Theoretically a hit man, Vincente never actually became a "made" man. All of his intended targets either died of natural causes, were arrested, or got themselves shot in pointless domestic squabbles before he got to them. It was a joke at first, then a truism in the San Francisco Cosa Nostra: if you really need someone dead, give Vinny a gun with no bullets.
The joke may have been amusing, but the trail of Vinny's intended targets wasn't, and one day a member of a rival family, more superstitious than most, decided to make Vincente look like squooshy red Swiss cheese. He awoke on the other side of the Shroud, Reaped by certain wraiths whom the Giovanni behind the family had coerced into performing this "favor." Members of a well-organized Renegade faction, these spirits took Vincente in and trained him in the ways of the afterlife. When they felt he was well enough trained to survive the Shadowlands on his own, the Renegades decreed their "obligation" to the Giovanni discharged and turned Vinny loose. He now wanders the bay area, protecting those whom he knew in life and ducking the Hierarchy-Renegade conflict.
Vincente is small, dark, and handsome. He is fine-boned, with hands that never stay still and eyes that are constantly flickering around the room. Well-muscled and lithe, he dresses like he just stepped out of auditions for Reservoir Dogs II. He always wears black leather gloves, claiming that he feels naked without them. There is a conspicuous bulge under the right shoulder of his jacket; only he knows he's been unable to obtain ammunition for the custom Artifact pistol has has cached there. He hasn't quite figured out yet that it doesn't actually need ammo to fire.
Because of his bizarre history, Vincente is a prime conversion target for Heretics of all stripes. He never curses, drinks, or starts a fight, but he is adept at finishing them off. He speaks softly, and spends his time doing while others are talking about doing.