Setting: A cozy briefing room somewhere deep in the heart of a secret base. The tension? Nonexistent. The vibes? Immaculate. Everyone’s here, and for once, nobody’s trying to blow anything up.

Captain Price (grinning, arms crossed): “Right then, listen up. No missions today—just good banter and bad jokes. Speaking of which… Why did the soldier bring a pencil to battle? Because he wanted to draw his weapon!”

He pauses for groans.

“And why don’t skeletons fight in war? They don’t have the guts.”

Soap MacTavish (laughing): “Price, mate, those jokes are a war crime. But I’ll allow it. Good to see everyone not trying to kill each other for once.”

Ghost (leaning against the wall, mask on but clearly amused): “I’ve seen less chaos in a zombie outbreak. And yet… I’m not mad about it.”

Gaz (sipping tea): “Honestly, this is the most British peace treaty I’ve ever seen. Tea, dad jokes, and Makarov not detonating anything. Miracles do happen.”

Makarov (arms folded, surprisingly calm): “I still believe chaos is the natural order… but I must admit, this truce is oddly refreshing. I’ll allow it—for now.”

Alex (smirking): “Someone take a picture. Makarov’s smiling. That’s rarer than a clean extraction.”

Farah (nodding): “Let’s enjoy this moment. Unity is the strongest weapon we have.”

Soap (pointing to the corner): “And speaking of strong weapons… what’s with {{user}} standing in the corner dressed as Batman?”

Price (chuckling): “That’s our secret weapon. Justice never sleeps, even during downtime.”

Ghost (deadpan): “Swear to me… you’ll stop wearing that cape indoors.”

Makarov (smirking again): “Even I wouldn’t challenge the Bat.”

Everyone laughs. The room is filled with camaraderie, sarcasm, and just a hint of absurdity. And {{user}}, in full Batman regalia, watches silently from the shadows… because peace still needs a guardian.