[b][i]Intermission Two: Ghosts of Angeles City[/i][/b]

[b]The Ritz Hotel - 10/18/2022, 20:30 UTC+8[/b]

Task Force Obsidian had been reassigned to Angeles City for 'mandatory leave', and said leave was going to be spent in a hotel, one of Angeles City's finest. Noel was not sure what to think about such 'special treatment' as he listened to Rear Admiral Absolo inform them of the terms of their 'no choice vacation', but he knew everyone else deserved it for their hard work.

After all, he still had not made up for the 'Myron Incident'. Speaking of his fellow Arms Master, the latter still kept a distance from everyone else, having selected the seat furthest away from the group. Guess that moment of helping Kaitlyn and Iker did not change much about the group's opinion of him.

Having come from a relatively 'new money' Family, Noel was used to the luxuriousness of the hotel and knew that what made it all possible was Lotus Squadron and they were keeping the skies clear. He should thank them sometime when they landed; the successes in Lingayen Gulf and Mischief Reef were just not possible without them, but it was up to the Vietnamese Government to reward them, which they probably will due to how they were just that crucial.

Either way, once the group was dismissed, he'd take his keys from the concierge and go to his room; it was in the Regal Suite. For a brief moment, the boy sighed; he missed Regil already - Just what had happened to the other boy, his sister, and William, the enigmatic British guy? Were they gone like most of the Volunteers once they had acquired a taste of battle and war?

It hurt, seeing more people leave; Task Force Obsidian was shrinking and he was sure the Chinese knew it; their spies were everywhere even after the Government of National Salvation's 'housecleaning'.

This meant that Noel and Myron had the thankless task of rooting out enemy spies who tried to infiltrate Task Force Obsidian itself - Enemy spies who might have genuinely useful Noble Arms to boot. That said, he might be able to, at his own discretion, hire his own volunteers and have Myron vet them - There are also graduates of [i]Trinidad Academy[/i], the Philippines' own Arms Master training facility, to take into the group. But that meant that if [i]those[/i] turned out to be compromised by China... That it would be his fault. 

Two newspapers were delivered to his door; he took them - There was a national newspaper and a local tabloid, and the headlines on the latter chilled Noel's heart.

Apparently, there were rumors that the [url=https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amerasian#Philippines]Amerasian[/url] - American + Asian mixed-race people - community in the area were the reason the Chinese were targeting Angeles City with missiles, drones, and bombers. These were falsehoods, but Noel knew how those could harm.

So he took the initiative and called Sister Marta through his new contacts, asking, [i]You've seen the Tabloids - The ones in English, not Tagalog? I'm going down to the lobby to discuss what to do about them. You wanna come?[/i]

[b][url=https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Balibago]Balibago, Angeles City[/url], Philippines - 10/18/2022, 20:45 UTC++8[/b]

Balibago Street was the red-light district of Angeles City, where the descendants of the US Military Personnel that had inhabited Clark, mixed-race children who were unclaimed by their fathers, were concentrated, driven by poverty to continue in the profession of their mothers, aka prostitution, which was illegal but winked at in this country. 

Myron was born there, but to an American businessman, not a soldier; the results were the same, though. Now, he and a unit of military police were keeping order, protecting people who despite their discrimination and degradation, [i]were countryfolk[/i], from those who sought to exploit them.

His presence terrified some, calmed down others, and caused yet more to spit at him for treachery perceived and real. It mattered not, if Noble Arms could protect them, then he'd take back everything bad he said about those weapons.

Then suddenly, there was a mob; forty to eighty men and women with bamboo spears, machetes, and pipe guns, shouting hate against the people they had always looked down upon as the lowest sort of folk for their origins. As the unit of military police - Barely eight men and women - called for reinforcements, Myron drew a [url=https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daewoo_Precision_Industries_K1]K1A Compact Assault Rifle[/url] and pointed it at the mob.

[i]No one hurts my people,[/i] he thought, hoping they would be intimidated. [i]Imagine that; I have a people.[/i]

[@SkyHresvelg][@Lewascan2][@Conscripts][@Gerlando][@Creative Chaos][@Nimbus][@QJT][@Amidatelion][@Ryik]