BeyNika- A Collection Of One Shots

Amnesia

Onika sat on the edge of her bed carefully lacing up the heavy boots she wore, a shaky breath escaped her chest as she tried to avoid thoughts of her. It was just about time for their usual training.

She supposed nothing would be different today, though despite what had occurred between them and how badly she wanted it to be, it wouldn't be: it never was. Beyoncé always got a hold on her urges and rash thinking never straying too far from her militant judgement.

Onika stood from the bed moving to her mirror looking over herself. She wore long, fitted, black pants, thick enough to resist sharp abrasions. Her top was black as well, long sleeved, but not so forgiving with sharp objects, you simply had to move faster than what you were against to avoid that. And of course her heavy traditional combat boots; She had gotten a little stronger and could move faster in them now.

She looked into her own eyes taking one slow deep breath.

"Just like every other time Nick, just go, you're fine." She reassured herself under her breath.

With that in mind she quickly swiped off her light before leaving the confines of her room.

She made her way down to the training facility. 

Onika walked in, back straight, shoulders broad, chin up. The large space was empty per usual, and it took her eyes point five seconds to locate Beyoncé.

And just that fast her confidence went to hell in a hand basket.

She gulped feeling her stomach sink as she watched her back.

Her exposed, toned shoulders were already glistening with perspiration, her shirt cladding to her damp skin made it easy to see the definition of the muscles in her back as they flexed and ceded along with whatever she was handling in front of herself.

Onika caught glimpse of the weapons in the wall length mirror in front of Beyoncé. Her last training had been grappling, today it was blade work.

She nearly jumped at the sound of the heavy closing door behind her, it's automated locking system sounded throughout the room.

Suddenly Beyoncé's intense, hazel eyes snapped up catching hers in the mirror. Her hand ceasing it's motion in cleaning the katana blade she held.
She placed the weapon back in its casing before handling something else.

A few minutes later she turned around with two pairs of trench knives.

Beyoncé slowly walked up to Onika.

"You know what today's training is about. There are not only ever going to be the diseased out there, there are other survivors too, and we don't trust any of them if we have no established source of origin from them. When guns fail you might find yourself in a close combat situation."

She extended a pair of the trench knives towards Onika.

She tried not to expose her nervous state through shaking hands and accepted the blades swiftly.

Beyoncé took a few steps back before taking the knives in either hand in a fighting stance, her fingers gripping hard onto the handles.

This wasn't their first time training with trench knives, Onika knew the instruction would be minuscule to non existent today, so she too gripped the weapons before mirroring Beyoncé's stance.

They circled each other slowly, Beyoncé swiped fast at her stomach, Onika barely jumping back in enough time. She regained her balance feeling the adrenaline rush her core.

She eyed her larger opponent, this time seeing her strike high, ducking, and throwing a powerful punch with the brassed knuckles of the trench knives to her abdomen.