The second day was a brutal echo of the first. Elena remained a fixed point in the center of the ground. Shockingly, the win condition hadn't changed. To win a round, I had to get close enough to land a solid slap across her cheek.
I didn't know if she had developed some kind of strange fetish after our morning encounter or if she just enjoyed the sting, but whatever the reason, it worked in my favor. Slapping her was mechanically easier than trying to land a punch or a kick through her defensive barriers.
As the sun climbed toward the center of the sky, signaling the approach of noon, I found my rhythm. I was understanding her attack patterns better, and was taking complete advantage of it. But even as I dodged and countered, one question kept nagging at me: What was Jane doing here?
