The wind howls through the empty parking lot as the dim streetlights flicker above interrupted by the faint screech of an unreturned cart, left abandoned in the cold silence, rolling aimlessly across the asphalt. A masked man steps out of the shadows…

“You think it’s nothing. A small act of carelessness, a moment of laziness. But that cart, left adrift, has a price. A price in scraped cars, twisted ankles, in the chaos that spreads like rot in the hearts of men. You see, I don’t care about your excuses. I don’t care if it’s raining, if you’re in a hurry. Order is what keeps us human. And you… you spit on it with every cart left behind.”

Knuckles crack in the darkness

“I’m the reckoning you never see coming. You think no one’s watching when you shove it into the next spot, but I’m always watching. Every cart out of place, every rule ignored, it leads to something darker, something worse. And that’s where I come in—to stop the small sins before they become something more.”

The masked man takes a step forward, his voice low and gravelly.

“I am Cart Noir, the last line of defense between order and chaos. You think it’s just a cart? It’s never just a cart.”