Vedette Facchinello, someone who had spent the majority of her life dwelling in the Italian community within Manhattan, had bounced from being a stereotypical housewife-styled woman to an investment machine, a spiraling criminal tycoon who occupied her time with assisting her superiors and managing the legal fronts she had happily held sturdy for Wall Street. Strawberry blonde femme fatale, the women from The Hush^Ⓒ called her, because Ms. Facchinello made it her primary goal to do the opposite of what the majority of mafia-affiliated gals tended to do—she wanted to fit in. Now, this did not refer to an inner conflict or a struggle with her personality or something like that, no, but it was about appearance and her tendencies. She wanted to look like those stereotypical housewife-styled women, something she was trained to be by her mother. She wanted to blend in with a crowd. She wanted to go as unrecognized as possible or, if need be, only recognized by a fixed minority of people within Wall Street. This provided her with a devious trait as, if someone were to toy with her in the wrong manner and be completely oblivious to the ladder she had been successfully working her way up, they were in for a rude awakening. Hidden power, being strong and silent...this was what she lived for.

Her first test was The Hush^Ⓒ. She had prepared its blueprints, hired managers to hire employees, invested tons of cash into it and successfully opened it in Manhattan a short while later. She had even decided that the logo, anonymity is a friend of ours, would tie onto her desires—anonymity—and her line of work—being a friend of ours. With the required approval granted, the construction of such an establishment, one that seemed foreign for a woman to control because of the female-exploiting performances it offered, was able to be brought to life, and Vedette ensured that the small population which did know that she ran it would believe she was but a measly secretary for a higher man, the communication line for a bigger fish—they thought she was no one important, and that was just the way she liked it.

Her second test revolved around one of her superiors, Kal_El. He had began personally speaking with her to lead associates, to train them to do this to earn that and pay this to these guys. This test was much more significant because these men and women would see her face, would recognize her and know who she was, during what was the most vital part of their careers—the criminal upbringing. She detested this greatly, so she took it upon herself to be distant, to seem like she herself was a grunt in situations where, though her title said otherwise, she wouldn't be anyone memorable. She was cautious with her words and her actions, especially careful to not leave a permanent mark on any woman or man she may come across. Though more notorious at this point, she still would interact with civilians more than Mafiosi in the smallest of efforts to seem like nothing abstract or dangerous.

Her third test turned into a very basic human need—communication. Socializing was a big part of who she was as a woman and what families were as organizations. What would you be without requests and demands? She, though, would be wary and indecisive with what she would say. She would often hesitate, cower away from larger, more sophisticated words in the hopes of making an opponent think she was less than what she was, and verbally restrict herself unless in the presence of someone who she was comfortable with, such as FutureStealer or Kal_El. She was delicate with her lips and careful to make the commands she gave working men and women sound more like requests so she wouldn't be placed above them in the metaphorical nor real hierarchy...so she wouldn't be thought of as something better or more noticeable.

However, at the end of the day, regardless of how hard she had attempted to seem like just another patron running around the streets of Manhattan, her strawberry blonde hair would always give her away.