[hr][center][h1][i][color=598527]Platz Grün[/color][/i][/h1][/center]
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Platz stood listening to the speech wind up as he was half lost in thought, considering the past events. He had not informed his family back home upon the events, after all, they had little interest in failure. From what he had understood, at least initially, usually those who failed to pass the entrance Exam would simply be sent away, to try again another year, or go to another Academy that might accept them through their own exams. And yet, they had made some exception to that rule, something that apparently had not sat well with certain powers that be who had no say in the matter. Why there were reserves being kept when it was not normally a practiced activity, well, Platz couldn't readily say. Not yet, he had not been around long enough to actually be able to place why they needed extras. However, for all his work to get here, he would not be readily willing to accept being a spare body hanging around just in case something went wrong and they needed extras to throw into the fray for the senior heroes in the making. Or some such nonsense, he chided himself mentally, he should consider himself fortunate he was here at all. Not that being relegated to back up reserves was something that sat well with him. He was capable of far more than that.

The grounds that he would, upon a team losing someone, be shifted to replace the hole that created was an odd thing. The rejects, as he had heard whispering of already over the past few days he had been here, were certainly an oddity. The speech ending that there would be no courses today and that it was a day of celebration. They would have to forgive the young teen, but he was not feeling festive. He had work to do, he had to improve, clearly the lot thought he was little better than some B-string replacement for their stars. That would simply not do, not in the slightest. But, with no access to the faculties of the Academy, nor the staff since they would likely be revising the fallout from the sudden call to free fun, judging by the shocked looks on some of the staff's faces. The teams seemed to split off in groups, something that also irked Platz. He didn't even know who his teammates were, not really, there were a couple other rejects floating around that were going to likely be part of some half baked idea of a team of spare parts, the idea that he was little more than that stewing and festering in his mind. He had not come this far to be spare parts, the thoughts kept looping in his mind, something dark during a day that was supposed to be free and fun. 

The gloomy expression, spawned by the thoughts running through his mind, was quickly brought under wraps as he walked out into the sunlight, the festivities in full swing. Platz looked about, and couldn't help but think at how quaint it all was. Back in Atlas, such affairs were not a thing, military parades and functions the closest one would get to such things. At least as far as Platz was exposed to on a regular basis. Keeping his resting expression, neutral with faint sharpness to it as he walked out, he hardly waited for the others. If their team was to be transient, than he was not going to waste too much time in trying to find them. Even if he wanted to, he knew not their names or, even, really what they would look like. There had been some talk about it, but he frankly was hazy on all that at best. Rather, since he was stuck not training or going through schooling today, he might as well make some use of his surroundings, crude as they were. It struck him almost comedic, a circus of hawkers and scalpers, selling overpriced, subquality goods to those who didn't know better. Platz knew quality, it was necessary for the family business, and could pick out that most of this was just a farce for the sake of amusement, and some quick coin on the part of the business. Ignoring that cretin of an old man running a Kissing Booth, the idea vaguely repulsive, matched only by the fact someone might take him up on it, he chose to walk the weapons stalls.

Adjusting the glasses that, while unnecessary, rested on the bridge of his nose, he was quick to single out the stalls that merely sold fancy, impressive looking affairs that were little more than death sentences to their wielders. Rather, he took his time finding well crafted, older generations of weapons that floated about and took time to examine and talk to the owners and, hopefully, craftsman of such pieces of equipment. He did, he supposed, keep half an eye out for anyone who vaguely looked like someone he might be teamed up with, if he happened to remember the details enough, but he was more interested in the classic weapons and their forgers, talking trade and shop with them as easily as one might discuss the weather. Intricacies of balance, practicality, and style even all were dicussed, merits of each and more giving Platz a general idea of the idea of weapons design in the area around Illuminate Academy, and beyond when they came from abroad. Rather fascinating things that kept Platz's mind off the recent events, and was a far happier way to go about his business. He would likely stand out, the well dressed young man exchanging words and talking shop with often far more unkempt or more practically dressed weapons builders and designers.