"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own any Batman franchise characters. I also don't own Manuel Delgado, I'm simply borrowing him from Beowulfwulf's 'A Psychic Amongst Gotham Psychos'. He just fit this part! Go check him out in that story, and leave a kind review.

AN: Warning. Some racially derogatory terms used for educational purposes.

3 pm

October 31st

Manuel Delgado of Gateway Center for Youth only had two rules. Number one, no illegal substances. Period. You got caught on premises selling drugs or smoking tobacco and you were gone. That's it, done. He'd even call the cops if he had too.

The second rule was everyone is welcome. Well, no sex offenders because that was illegal and stupid as hell, but you get the point. Anyone, everyone, regardless of race or color or gender or beliefs or whatever...even favorite football team. Come in, he'd say, take a load off your feet, stay as long as you like.

It was Halloween, and the fat, friendly Mexican was having the time of his life, shooting photos of all costumes entering, printing them out and posting them on the walls with one of those little Kodak picture printers. Expensive, yeah. But one of the best damn investments he'd made for the center in some time. Kids loved pictures, even the older ones. The goofier, the better.

And there was no doubt fifteen year olds Shaniqua Alberts and Kandi Ryans looked anything but incredibly goofy.

Were they…Trolls? Were they even old enough to remember those things-? But he supposed it fit with the Halloween feminine repetoire of dress as immodestly as possible. With their many thin braids wired into a cone and spray painted, and overlarge belly button piercings on their nearly naked torsos, they looked unmistakenly like that old line of toy.

The girls strolled in, holding hands, laughing and chatting up a storm about which streets to hit up for tonight's festivities. "Yo, girls!" Mani called, chuckling, "Let me get your pictures!"

"Yo, Mani!" Shaniqua Alberts called. "Like our costumes?" Mani just shook his head, as the girls were well aware that many of the young men in the small center had turned their gaze to express their 'like' for their 'costumes' as well.

From behind the coffee counter, seventeen year old Jimmy Connolly's cheeks blushed flaming pink as the girls approached giggling for their picture. "I hate this holiday." He said.

Kevin Santy, an adult volunteer, grinned. "And why's that, Kid?"

"Because." The boy said with special emphasis.

"Because-?" Kevin pressed, hiding a snigger behind the guise of bending and loading the small industrial dishwasher.

"Coffee, girls?" Mani asked, as the duo waited for their picture to print. Coffee at Gateway was always free. Mani's generosity-and his job as a fashion consultant for Gotham Theater and Ballet Company- saw to that.

"Because-" Here Connolly cast a furtive glance to the giggling girls sprawling over the counter to get a better view of their pic, "because girls just use it as an excuse to walk around, you know…" his voice dropped to a horrified whisper. "half-naked."

Shaniqua let out a shriek of laughter, while Kandi just rolled over lusciously and quipped "You seen us, boyfrien'? Cause we be more than half naked!"

Quite uncalled for. But Mani and Kevin couldn't resist bursting into chuckles themselves. The boy's pale face turned a shocking scarlet, but several seconds later even he joined in, shaking his head half-heartedly, then bent to load muffin pans into the hot oven with grease-spattered mitts.

"You girls trick-o-treating for Halloween, or are you staying here to watch the scary movie?" Santy asked, closing the stainless steel washer and setting it to start.

Kandi snorted. "Scary? Hey man, last year you show us a Disney flick!"

Mani laughed good naturedly. Said something about had to be appropriate for all ages.

"Yeah." Joined Shaniqua. "We be goin' out. Weather be nice. An' Gotham City be more than enough scary for one night, yeah?"

"Yeah, Jimmy, you comin' with?" Kandi asked. "What you be?"

"I have to work." He said.

"But what you be? You didn't even dress up for this mornin'?"

"I'm a chef." He gestured to the apron and mitts.

"You so lame." Shaniqua moaned. "Dat costume be so terrible."

"It was free." He shrugged.

"True dat." Kandi laughed, then relaxed her perch from the converted bar counter, slippered feet hitting with a soft whump on the tile below.

"Yo, bitch, where you goin'?" Shaniqua called. Both Delgado and Santy exchanged a look.

"That counter rupture my bladder, ho! Gotta take a piss! Be back m'kay?" She blew a kiss and trotted off to the girl's bathroom, wagging her heart shaped booty as she went.

"Why are you calling her bitch, girl?" Mani asked.

"Because it be funny! Like ho, or niggah. People like to use 'em as bad words so we use 'em as good words, you know?"

Kevin Santy nodded, leaning forward against the counter. "Yeah, yeah I know you might think it's funny, but you're in a relationship with her. You shouldn't be calling her derogatory things. Shouldn't even start."

The teenager rolled dark eyes. "I only call her dat when I ain't mad. We kids like it, but you grown ups you ain't never understand."

"It's a bad habit to start." Kevin countered.

"-but we only call each other dat when we ain't mad!" Shaniqua said exasperatedly.

Connolly's mild voice rang from under the counter, now struggling to replace the large box of economy muffin mix. "I think-" there was a heavy oof-! as the cardboard box landed firmly on the shelf, "what he's trying to say is you might not now, but it'd make it easier. To do later. Like accidentally."

