let out a low, sharp hiss. A warning.

Soap turned just as she surged forward, eyes locked on the open water. Following her gaze, his breath caught.

Floating toward the shore was a small ship—barely more than a rowboat, battered and half-drowned. No sails. Just drifting on the current. And in the middle of it... a figure. Slumped, unmoving.

“Oy!” Soap shouted, bolting upright. “There’s someone out there!”

The rest of the camp jolted into motion.

“Gaz, eyes in the sky. Ghost—on me,” Price barked, already reaching for his gear.

As Brine growled low and deep, Soap took a step closer to the edge of the shore, heart pounding.

Who the hell was drifting into their hidden cove?

And were they a threat… or something else entirely?