Maryse: I'm telling you, Daffney. This is the way we're going to have to go.

*Minneapolis, Minnesota is the home of Brock Lesnar. During his time as UFC champion he had converted a large warehouse into his own training facility. Maryse and Daffney stood in front of it on a sunny afternoon. Maryse was dressed in a green, plaid, short sleeved shirt that was tied around her waist. Her lower half was covered in jean shorts. Not the John Cena "jorts" style. But the skimpy, sexy kind. Daffney was wearing a long sleeved white dress shirt with a dark purple tie. The rest of her attire consisted of a black skirt and black and purple striped stockings. Black made up was splashed underneath of her eyes. She held a cat stuffed animal in her arms and half of it's body was designed to look like a skeleton.*

Daffney: Explain it again.

Maryse: MMA is the new, hot, fresh thing. We need to break into this. We'll be huge.

Daffney: ..So..it's like wrestling..but..with more crawling around..and you don't get to hit people with chairs?

Maryse: You've got it.

Daffney: ..Sounds lame.

Maryse: It doesn't matter! It's huge! And wrestlers who go into MMA get a lot of exposure! Worked for Brock Lesnar! All we have to do is win a couple of matches and The Ikeda's will fall all over themselves to sign us back! To MULTI-MILLION dollar contracts!

*Maryse folded her hands underneath her chin and licked her lips*

Maryse: Not to mention all the ridiculously jacked guys thrustin' their packages around.

Daffney: ..Any pierced and tattooed guys with mommy issues?

Maryse: Some of them have tattoo's but their the generic tribal kind.

Daffney: ..I hate this idea already.

Maryse: Do you REALLY want to keep wrestling whorenoceros' like Maria? Chicks like A.J. and Kaitlyn are gonna get all the attention because their cutesy and wrestling fans are all massive, uncircumcised geeks.

*Maryse didn't gave Daffney a chance to respond as she began pushing her inside. Inside their were banners that read "DEATH CLUTCH" which was Brock Lesnar's clothing line. Other manly things were drawn on the other walls like "SLAYER" and dudes with axes and mean looking dogs. Their was an octagon style ring and training mats all over the place.*

Daffney: It smells like testosterone in here. I would rather wrestle Maria and The Ghost Busters or whatever the hell they call themselves.

Maryse: Uh, I had to wrestle Maria last week. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. I've seen three legged dogs with more grace and poise than her.

*The pair are interrupted as a sweaty, mohawked guy in a wife beater approaches them*

Coach: Wait a minute. I've seen you two on TV. You're wrestlers.

*With dollars signs in his eyes the coach turns and shouts to the rest of the facility.*

Coach: HEY GUYS! More pro wrestlers that want to be fighters! And these two are CHICKS! We're gonna be LOADED!

Maryse: Hey, where is Brock? I want him to ride me around the octagon..

Coach: Brock? Don't you know? He's back in the WWE. Vince is paying him out the ass to show up on TV once a month.

*Maryse nudged Daffney in the side*

Maryse: What did I tell you? This is our rocket ship straight to a mansion.

Coach: If you two are interested we'll begin training right away. We'll school you on all the different styles. And then-

Maryse: The hell with that! We don't have months! Just put us in the hexagon thing and let us beat some bodies ass already!

Coach: I mean..have you two had any training?

Maryse: We're wrestlers, taint-face! A ring and a pentagon are the exact same thing! We already know how to throw down!

*The coach smirked. He was going to teach these rookies a lesson.*

Coach: If you say so. Go put on some gloves and I'll find you opponents.

*After some time had passed there was a MMA chick in the ring awaiting to face Daffney or Maryse. She was completely decked out in the proper attire and looked totally fit. She bounced around and threw some punches through the air.*

Coach: Maryse! What the hell are you doing?!

*The French Canadian shouted from inside of a nearby locker room*

Maryse: Waiting for my entrance music! I'm not some jobber, asshole!

Coach: You DON'T GET entrance music until you're on a show! Now get out here!

*Maryse reluctantly stepped out of the locker room and into the octagon. She hadn't bothered to put on her MMA style fighting gloves.*

Coach: Where are your gloves?!

Maryse: Um, just had my nails done, ball licker. I'm not putting those things on.

Coach: Alright, that's it. Susan! Tear into her!

*The apparent name of the fighter who stood across from Maryse began to circle her with her fists held upwards. The blond pulled out a can of mase from behind her back and promptly sprayed the fighter in the face with zero hesitation. She screamed and rolled around on the mat while holding her eyes*

Coach: YOU CAN'T DO THAT!

Maryse: She tried to rape me.

*Maryse sat down on a bench beside Daffney who was lightly nibbling away at a fork. In her palm she held a plate with some kind ridiculously sweet foreign desert.*

Maryse: MMA sucks. I would rather wrestle Maria's lame ass and those two ding bat nerd-core wet dreams.

Coach: Get the goth-chick in here!

*Daffney sighed and entered the octagon while still holding her plate of yumminess and with her stuffed cat placed underneath one of her arms.*

Coach: You can't bring those things into the octagon!

Daffney: I have a medical condition from the medication I take that makes me crave sweets. I'll bring you a doctors note you tossbag.

*Daffney placed the plate and fork into the corner of the octagon and returned to face he would-be opponent. She looked similar to the one Maryse had assaulted. All business and wearing the correct gear.*

Coach: Put her in a kimura! Get her in a guillotine!

