[Kara's Apartment — August 2017, 7:15 PM]
The whiteboard had become a battlefield.
Winn stood before it like a general commanding troops, marker in hand, gesturing at the collection of rejected hero names scrawled across its surface. "Okay, okay, I hear the concerns about 'Daxam-Man.' It's derivative. It references the invasion. Bad PR. Moving on."
"It's not just bad PR," Alex said from her position on the couch, beer in hand. "It sounds like a rejected action figure."
"That's... fair." Winn crossed out the name with aggressive strokes. "What about 'The Adapter'? His powers literally adapt to threats. It's scientific. It's accurate."
"It sounds like a USB accessory," Mon-El said.
"A what?"
"Something Kara explained to me. Little plug things." He gestured vaguely. "The point is, it doesn't feel like a name. It feels like a description."
Winn deflated slightly but rallied. "Fine. Fine! Captain Survival?"
Universal groans filled the apartment.
"I'm just brainstorming!" Winn threw up his hands. "Someone else can contribute ideas if my creative genius isn't appreciated."
The evening had begun as a casual gathering—team bonding after weeks of crisis. But somewhere between the takeout containers and the third round of drinks, the conversation had shifted to the question everyone had been avoiding: what to call National City's newest hero.
Mon-El sat in the armchair by the window, nursing a drink that did nothing for him physiologically but felt comforting in his hands. The past week had been a blur of patrols and interviews and the slow work of building a public identity. But every time someone asked his name—every time a reporter shouted a question or a child approached for an autograph—he'd hesitated.
"Mon-El" was his birth name, given by Rhea, carrying the weight of Daxamite royalty and everything that entailed. "Mike Matthews" was a cover identity, useful but hollow. Neither felt right for who he was becoming.
"What about something from Daxamite mythology?" Kara suggested. She was curled on the opposite end of the couch from Alex, her feet tucked beneath her, a container of pot stickers balanced on her knee. "Earth heroes have names from Greek and Roman legends. Maybe there's something similar from your culture."
"Daxamite heroes were... complicated." Mon-El thought about the stories he'd grown up with—tales of conquest and domination, of champions who crushed their enemies and built empires on the bones of the defeated. "Not exactly the image I want to project."
"Then make something new," J'onn said. He'd been quiet throughout most of the discussion, observing from his position near the kitchen, but now he stepped forward. "A name doesn't have to come from your past. It can represent who you're choosing to become."
"That's very philosophical," Winn said. "But also vague. What qualities are we looking for here?"
Silence fell. Mon-El stared at his drink, thinking about everything that had happened—the invasion, his father's death, the impossible choices he'd made. What did he want his name to represent?
"Courage," he said finally. "Not fearlessness—I'm afraid all the time. But acting despite fear. Choosing to do the right thing even when it's hard."
"Bravery," Kara added. "Worth. The quality that makes someone fight for others."
Alex set down her beer. "Valor."
The word hung in the air.
Mon-El tested it in his mind. Valor. Not a title of birth or conquest. Not a description of powers. A statement of character—of who he chose to be, regardless of where he came from.
"My father showed valor," he said slowly. "In the end. He fought through an army to reach me. He died because he chose courage over compliance." A pause. "My mother never did. She had power, intelligence, determination—but never valor. She couldn't understand why anyone would sacrifice for others."
"So it's personal," J'onn observed. "It honors what your father became while rejecting what your mother represented."
"Is that... okay? Using a word that personal as a public identity?"
"The best names are personal." Kara moved closer, her hand finding his. "Superman isn't just a description—it's a statement about what my cousin aspires to be. Supergirl is the same. They're promises we make to the world."
"Valor is a promise," Mon-El said, the word feeling more solid each time he spoke it. "A promise to choose courage. To fight for what's right. To be better than what I was."
Winn was already adding it to the whiteboard—neat letters, no crossing out. "Valor. I like it. It's got weight. It sounds heroic without being corny."
"It needs a symbol," Alex added. "Something visual that captures the concept."
"Growth," Mon-El said, surprising himself. "My powers adapt and evolve. My character does too—or tries to. If valor is about courage, the symbol should be about becoming something better."
"Growth through adversity." Kara's eyes lit up. "Evolution through challenge. That's exactly who you are."
Mon-El looked around the room—at his team, his family, the people who'd helped him become someone worth naming. They'd accepted him when others doubted. Trained him. Trusted him. Stood beside him through invasion and aftermath.
"Valor," he said one final time. "That's who I want to be."
J'onn raised his glass. "To Valor—the hero who chose Earth when his world chose conquest. May you live up to the name."
Everyone drank. Mon-El felt something shift inside him—not dramatic, not a transformation, but a settling. A foundation being laid.
"Now," Winn said, already pivoting to his tablet, "about the suit..."
---
Later, after the others had gone, Mon-El stood on the balcony with Kara, watching the city lights below. The suit designs could wait until tomorrow. Tonight was for quieter things.
"Valor," he said, testing it one more time. "House of El has hope as its symbol. What's Valor's symbol?"
Kara considered. "Growth? Evolution? Something that shows change over time—the journey from what you were to what you've become."
"I like that." He touched his father's ring, warm against his chest. "Something that honors the past while moving forward."
"We'll work on it together." She leaned into him, her warmth familiar and grounding. "You, me, Winn with his design software. It'll be perfect."
"Thank you." The words felt inadequate for everything he meant, but they were what he had. "For all of this. For believing in me when I didn't believe in myself."
"That's what partners do." She kissed his cheek. "Now come inside. We've got a naming to celebrate."
He followed her in, leaving Valor's first night to settle into memory.
Tomorrow, the real work began.
Note:
Please give good reviews and power stones itrings more people and more people means more chapters?
My Patreon is all about exploring 'What If' timelines, and you can get instant access to chapters far ahead of the public release.
Choose your journey:
Timeline Viewer ($6): Get 10 chapters of early access + 5 new chapters weekly.
Timeline Explorer ($9): Jump 15-20 chapters ahead of everyone.
Timeline Keeper ($15): Get Instant Access to chapters the moment I finish writing them. No more waiting.
Read the raw, unfiltered story as it unfolds. Your support makes this possible!
👉 Find it all at patreon.com/Whatif0