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The worst part was how composed Godolkin remained when he was in one of his moods. Never shouted, never raised his voice even by an octave. But the G-Men knew him too well. When Godolkin was acting like this, it wasn’t uncommon that he’d call upon them to help ease his distress. Other times though, one of the kids was volunteered. Silver was usually the sacrificial lamb back when she’d been with them. She was Godolkin’s favourite, after all. The boys pressuring her probably didn’t help much either. Divine imagined that being the youngest of them and a girl probably also played a role. Divine had once snarked to Five-Oh that that was the reason why Silver wouldn’t fuck him, which obviously pissed him off.
The catalyst for Godolkin’s current bemoaning was the same as it always was: Vought putting their foot down on something he’d wanted. Most of the time Vought was like an indulgent parent giving their child whatever they asked for because it was easier than arguing with them. Probably because the G-Men were major money-makers. Still, every now and then someone at Vought would refuse his requests, though out of financial perseveration as opposed to any kind of moral opposition.
Cold Snap sighed. “So… who’s it going to be this time?”
”Probably his newest collection.”
Cold Snap grimaced at Divine’s (accurate) choice of words. “Come one, don’t say it like that. I mean, jeez, these are kids we’re talking about.”
”I’m not any happier about than you are, obviously.” Divine acknowledged Cold Snap didn’t deserve the touch of irritancy his response had.
”Well, if you ask me,” Five-Oh said, taking a sip of his soda. They had alcohol, of course, but Godolkin had restrictions for how much they could drink during the day, and at the moment they didn’t particularly feel like afflicting him further. “What’s-his-name from G-Wiz doesn’t seem like such a bad option.”
At this, Divine rolled his eyes. G-Wiz were idiots, nobody was saying anything to the contrary, but they knew what Godolkin was like. Divine doubted they would let anything happen to their newest member.
“Bagpipe? Don’t be like that, Five-Oh. The guy’s just got here!” Cold Snaps scolded.
“Yeah, well, he’s got to learn what it’s like to be apart of the team.”
”You’re gross,” Divine muttered.
His remark, of course, earned a glare from Five-Oh. “Don’t talk to me about gross, faggot,” he said with a snarl.
”Get better material,” Divine said simply.
Five-Oh flipped him the middle finger like a high school boy who can’t win a fight. Another sigh came from Cold Snap, shaking his head in parental disproval.
”Let’s get back on topic. If it’s not one of us, and it usually is, it’ll be the pre-wiz.”
It was Divine’s turn to sigh. “So it has to be one of us.” The finality of the statement didn’t make it any easier to accept, even though they already knew.
”Europo’d probably bite his dick off,” Five-Oh mused.
”Right. As appealing as that idea is, Godolkin might actually be somewhat scared of him,” Divine pointed out. After all, everyone was a bit freaked out by Europo.
”Well, any bright ideas, genius?” Snarked Five-Oh.
Divine wasn’t fooled by Five-Oh’s demeanour; he knew he was more bothered by this than he let on. They’d known each other for a long time and besides, the man was far from a good actor.
”Maybe he won’t be in the mood for that this time,” Cold Snap offered unhelpfully.
”Yes, but it’s not much better when he isn’t. Then he gets… creative.” Five-Oh stared down at his drink. For a moment, Divine entertained the idea of a world where he said something comforting, but that wasn’t the world the G-Men lived in.
”I’ll go deal with him,” Divine told them.
Cold Snap gave him a concerned look but didn’t protest. For once, Five-Oh had no riveting commentary to provide regarding Divine sexuality. He just nodded.
Godolkin was in his office. A glass of wine on his desk was accompanied by scattered paperwork. Considering how much Godolkin prioritised organisation (organisation, family), Divine doubted the disarray was a good sign. When he came in through the door, Godolkin didn’t stir. He knew that he was here, of course.
”Divine, what a pleasant surprise.” Godolkin kept his attention to himself, not sparing it for Devine. It was deliberate, an assertion of his authority. One that shouldn’t still work on him. He wasn’t a little boy anymore.
Divine put on his best sugary tone. “Is everything alright, mister Godolkin?” He asked.
Mister Godolkin, what are you doing?
“I’m afraid not.” Godolkin sighed. “It appears that once again Vought is taking our monetary contributions for granted.”
Translation: they didn’t want another Nubia on their hands and Godolkin decided to sulk about it in his office. It’d be almost amusing how childish the man was if it weren’t for… well, everything.
”Ah, where are my manners? Please, take a seat. It’s been some time since we’ve spoken in informal circumstances.”
