As I walk into the long, smelly room, I spot the table. Table 108. 2nd round. I’m 1-0. I’m playing Night March. My last match was nerve-wracking. I was playing against the dreaded, evil, slimy Seismitoad-EX. But I somehow overcame it’s terrible Quaking Punch which may as well be called a Thanos Snap vs. Night March. But I prevailed. I setup too quickly. I led with the Halloween Pokémon itself. I got 9 in the discard pile turn 1. He dead drew both games. I was so relieved. I felt like I could do anything!
As I reminisce in my first round win, I see a man with a green shirt. He looks like one of those players that will just sit around and play video games all day. I’m walking to table 108, and sit down. Shortly after, the green shirted man sits down. At my table. Table 108. Up close, he looks terryfing. He must’ve ended his opponent T1 both games using an absolutely broken strategy. He huffs, and I can smell his nasty breath from across the table. I try not to think about it, and take out my deck and start setting up to play like any other game. I’m going second. That’s fine, if I can get setup T1. We set up. My hand is OK, I’m leading with Halloween again. A Battle Compressor here, a Juniper there, it’s not bad. I got this. I’m confident. “You May begin” the judge calls. We flip up our starting Pokémon. Instantly, my body trembles in fear. I can barely keep myself sane. I can even hardly make out the word “Seedot” across the top of his starting Pokémon. “Good Game” the green shirted man says.
