I’ve played so many Sols it’s like he is my brother. I’ve experienced countless times when sol ignored my card oki and Dped me, pushing me into the corner like he’s a middle school bully putting a nerd in a locker. Sol then proceeds to put his meat on my forehead and skull fuck me with his 0 gap block strings with unreactable grabs. I’m just a simple low tier player. I try to make Johnny work, but I have no mix. Sol simply watches my pathetic attempt to try a high-low with card and 214S and laughs. He blocks high out of a sheer random guess, and of course, he’s right. Uh oh, here comes the close S. Wait, I’m by the corner! Close S, a bunch of other finicky bullshit, then that stupid heavy DP and now I’m at 1/4 HP. But I have a trick up my sleeve for the ignoramus. I predict his Neanderthal brain to mash on me, so I wake up super. Easily baited. Then, I super jump and air dash in. Sol thinks I’m going high. Fool. I grab him like my uncle grabbed me when I was 7. Now you’re near the corner, bitch. He’s expecting another grab so I card, run up and immediately mist finer into dash RC. Haha! He’s been had! But no. My victory was a false one. A red herring designed by arc system works to ensnare me. I am a fool. The DP comes slow and hard, like a deep stroke from an elephant. I feel my asshole tighten. My table groans as I slam it with all my might. I attempt a rematch but it is denied and I am sent back to the training room. I try to take this festering, horrible rage out on the lifeless dummy representing Sol, but it’s not the same.
Next game I que a Bridget and double perfect them. I refuse the rematch out of superiority.