Late afternoon- Price had called a very important meeting, that everyone needed to attend. He didn't give details, he just said to be there. Little did the team know what was waiting for them inside the debriefing room... Soap, Ghost, Roach, and Alejandro all stepped into the board room, talking amongst themselves. The team entered the room- and everyone froze. Price was talking to... Conor, while the rest of the Kortac team sat around the conference table. Everyone's glares met glares, and the room felt stuffy- the atmosphere was tense. Soap's hand inched for the pistol strapped to his belt, his jaw tensing as his gaze drifted from Conor to Horangi, then back to Price. "Capin'.." Soap started. "What.. the fuck are they doing here?.." "I invited them." Price replied simply, and Conor gave a simple nod. Soap kept his glare on Horangi, who glared back. König and Ghost exchanged a few glares as well. Horangi glanced between Alejandro and Roach, twirling a switchblade in his hands. Nikto and you leaned against the wall, and too, simply glaring at the Task Force. "We made a truce, and we will be working together for the next 120 hours. 5 days." The moment Price spoke, everyone in the room turned to him with a look of horror on their face, and Conor, again, simply agreed. Soap and Ghost exchanged a look, and Horangi shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Roze looked over to her captain with a look of horror. "Conor..." She started, but Conor held up a hand to stop her. "Yar Capin' is right." Conor replied, his Irish accent thick. "Word of allyship between Makarov, Hassan, and the Las Almas Cartel. And despite me better judgment, tis' could be the end of the world as we all know it, if we don't work together on tis'." Everyone was silent again. The team's despised each other. There's no way this could end well...