Posted on April 20, 2025

Nurse by Day, Budget Batwoman by Night

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Gotham City, NY — Mariane, 26, is what happens when Florence Nightingale swipes right on vigilante justice and decides to save lives and ruin lives on the same day — just in different outfits.

By daylight, she’s a scrubs-clad sweetheart, administering IVs and emotional damage control with equal tenderness. A night shift nurse with a 4.8-star patient satisfaction rating and three HR complaints from coworkers who “couldn’t handle the sarcasm,” she’s beloved in the ER for her efficiency, her empathy, and her ability to recite Grey’s Anatomy quotes during trauma cases.

But when the sun dips behind the skyline and her shift ends, this emotionally unstable Florence rips off her Crocs and slides into something less comfortable — a homemade Batwoman costume stitched together with thrift store finds, duct tape, and what we're pretty sure is a repurposed sports bra.

Her gear includes black leggings from TJ Maxx, a cape made out of an old graduation gown, and a utility belt that used to be a fanny pack from a 2016 foam party. Armed with nothing but pepper spray, a taser shaped like a cat, and a half-charged vape pen she mistook for a smoke bomb, Mariane patrols Gotham’s alleys like she’s starring in a Craigslist reboot of The Dark Knight.

Her weapon of choice? Sarcasm, tears, and a mean right hook that’s taken down at least three perverts and one inflatable Christmas decoration she mistook for a villain. “That snowman had it coming,” she later explained. “Its eyes followed me.”

Locals have dubbed her “The Bargain Bat” — a name she hates but begrudgingly accepts because, in her words, “branding is hard when your budget’s tighter than my Spanx.”

Her first unofficial patrol started six months ago after a patient in the ER came in mugged and shaken. “He was just trying to get home with his groceries and someone clocked him for a rotisserie chicken,” she said. “That was the last straw. Gotham needed help. And I needed to hit something.”

“I don’t have billionaire tech or a cool motorcycle,” Mariane explained while applying concealer to a black eye and eating a Pop-Tart in the ER breakroom. “But I’ve got rage, student debt, and just enough emotional instability to make it interesting.”

She works three 12-hour shifts a week, sleeps erratically, and spends her free time watching true crime documentaries while sewing reinforcements into her kneepads. Her only known ally is a barista named Dev who provides free espresso shots “in exchange for justice updates.”

Witnesses report she cries during every arrest — usually out of empathy, sometimes out of frustration, and once because she got her cape stuck in a closing subway door and a stranger laughed.

“I don’t know if I’m fighting crime or just processing my feelings,” she admitted. “Honestly, some nights it’s a toss-up.”

Still, she’s gained a cult following online, with hashtags like #CryingCrusader, #BatBroke, #BatShitCrazy, and #JusticeInJoggers trending regularly. A blurry photo of her stopping a purse snatcher outside a Dunkin’ has over 12,000 likes, with comments ranging from “SHE’S A LEGEND” to “I hope she moisturizes.”

One fan wrote, “She may be unstable, but she’s our unstable,” while another added, “I trust her more than the NYPD, and I’ve never even met her.”

Despite the attention, Mariane keeps a low profile. She doesn’t reveal her last name and refuses to answer questions about her “Batcave,” which sources suspect is just a closet with a lava lamp and a pile of unpaid parking tickets.

Her alter ego has raised eyebrows among law enforcement. NYPD officials declined to comment directly, but one officer speaking off the record said, “We’re not supposed to encourage vigilantes, but she’s out there doing cardio and de-escalating fights, so… we’re not mad either.”

Not everyone’s a fan. A neighborhood association once tried to file a noise complaint after she allegedly screamed “YOU SHALL NOT PASS!” at a jaywalker. “It was late,” the resident said. “People were trying to sleep. Also, wrong franchise.”

But her supporters argue that Mariane’s unique brand of justice is filling a gap left by overstretched authorities and underfunded services. “She’s not just stopping crimes,” said local therapist Jenna Valdez. “She’s making people feel seen, even if they’re being tackled in a Rite Aid parking lot.”

Mariane says she’s not planning on stopping anytime soon. “Hell no. Therapy’s expensive. This is my therapy. And honestly, punching muggers is cheaper than Xanax.”

She dreams of someday upgrading her costume with actual armor, maybe a grappling hook, and ideally, a therapist who takes her insurance. Until then, she says, duct tape and adrenaline will do.

Her biggest challenge so far? “Running in wedge boots. They looked good at the store, but they’re not built for rooftop chases. Also, taser batteries die faster than you'd think.”

When asked if she’s ever afraid, she nods. “Every night. But fear keeps you sharp. That, and a triple espresso shot from Dev.”

She doesn’t see herself as a hero. She sees herself as “a cautionary tale with abs,” though she quickly clarifies, “soft abs. Nurse abs. Mostly emotional.”

Justice may be blind, but apparently it sobs in the corner after a long shift and wears orthopedic inserts. And in Gotham, that’s just what the night shift ordered.