Yes, that had been very much deliberate on Divine’s part.
Divine sat down. He had no doubt that Godolkin knew the reason for his presence. It’d long been an expectation that the G-Men take care of their leader whenever he ailed. He’d given them so much, it was only natural that they give something back.
“Wine?” He offered
”What’s the occasion?” Divine jested.
Godolkin’s mouth curved into a smile at the joke. “Why, my dear boy, must there need be any?”
He went over to his wine cabinet (who else would have a wine cabinet in his office but John Godolkin?). Divine suspected it was primarily an aesthetic feature as the man wasn’t much of a drinker. Godolkin’s reasoning for that was it was part of his responsibility as a patriarchal role model. Divine could think of a few other explanations.
Divine gave his shoulders a shrug. “Well, suppose it’s five’o clock somewhere.”
Godolkin laughed. “Indeed.”
A part of Divine felt a misplaced pride in the fact he’d done something to warrant a positive reaction.
”So,” Godolkin began as he poured Divine a glass. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
He was drawing this out on purpose, Divine thought, in part because he had no idea what to do if the man was actually being cordial. It would almost be a relief if he’d spiked Divine’s drink. Unfortunately he wouldn’t grant him that privilege.
“I wanted to talk about the Pre-Wiz.”
Honestly Divine didn’t want to even think about the Pre-Wiz, but there was no denying they were why he’d come here. Look at him stepping up to the task, going through with it so those kids, for now, wouldn’t suffer like they did. Like he was a real superhero.
Godolkin raised his eyebrow. “I see.”
The vagueness in Godolkin’s words invoked a childish fear that Divine had done something wrong. Nonetheless, he continued (after a particularly lengthy sip of alcohol, that is).
”How many of them are there now?” Divine asked.
Have you done anything to them yet?
“I take it you share the concerns of your colleagues. Would I be correct?”
Godolkin’s tone, while pleasant, was unmistakably calculated, as was every word he spoke. Everything he did he did for your sake. Always remember that.
”More of less.” Which wasn’t a lie. With Godolkin consistently bringing in new additions it was getting harder and harder to keep up the charade. Especially when Vought had made it clear their patience for Godolkin was waning.
”To answer your original question, there are now eight members of the Pre-Wiz.” Of course, he just had to add: “Eight new members of our family.”
And like every other member of the “family”, they would never get away.
Divine had to physically restrain from himself from grimacing. Godolkin noticed. He always did. Fortunately, he must have been feeling something resembling merciful and didn’t not broach the subject.
He decided to throw away all subtlety. He just wanted to get this over with. Of course, a horrifying part of his mind wondered if maybe, just maybe, he didn’t actually have to do anything. Maybe it wasn’t what Godolkin was expecting from him this time.
Don’t fret, my dear. I promise not to hurt you
He moved slow, subtle, like an actor without the grace. Divine felt his skin burn at the way the older man eyed him like prey. It was a performance and Godolkin was determined to make him miss a step.
”You’re stressed,” he said, his voice a low purr. “Perhaps I can help you take your mind off it?.”
“Hmm, and what would that entail?”
Divine couldn’t tell if Godolkin’s smile was real. It was always the same, always placid, inviting but never warm.
”You’ve said it yourself, it’s been some time since we’ve been personal.”
To emphasise his point, Divine gave a flick of his wrist. Tacky but it seemed to catch the man’s attention.
It’d been a while since Divine had done this. His hands had to be graceful, he couldn’t apply too much pressure. Can’t hurt him the way he’s hurt you . Frustratingly, his touch didn’t warrant a reaction. Obviously Divine would have preferred for Godolkin not to derive any enjoyment from this at all, but he’d appreciate some response to his efforts. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was intentionally prolonging this.
Godolkin didn’t take his gaze from Divine. If you were unfamiliar with Godolkin, you’d mistake the look in his eyes for disinterest. Divine himself, despite knowing better, couldn’t help mentally agonising over his lack of reaction.
I’m degrading myself for you. Is that not enough? Do I have to get down on my knees and beg in order to mean something to you. To be enough for you?
His wrist was starting to hurt yet the thought of stopping didn’t cross his mind. It was of some relief that Godolkin’s age meant this wouldn’t have to last much longer. At the very least, it prevented Divine from half-assessing his efforts.
Throughout the entirety of this, Godolkin hadn’t as much as made a sound. Divine thought that maybe he’d be spared Godolkn’s words.
Then Godolkin decided to rub salt in the wound.
”That’s my boy.”
Divine’s heart sank.