*The fighter approached Daffney to do as she was instructed but quickly halted. Daffney reached into her stuffed cat and pulled out a razor blade. The fighter was alarmed by this and began to run around the octagon with Daffney in pursuit, laughing her head off.*

Daffney: Stop trying to rape me! Stop trying to rape me!

*The scene cut to the outside of the warehouse where Daffney and Maryse had been escorted out. The door slammed and the locks were secured. Maryse shouted back in defiance*

Maryse: MMA IS FOR DOUCHERS ANYWAY!

Daffney: ..I'm so depressed. We really are going to have to wrestle that trio of morons. ..I'm turning emo. I'm going to start cutting. Oh god, I'm going to start writing poetry..my blood sugar is all messed up..

Maryse: Whoa. Your blood sugar is screwed because you probably got diabetes or some shit from eating sugar all the damn time so maybe take some responsibility before you have to write a poem about losing a foot!

Daffney: THE ONLY WAY I'M LOSING A FOOT IS UP YOUR ASS! NOW WHY DON'T YOU GO DO THAT WHOLE RESPONSIBILITY THING AND MIND YOUR OWN GOD DAMN BUSINESS! GO DRY HUMP SOMETHING!

Maryse: Oh. I see. Someone forgot her meds this afternoon.

*Maryse dug in her pocket and pulled out a white pill which she popped into Daffney's mouth. It instantly seemed to calm her.*

Maryse: All better.

Michael Cole: I'm Michael Cole and I'm here with Maryse and Daffney who are set to-

Maryse: Hey! Wait a second!

*The interviewer had literally seemed to appear out of nowhere with a camera man in tow and a microphone in hand*

Maryse: Don't just show up and start yapping like we're going to give you an interview! AND STOP STALKING US!

Michael Cole: You two have scheduled interview times and you never show up to them!

Maryse: BECAUSE WE'RE TRYING TO GET OUT OF THIS COMPANY YOU ENORMOUS NUTSACK!

*Cole held up his hands and backed away*

Michael Cole: You two ARE under contract so..

*Maryse and the now collected Daffney shot glares at the interviewer.*

Maryse: Then do your stupid little interview.

Michael Cole: You two are set to team up with Layla to take on Maria, Kaitlyn and a woman you will be facing at Summer Slam in A.J. Lee. A win here could give you the advantage over the Women's Champion and get you another step closer to the title.

Maryse: Let me start off by saying that Layla's stupid British ass had better hold up her end of the bargain. Because if she makes me look dumb on pay per view I'm going to stomp the living holy hell out of here!

Daffney: Yes. Layla and her little Asian friends should do whatever it takes to get us a win. Because if she doesn't she is going to be in a world of hurt. And I don't mean the kinky kind she had with AJ Styles. Or Brian Kendrick. Or whoever else she drunkingly let lay on top of her.

Maryse: And you know what else? She needs to work on her lip-synching. 'Cause, bitch, you're mouth doesn't EVER match up to the words!

*Maryse and Daffney gave each other a celebratory high five for their zingers.*

Michael Cole: Uh..you realize she IS your partner, right?

Maryse: We. Know. You. Little. Bitch. Doesn't mean we have to like her.

Daffney: ..She stole my title from me. I hope her insides rot and come out through her nose in a big festering, maggot filled pile.

Michael Cole: L-Lovely. Well, you have to contend with Maria whom you defeated last week, Maryse..

Maryse: And it was EASY. No challenge. That ho is in the wrong sport. And all the dirt sheet's say that she's "88% out the door". So why doesn't she 88% her ass right out of the arena and go do porn or something because that's the only job she's ever going to get outside of wrestling! So I'm not contending with anything. And would someone go tell that ho that I SPEAK PERFECT ENGLISH. Way better than her even. She shouldn't hate on me for being bilingual. The French language was hot. Maybe if she spoke it to CM Punk he wouldn't have dumped her ass.

Daffney: Oh. And I can speak. She's new here and rather dumb so I wouldn't expect her to know any details about her opponents. The only screaming I do is when I have to watch one of her matches.

*The visually contrasting pair high fived another once again.*

Maryse: We are on a ROLL today!

Michael Cole: You make take the threat of The Chickbusters a little more seriously..

*Maryse sighed at actually having to agree with anything Michael Cole had just said.*

Maryse: I guess you're right. Even though A.J. is still in a training bra she did beat me when I tried to take her title. But that was the first time. It's time for a woman who knows her way around more than a joystick to wear that gold. This is just part one of my revenge. The second part comes when I snatch that title from that undersized eight year old's little death grip. Maybe Trent Barreta will see all of this and realize he wants to shack up with a REAL woman. I could show him some things that a little girl like A.J. couldn't possibly know..

Michael Cole: Are you talking about sex?

*Maryse looked at Daffney and rolled her eyes.*

Maryse: No. I'm talking about World Of Warcraft. Of course I'm TALKING ABOUT SEX YOU IDIOT!

Daffney: And if Kaitlyn is supposed to be the brains of their duo then that's really all that needs to be said about that. She looks like she could lift a mack truck over her head and I guess someone on the planet must be into that. But as it stands right now she's just a possum and we're the speeding mack truck that's going to turn her into road kill. And speaking of road kiil, her hair sure looks like it. I know everyone just loves The Chick Busters but wrestling fans like a lot of stupid things and we're going to rip their heroes apart like paper dolls.

Maryse: Now go crawl back into whatever pocket universe you announcers live in until you need to talk to a wrestler! OUT! BEGONE!

*The two diva's, very loosely used in their cases, didn't give Cole a chance to question them any further as they walked off.*