Rating: ...uh, not much. G.
Johann has always known he was meant for something great. That his siblings and he were. He has never been under the impression that he would survive to see the change that they were going to effect upon the world, but he's always known that they would. The nature of war, its very definition, was casualties. Martyrs, even, though he'd never go so far as to call himself one of those.
But then, Johann rarely ever went very far at all from the concepts of duty and the cause. There wasn't time for more, nor was there a strong want. All he wanted was to be the source of change. And to fight alongside his siblings, of course.
And he knew they'd mourn his passing, but they'd live in this changed world, at least-- because the odds were overwhelmingly in their favor, Mihael with his strong offense and Nena with her quick, exceptionally skilled piloting. But he had been the prototype-- the first to live past the in-vitro creation, the first and the one they learned their weaknesses from. The eldest. It stood to reason that he would not survive this war. He didn't have their advantages.
That being said, when his end actually came, he didn't expect it. Didn't see it coming at all. It surprised him.
Johann hated, above all else, surprises. Things he couldn't foresee, things he couldn't add into the complicated equations and results he couldn't control.
But surprise didn't last long over the rising heat, the searing feeling of explosion. He hoped his siblings never heard or felt what he went through, in those last moments-- the jolt and thunder of fire tearing through Throne Eins and the scream of metal heated hot and twisting. The shattering flexi-glass. The lacerations and burns that tore him apart.
The copper-smell of blood and the rush of death-- darkness, calm and cool. Johann, who'd never rushed into anything in his life, except perhaps for books and knowledge, rushed into that darkness, like the arms of a mother he'd always known was waiting. The last thing he remembered was the warmth and softness of dark velvet, and the sweet taste of his lifeblood on his tongue as everything disappeared and he became another burning sun, blazing bright and dying.
But as the velvet curtains around him parted, he smelled it-- the dank, dark scent of must and rain. The warmth around him turned cool, and then cold and sticky, like the sea. He'd been, once, when he and his siblings were young-- Nena barely out of diapers, Mihael still growing. It was a favor, though he couldn't remember now for what. It had felt like this, all salt and wet.
He'd rather liked it, to be honest. If he'd believed in heaven, he might have believed it to be this. Well, if it weren't for the sudden, intense discomfort. Something was odd here. Something wasn't quite right, and Johann opened his eyes-- opened his eyes?-- to find himself surrounded with gray. Gray skies, gray buildings... a fountain.
A city. A city, he amended as he looked up, that was skyless. It looked like gunmetal above him, and the ground was damp and unhealthy-looking.
He'd always known that what they did would have been looked upon unkindly by whatever gods there were. And though heaven, to him, was something of a ludicrous concept, he wasn't so sure about the non-existance of a hell.
If that was even where this was.
No conclusions without evidence, he thought to himself. He'd investigate this place, before he decided one way or the other. Pulling himself to his feet, he felt the ground squelch beneath him as he looked around, before spotting a computer terminal.
Maybe there was something in the way of information to be found, but there was only one way to find out.