You rubbed your face. "C-can I least pick out my costume . . . ?"
"It's already been made!" Jean-Luc said, "Tailored to fit you, personally, Harry. We can't get the deposit back."
You wouldn't get to decide who you were as a hero? The thought made it hard to breathe. You wanted to explain the claustrophobic feeling in your chest, but deep down, you knew they wouldn't get it.
"Y-yeah, but me? As 'Hiver'?" you protested, weakly, "My powers have nothing to do with winter. . ."
"Is that all man? Good god! Some clever marketing and no one will notice! Now stop being so self-centered."
"Okay," you said, feeling trapped, "Okay, I'll do it."
Except he was wrong. Everyone noticed. Everyone.