The police found her standing, blood-spattered, between the bodies of her dead parents, her eyes wet with tears and her mouth slightly curled into a smile.  Merely five and suffering from a lack of kin, she landed in the local orphanage, aptly nicknamed “The House of Pain.”  After ten years of street education and a hard-knock life inside the walls of that place, she stepped out the front doors, a single lit match in hand.  With a flick of her wrist, she burned that hellhole down and took its name, Hausa Pain.

Livin’ on the street wasn’t easy.  She found herself in and out of juvy until a judge ordered her to find a relaxing hobby to curb her anger.  She picked up what she thought would be furthest from aggression, roller skating.

Things were smooth for a while, skatin’ at the rink to dance music and a disco ball, but her life was forever changed the moment she caught a glimpse of the hard-ass ladies of the Windy City Rollers.  As if fate back-handed her, she knew where she belonged, skatin’ to the tune of broken bones and bloodied noses along side the most FURYous ladies in the league.

She still tries to contain her innate anger, but if you ever see her Irish eyes flame green, you better get the hell out of the way, because Hausa’s comin’ and you’ll soon find out if you can live with the Pain.