Santy laughed, the seriousness of the moment evaporating. "Yeah, Good one, Kid." He moved behind the bending boy to fetch the now less frustrated girl's latte, playfully smacking the boy's behind on his way. "That's what we're trying to say."

"Hey, stop." The boy whined in protest. "Or you'll be serving me with the next batch of muffins-"

"Okay." She said, rolling her dark eyes again, but less defensive. "I get it." She took a short sip of the steaming liquid, humming in delight. "Mani, you da bomb!"

The hispanic smiled sadly. "You might not think so in a second, honey. We gotta finish this conversation, okay?"

"You don't like it none, we already be done-" the teenager rapped, eliciting a laugh and even a dance from a now standing, flour-coated Connolly.

Kids. They were great. They were so open, so genuine, they would laugh, dance, cry in front of you if they felt comfortable. And that's what this shelter was all about: giving kids a chance to be comfortable. With themselves. With each other. Mani grew up gay in Gotham City, a place big enough to accommodate all sorts of…what was the politically correct term for it now? Alternative lifestyles? But his community wasn't. Raised strict Catholic, threatened, beaten, forced to confession, even exorcism…disowned, Mani had forgiven his family, loved his old 'manos from the hood, but their intolerance and open hostility still saddened him.

Maybe it had changed now. Perhaps Gotham City was now the American spirit, open arms ready to embrace the hungry, tired, poor, sick and the different. But he doubted it.

"-you say I call her names I say it part of our games-"

"Alright, here's the real deal. Honesty zone." Mani said, bringing his hands together. Connolly and Shaniqua stopped, their antics ceased, immediate attention and silence showing their love and respect for the Gateway's keeper.

Honesty zone. Everyone knew that's what Delgado said. Other adults would refer to it as "rules." But Delgado didn't like rules. Inhibitions. Putting people in boxes…that's why the guys and gals restrooms were both painted equally, a shocking midnight violet blue with spatters of yellow, pink, purple and red.

"You know what a bad term for a Mexican is?"

The two kids exchanged glances, worried to say something.

"I know you know." Mani said. "So c'mon. Say it."

Connolly just looked confused. Shaniqua lowered her eyes, mouthed 'spic' into her coffee.

"Yeah. Spic. But the thing is, a bunch of us kids-well, when this old fart was young enough to be a kid-got together and decided, hell, why not be Spics? If people are gonna call us Spics, let's own up to it! So we started calling each other that, and when kids on the playground would yell it at us instead of getting mad we'd just shout thank you (or muchas gracias!)-" here he smiled, "on the top of our lungs. After awhile, no one called us Spics anymore but ourselves. It stopped the problem."

"Like we call each other niggah's." Shaniqua offered timidly.

Mani clapped his thick hands. "Exactly! But there was another problem."

"What?" The kids chorused.

"Not everyone wanted to be a Spic." Santy cut in.

"Yep. He's got it. The white kids and the black kids stopped calling us Spics-heck, some even asked if they could be Spics!-and we got along pretty well. But a whole bunch of other…well, there's so many here in Gotham I won't just generalize them as "Mexicans", but you get my point, people of hispanic, latino, chicano Spanish-speaking decent got upset. Turns out we thought the whole thing was funny…but not everybody we considered Spic wanted to be known as a Spic."

The kids' heads were cocked. They were starting to understand-

"Just like not everybody you'd joke around with, Shaniqua," Mani said kindly, "would take kindly to being called…what you just said. In fact, there's a lot of people out there who would shoot you or stab you if you called them that, am I right?"

The girl nodded. "Well, yeah."

Mani chuckled. "When I first got this place, I wanted to be cool, hip, you know? So I labeled the bathrooms bros and hos, thinking it was funny. But not everyone wanted to be known as a ho. Lot of kids-especially the boys-thought it was really funny…lot of girls cried. Turns out if your mom's boyfriend or her pimp beats her or you, if your sister sleeps around just to keep up on her crack addiction…well, it's not that cool to be known as a ho."

The kids were silent.

"So we don't care what you guys call each other outside of here-" Santy began, but Mani cut him off.

"Actually, I do." The Mexican said. "I care and I care a lot. But caring and being able to control are two very different things. Point being, outside, you make the decision yourself. You come to the Gateway…you leave all your bitches and hos and niggers and fags and spics and whatever else outside, okay?" Mani said kindly, yet firmly. "You're good kids. I know you two. I love ya, and I know you'd only ever use those terms jokingly and in fun…but here, you've got to check 'em at the door."

Connolly cleared his throat awkwardly. Shaniqua scratched her lime-colored head and looked away.

"Comprenden?" Mani asked.

"Comprenden." The kids nodded seriously.

"It's comprendemos, have I taught you nothing?" Mani cried, gripping his hair with false conviction. "Now you've done it! We have no choice. Me and Kevin here are gonna whip your asses at phoosball!"

The kids laughed delightedly. "You can try!" Shaniqua shouted, throwing her coffee cup down and racing to the table. Minus apron and mitts, Jimmy joined her, and soon the whole Rec room was crowded around the vicious match, cheers and boos ringing out, chants growing louder and louder from the gathered throng as the four fought for best out of three.

…Mani, Shaniqua decided later that night, girlfriend's hand in hers, bare bellies filled with sugary sweets, had been right about a lot.

But not everything. She and Jimmy had completely pwned his ass in phooseball.