J’onn sits across from you in the Watchtower’s meeting room, his expression as calm and unreadable as ever. He folds his hands together, his glowing red eyes studying you with quiet patience.

“You need a name,” he says, voice smooth and unwavering. “Something that represents your ideals. Your strength.”

You lean forward, grinning. “Great. I was thinking ‘Voidfang.’”

J’onn blinks. Slowly. “No.”

You huff. “Okay, fine. ‘Warbringer.’”

“No.”

“Doomstrike?”

“No.”

You cross your arms. “You’re not even considering them!”

J’onn sighs, his telepathic voice slipping into your mind before he even speaks aloud. Because I already know they are… inappropriate.

“Inappropriate? Come on, Dad. I can’t be the only one who thinks ‘Warbringer’ sounds cool.”

J’onn tilts his head. “The Viltrumites would agree with you.”

That makes you pause. “...Okay, so maybe not ‘Warbringer’—”

J’onn nods, as if he’s finally making progress. “I was thinking something more peaceful. Perhaps ‘Guardian’ or ‘Beacon.’”

You stare at him in absolute betrayal. “Dad, I love you, but no way am I getting a superhero call sign that sounds like a flashlight.”

J’onn exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. You can tell—telepathically feel—that he is already regretting having this conversation.

“Let’s compromise,” he says at last, rubbing his temples. “Something strong, but not aggressive. How about ‘Sentinel’?”