Jasmine "The Roaring Lion of Pain" Hunter

Every once in a long while, a man finds a perfect woman, and a woman finds a perfect man, and together they take the world by almighty and irresistible storm—starting with the Pink Panther Diamond.

That would be Reynold and Lauren Hunter, grand jewel thief-team extraordinaire, world-renowned stage magicians, and co-inventors of the Lou-Sanitron 9000—the only fully functional automaton in the toilet-cleaning market.

And thatâ€s just what they achieved before Jasmine was born. But then again, she was the big one: she was the glory to crown every other glory before and after, their One and Only, their dudette in exultis.

She never set foot in school. A life with her parents was enough education for any aspiring genius. It would nauseate you to know the languages she learned to speak, to hear counted out the deep and ancient works she penetrated under Reynoldâ€s fatherly tutelage.

Fortunately for the world of female wrestling, she also was no genius. “Iâ€d give her a C+ in life studies,” Lauren wrote in the then-eleven year oldâ€s report card, “Itâ€s damned close, but sheâ€s really just too much of a half-wit ignoramus in matters quadratical and lyrimatical for the B-. ”

Alas.

But it was all for the best, really. Once her parents gave up on the idea of world-changers gen 2, Jasmine was allowed to pursue whatever she wanted.

And what she liked was dungeons and dragons, Star Trek, modal jazz, and every offbeat interest in between. She threw herself into world-building, and not in the literary sense. With her parents as bottomless sink-holes of money and connections, she set about becoming a cosplayer in her own custom-made world composed of everything she liked and imagined that she liked. She tried her hand at writing and film-making and dance and acting and summarily failed at all of it—but boy did she enjoy the ride.

Then, she fell in love with a Japanese MMA fighter she saw break a manâ€s arm on TV—her latest nerdy craving. Oh, how she pined for Minamoto, the greatest fighter this side of the Santa Clause Wrestler!

It was a dark day for Lauren and Reynold Hunter.

“Wrestling, honey-kins?”
“Like professional wrestling?”
“Darling husband, do you know how you could increase the worldâ€s IQ by twenty points in three seconds?”
“How, sweetie?”
“By dropping an atom bomb on the next WWF romp.”
“Itâ€s not called the WWF anymore, Mom, and Iâ€m not talking about that stuff. This is real!...”

It put a strain on poor Mom and Dad, but they capitulated in the end. They would arrange for her to meet this mysterious Minamoto the Fighter.

Except, Minamoto wouldnâ€t waste the time on them—no matter what sum they offered. This mysterious UFC type, it seemed, had no time for anything or anyone who couldnâ€t compete with him in battle.

She was heartbroken. But determined to prove herself!

And thus did Jasmine acquire her life-long ambition, which still burns in her chest with a fiery fury—to become a fighter, to rise in the ranks, to knock down Minamoto in his own game, and to earn the right of his company.

…At least, thatâ€s what she tells people two years later, especially her fans.

Most people think she oversells it. But damned if she isnâ€t cute while she soliloquizes melodrama—the one talent she turned out to have in abundances.